Homeward

"I have learned that if you need to leave a place that you have lived in, 

and loved and all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it in any way 

except a slow way. Leave it the fastest way you can."

- Beryl Markham

     This is my most favorite time of the school year. While I have always been giddy at the thought of beginning a school year and while it has always been a confirmation that I am in the exact profession I was intended to be in, the end of the year, especially in High School, is the most beautiful. I teach Seniors and while I work with all levels in our school, the Seniors are so special to me. I finally have them in class, I get to spend time with them doing community service, and I get to watch them mature over the years through retreat. But there is one retreat that is most dear to me and that is our Junior Training Retreat.

      Tonight would have been the second night of our JTR. But alas, we are not there. As a result of missing one of my most favorite places, I spent some time reflecting on the goodnesses I have received this year as a result of JTR 2019. One year ago, the current senior retreat team was experiencing the love of retreat for the first time. What makes it so incredibly beautiful is that they each consciously put so much effort into wanting to be there. Because of this, they are more open, more willing, more vulnerable. I don't find myself waiting for "that moment" when it all clicks because for these students, they get it the moment they walk off the bus. And of course, I get to share a place where I was once a retreatant and then a leader and now the Campus Minister. It is a place that is so special.
      These girls become the Campus Ministry team and thus, I get to work closely with them over their senior year. We pray often together, we explore new music together, and we share the state of our hearts many times over. They are the ones that fill the office with joy, laughter and tears. They are the ones that love deep and strong. When I see them in the hallway, I know they are spreading love with every step they take. When I see them with their peers, I know they are a level above in spirit and grace (oftentimes, above adults, as well). They are special and so incredibly unique. They share magic wherever they go. It would be during this time that I would be getting ready to plan a few senior events with them - Baccalaureate Mass, Graduation Practices, Senior Recognition, Senior Luncheon, and so one. I would be praying with them before their AP tests. I would be taking my classes for walks on nice days and having instruction outside. And we would be preparing for and executing the final retreat of the year, where we would initiate the Juniors into their roles as Senior Retreat Leaders.
       I am missing them and being in school so much right now. It has been such a blessing to be home with my family, but as my husband said, "You are still losing time with others as you gain time with us." I have spent every waking hour with my family; that is the family that shares my last name. But students become like family. They become your children in a way. And sometimes they treat you the same.

    I recently looked up at the calendar on my fridge to check the date when I realized that I hadn't changed it.  It still had planned events from March. That's when we left school and thus, that's when time seemed to freeze. If I had known on March 12th, that I was never going to have my office filled with those special girls, I would have hugged each one a little tighter. I would have reminded them that they are so incredibly worthy, beautiful and loved. I would have smiled a little longer. I would have given them one last little word of wisdom. But I didn't know and neither did they. It seems so unfair in so many ways. I cannot describe the feeling other than I feel a certain kind of emptiness without my students around. I know many other teachers feel this way. Our everyday life, our life breath, was suddenly ripped from our grasp before we had any idea of what was happening. We left the places where we have lived, loved and buried our yesteryears, in a flash. And for some, ripping off the bandaid was just that; a small amount of pain and adjustment to new life. But for many, it has left a sting and an a wound and a pain. It hurts. For us and for them.
     Despite this, however, these students remind me of home - that is school. Home is not a place but the people that make it feel like home. Through their emails, there little Remind texts and their cards. They remind me that home can be felt even when we are not together. And they remind me that I am doing that for them. Home is this beautiful place we are trying so hard to maintain in this place. But we are doing it together.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLit-C4Gl8g

My Weekend With the Methodists - the Woman I Want to Be

"The most beautiful women we have known

are those who have known defeat, known struggle, known loss and have 

found their ways out of the depths. 

These people have an appreciation, a sensitivity and an understanding

of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness and a deep, loving concern. 

Beautiful women do not just happen."

- Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Photo Courtesy of Joy Morrison

      Many of you who follow my blog know that a huge part of my job is leading and organizing various different retreats. I've had many years of practice and I absolutely love doing this for a living. I mean really, I hit the jackpot with the best job, I think. Each retreat is beautiful in it's own way, despite being the same retreat formula and I receive so many different graces each and every time. While this particular weekend was a bit different, I still received so many graces. So this blog post is a HUGE shout out to my friends, the Methodists. 

     Over the Summer, I help teach at an annual Vacation Bible School at Wilkinson Memorial Methodist Church. The church building is closer than the Catholic church - so close, I can walk. I've been helping out at VBS for years and have made some beautiful friendships with the community there. I look forward to the amount of time I get to see these lovely people every year. This year at VBS, I had two special invitations extended to me - one, would I teach the 1st and 2nd grade class; two - would I be the main speaker at this year's upcoming Women's Retreat. Naturally, I said yes to both. 

    Of course, in August, it seemed like I had months, years, even to prepare for this retreat. The only pressing thing was to come up with a theme for retreat. So, overnight I was inspired - Beauty Amid the World's Brokenness. A week before retreat, I realized I barely had anything planned and so, you can imagine what the week at school was like for me - skitting around trying to pull things together. Finally, by Friday, I felt I was ready. I was nervous as all get out, but I felt ready. I knew once we got started, God was going to give me all the words I could possibly need, all the strength, all the courage; my God would take care of me and of the women present. 

    When we gathered for dinner the first night at the local diner, many people who I did not know kept asking around - who is doing the retreat? All fingers pointed to the "little girl on the corner" (of the table). I smiled. I'm so used to be the youngest in the group, even if only by a few months. Of course, the more I looked around, the more nervous I became. I suddenly felt inhibited by so many factors. But I knew I had to trust the Lord; I was here for a reason. 

    Very late Friday night, we gathered in our gathering room for a quick orientation. I was introduced then by the beautiful woman who initially asked me to speak at retreat. She told the story of how we met and right away told everyone that I was one of two Catholics in the room. I laughed - it's been a running joke since I started volunteering with the group for VBS. So long as we both love the same Jesus Christ, we can pray and sharing our Christianity together. They make me a stronger Catholic in all the good ways. I told the group about myself, what I do for a living, how old I was and through in a few extra jokes about myself. Before I knew it, we were headed back to our cabin for a game of Apples to Apples which had us laughing late into the night. 

      Saturday was the big day for me - three reflection sessions on various aspects of beauty and brokenness. While it was not my intention, many tears were shed at various points of the day and during the activities. Some were meant to be profound, some meant to be fun, others just for the heck of it. We were blessed to be able to share so much in many different ways. All in all, I felt the sessions and activities went really well, especially after I reminded all that as adults, we need to remember to play. It was beautiful. I loved every second. 

      Throughout the weekend, I was blessed to meet so many beautiful women, share so many laughs, be myself, and bask in the glory of the Lord whether it was by gazing at the stars, sitting on the special rock or embracing hugs at any given point. But the most important part of the weekend was not really what I did for the group of beautiful women, but rather what the did for me. They gave me a means to be the woman I want to be always.  

     So often, I find myself caught up in the stress of the days, weeks, months. I find myself being hard on me for not looking a certain way, not acting a certain way, not being able to accomplish my goals in due time. I find myself getting frustrated at circumstance, at myself, at situational events. I know deep inside my heart, is a gentle, joyful, courageous, peaceful, loving young woman. I know that woman exists within me. I find myself inhibited by society's expectation of a good woman - strong, equal to man, and more. Society frowns upon the gentle, subdued, quiet, loving women. I have yet to figure out why and often, I look down up that woman who exists within, too. I'm not a fighter deep down. I am not angry, bitter, narcissistic. I am gentle. 

      The woman I want to be always exists within me, I just do not always tap into that persona. I find myself struggling to be the tough woman when I don't have to be anything other than who I am inside. My last session of retreat focused on being the woman of Proverbs 31 and embodying the image of love from 1 Corinthians 13: 4-8. True beauty is the gentleness and emotion of being woman. As I lead that session, I felt myself being God's instrument. I was listening to myself...listening to the words coming from my mouth and feeling them hit my heart hard. I found myself remembering what it was like to laugh without fear of the future, what it is like to be patient and kind, to love sincerely. I found that woman within waking up from a very dormant sleep. 

      On Sunday, many of the women complimented retreat. I could only give glory to my God. But there were other things those women told me - you are so gentle, you are so full of love, you are beautiful, your heart speaks, joyful, inspirational. The most wonderful of all? Your beauty made me feel beautiful. It was not an ego boost, but rather a humbling experience reminding that the woman I want to be exists within me - I must simply let her roar. The beauty of the women I was with in turn made me feel beautiful and truly an instrument of God's love. I am gentle, compassionate, loving, patient, kind and a friend of God. I am the woman I want to be, I always have been and always will be. I cannot thank the women with whom I spent the weekend more. I love you all and I truly hope to see you soon. Keep on carrying the love of retreat with you wherever you go. 

Surviving Scurvy - A Story of Retreat

"We loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

- Sarah Williams, "The Old Astronomer"

    This time last week, I was admiring the falling snow from my bed, which I so strategically moved next to the window. I was attempting to sleep away a nasty version of the stomach flu in time for our second Senior retreat at school. I was also hoping to be fully recovered for Ash Wednesday, but the more I laid in bed and still felt horrible, the more I realized it was a possibility. In fact, my school principal encouraged me to stay home. As I sit here feeling a bit frigid, part of me wishes I was back in my nice, warm, comfy bed. But then I remember how I, with the help of a lot of my students, got over scurvy. I wouldn't trade those days for the world. 

     Scurvy. It's a disease more commonly associated with pirates and sailors, NOT high school teachers. It's a deficiency of Vitamin C and not commonly known about high school students. It also is very rare in today's day and age. However, when my student leaders (after panicking the entire day I was out sick from school) asked me about my illness and I told them it was the Norwalk Virus, also known as the Cruise Ship Virus, their imaginations immediately led to them thinking I had scurvy. Needless to say, in an all girls school, word that I had scurvy got out quickly. They say that laughter is the best medicine. To say that I was starting to feel much better because of all the laughing was an understatement. My neck, however, was still feeling kinda off. 

     It seemed that from all the sleeping I did the previous four days, my neck muscles got kinda stuck. There was a nice shot of pain each time I tried to move my neck even the tiniest bit. So, I iced it, took tons of advil and prayed I'd be able to get through the next three days of retreat. The amount of students who popped in throughout the day to see if any help was needed was astronomical. The amount of help I received from various teachers and administration was also astronomical. I was already counting so many blessings. By the time I was in the car with the student leaders, I felt like I was really going to be able to get through this. 

     Retreat was off to a great start. Everything was going as planned and we were even set to end a bit earlier than scheduled. The reflections, songs and small group sessions were seamless. I couldn't ask for a more perfectly easy time after just getting over my terrible illness. However, when I laid down in my bed after making sure everyone was in their rooms, the pain kicked in again. To say I got any sleep that night would be a lie. I tossed and turned until I watched the sun come up. At about 7:00, I found myself in the kitchen in tears because the pain was so bad. I found some ice and made myself some hot green tea as I waited for the next adult leader to come into the kitchen. My principal told me a few times the day before to see an urgent care doctor and I told her if it got any worse I would go, but I was trying my hardest to stay for the full duration of retreat. Well, the pain got worse and so, within the hour I was on my way with another adult leader to the closest urgent care. Yes, we left retreat for a few hours as I was diagnosed with cramped muscles and given a muscle relaxer. 

     When we returned to the retreat house, the students and adults were in the middle of a small group session. The two of us sat in Chapel as we waited; there was about fifteen minutes left. As I sat and waited (waited for the medicine to kick in and for the retreatants to return), I realized how vital those few hours were for me. Not only did I spend a few hours with someone I normally do not see in the hallways for more than five minutes at most, but I also had a strange humbling. I realized even more deeply something which I already knew. Whatever was happening at retreat was happening not because I was running the show and I had organized the entire thing with some help from my friends, but rather that it was entirely God's doing. Whether I was there or not, retreat was going to happen the way God intended. 

      The students were so supportive and gracious to my return. So many asked how I was feeling so many times throughout the next two days and always someone was there to help me out if I needed. Because of their gentleness and their intense support, my heart was being healed. I knew that this retreat was God's work, but I had previously felt like God used me to facilitate it. What I realized was that every moment is a miracle because God intends it to be a miracle. God wanted the retreat to happen and so he made it happen even without me. It was a humbling reminder that while I may be an instrument, who the devil might try to take me out whether by sickness of fatigue, God is bigger than that which seems to be a bump in the road. God has a plan; no matter what happens, He is going to make sure it happens. He knows how to steer around bumps in the road. 

     What I also realized even more deeply was that I am one person and one person only. Anything I do is a success only because so many people help me. I could never do half the things that Campus Ministry does without the help of students, teachers, faculty and administration. There's no way that it could be done without them and a bit of God's grace. Okay, a lot of God's grace. I believe that my "scurvy" was an instrument through which I was reminded of humility once again. Of course, it was just in time for the beginning of Lent. 

      With every seemingly negative piece of life, there is a positive outcome. I could have dwelt on the fact that I felt pretty crummy. But instead, I focused on how God was changing my life. He showed me that regardless, He's in charge. He showed me how capable my students are of letting God work in their lives. He showed me how good my friends are both in taking care of me and taking over when I was too drowsy to facilitate the retreat. He showed me how beautiful life is when we leave it up to Him. Of course, He also showed me how true it is that laughter is the best medicine. Because if I didn't laugh at my newest nickname (scurves) or my horrible attempt to be cool (RT for LOVE; RETWEET FOR RETREAT), I would have focused on the negative. I have so many students to thank, both the leaders and retreatants, for keeping me on my toes, keeping smiling and laughing and keeping me in the loop. I am so blesssed to be here and may my offering be stretched across the skies. 

Fluff Removal

"If the person you are talking to doesn't appear to be listening, 

be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear."

- A.A. Milne, "Winnie-the-Pooh

     A few weeks ago, I was asked to give a talk to middle school students at an EDGE program. I was asked to speak about vocations and my personal discernment journey. As I was preparing for this talk, I was struggling with how to relate this to the students. Of course, it wasn't until I arrived there that I thought of how I could do it. I usually relate communication with God to music as there is usually at least one student who plays an instrument. While I did that, I also related it to one of my favorite Winnie-the-Pooh quotes. 

     Winnie-the-Pooh has always been a favorite of mine to quote. Of course, Pooh has even more significance as I get older. He not only reminds me of one of my closest Sisters but he also seems more and more relatable. And whenever he pops up, I feel like I am getting a special sign from God. So, because he is so familiar to me, I felt it was perfect to share with the students the above quotation. 

     I told the students about the quotation and I said that sometimes God is speaking to us but we have fluff in our ears. I asked them to imagine having an earache and having the cotton ball the nurse gives us in our ear. Remember the feeling that you know someone is speaking but you can't really hear them that well? Well, that's how fluff is. But sometimes some people have more fluff than other people. Pooh has warned against this fluff stuff. And our God is so patient that He understands when we have fluff in our ears. He speaks and waits for us to remove the fluff. Although, sometimes we even need help removing the fluff.

     I want to go back to Winnie and one of my closest Sisters. I'm not sure why but she loves Winnie-the-Pooh. As I went through my college years, I began to feel more and more like a Piglet to her Winnie-the-Pooh. Piglet is always unsure of things and Pooh always has the answers. Pooh always had something of significance to say, even if it sometimes didn't make sense. He was confident in whatever he said, confident in whatever he did, confident in who he was. And of course, he was patient. He was so because he recognized that sometimes fluff happens. Sister was always that figure of Pooh to me. And I was always Piglet. My favorite Piglet/Pooh conversation? "Piglet sidled up to Pooh. 'Pooh?' he whispered? 'Yes, Piglet?' 'Nothing, I just wanted to be sure of you.'" Sometimes we don't need words, we just need to be sure of one another. And I always felt like I needed to be sure that Sis would always be there for me. 

     So, when I started telling the students about having fluff in their ears and not being able to hear God's words clearly, I began to also hear Sis say, "remove the fluff from your own ear." I'm not sure if that's something she would say, but I could imagine her relating my current spiritual distress to Pooh in some way, shape, or form. And because that quotation was so fresh in my mind, I figured she might equate it to the fluff in my own ears. I told the students that God is always speaking to us, we just simply need to listen. And even if we listen really, really, really hard, if we have fluff in our ears, His voice won't be clear.

     A few weeks before I gave this EDGE talk, I had signed up for a silent, private retreat. I had been searching for silence. As an introvert, I need silence and alone time to function. However, I am in a profession and ministry that surrounds me with people. I love it, don't get me wrong, but it had been seemingly difficult to find some silence and alone time. So, out of spiritual desperation, I signed up for a silent retreat. Confirmations from God always happen in threes for me. So I had called another Sister friend and asked her about her suggestion for a silent retreat. She mentioned the place where I had just booked my retreat. I then went to one of the Sisters with whom I work and asked for her suggestion. She said the same place. My third confirmation came later when my Dad told me that my grandfather with whom I had been very close in my early years, had often went there for retreat. I knew I was meant to go there. I knew that my needs for silence and for a retreat was real. 

     It has been a while since I've been on retreat and so it was time for one. I felt I needed silence, not necessarily a directed, silent, retreat, but just silence. I was ready and excited to go and be away from all the confusing, conflicting, exciting, energetic aspects of my life, because truly in the past few months, things have just built and built. I knew this because I know myself. But when I was speaking to the students, I realized, my confusion was probably coming from not being able to listen and hear God clearly. My own confusion was coming from having a small (or rather large) piece of fluff in my ears. And so, in a few minutes, after the final bell of the day rings, I am going to embark on my journey to a silent retreat. I have packed a few prayer books, my bible, my journal, some looseleaf, some snuggly pjs but most importantly, I have my walking boots. The only thing I plan on doing aside from participating in liturgy, is walking and walking pretty far. I will walk in silence to a place where I can remove the fluff and finally, hear God's voice clearly again. As I've told a few people, I'm going on retreat to figure out life. But in reality, I never will. Only God knows His plan for me. 

     And so, as I embark on this journey for the weekend, I have reached out and asked people if they have any special intentions they would like me to carry with me. My students, co-workers and friends have filled two pages back to back of intentions. I will carry your intentions with me as well. My journey begins in about ten minutes. I'll start be grabbing a Chestnut Praline Latte for the long car ride and I will be on my way. You're in my prayers. And to give you your own experience of silence, I'm not adding a song this time. Enjoy. 

To Whom It May Concern. Sincerely, Rejection

"I am crying over the loss of something I never had.

How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was - 

my dashed dreams, dashed hopes, and my soured expectations."

- E.L. James

    In these past months I have experienced everything from the rush of being a new graduate to the adventure of being FREE to the anticipation of hearing from potential employers to the anxiety of being rejected by the same potential employers. What's tough about being in education is that in order to apply anywhere for teaching, you need to have your certification. The tough part about that is you can't get certified until after graduation and even then, it might take a while. So needless to say, my summer was filled with lots and lots of waiting.

    It started out as an excited adventure. I was a new graduate, I had just gotten back from my two weeks in Peru and things were looking great. I had a few promising potential employment options and so, I decided to give myself a week or so of Summer before I started typing up resumes and letters and then mailing them out. Sooner or later, I was getting all sorts of clearances in the mail but not my certification yet. But finally, it came. While I was waiting, I had gotten a call for a seemingly really promising potential employer. I had a personal connection with the school, it seemed to be something that would be perfect for a first year or two teaching, and it was a comfortable spot. The interview went so well and I was getting excited. I even let myself dream up classroom decorations and lesson plans before I heard back. I was so sure that I was going to get this job because I (and everyone under the sun) was praying for me to get the job. A week passed and I was in the middle of answering an email when my phone started ringing. Here it is, I thought, the call. I was so ready to accept the position that when they told me I wasn't chosen for the job, it didn't quite register. 

    In the process of waiting to hear back from this potential employer, I put every other resume and cover letter on hold. I was so sure that this job was mine that I stopped panicking about getting a job. At this point it was now early-July. I had only about six weeks left of summer…that was, of course, if I got a teaching job. 

     The phone call hit me hard and I actually let myself have a debbie downer day during which I stayed in bed and cried every other hour because I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. How was I ever going to use my degree? How was I going to pay off my loans? How was I going to move on with my post-grad life? How? How? How? I was so upset that a friend had to come and cheer me up a little bit. It worked but the next day, I used my blues as motivation to find a job. I searched the Archdiocesan website for DRE and Youth Ministry jobs. I sent out five letters that day and one by one the emails came back informing me that the positions had just recently be filled. Rejection again. I finished my education application packets for the Archdiocese and sent them off. Nothing. I applied to the local county library system. Again, nothing. I even applied to Barnes and Noble just as a side job to hold me over until I got a real job. I was rejected from not just one store location but two. I was starting to feel a little hopeless. That's when another friend who had been on the lookout for his own job, sent me a link for a Campus Ministry position. The application was due in two days. I sent it as soon as I could. 

     After waiting a few days, I heard back and was asked to set up a phone interview. I was so nervous that I completely messed up answering the first question. I thought I bombed the interview. But that afternoon, I got a second phone call. This time, they wanted to set up a second interview. In less than 24 hours I had to prepare multiple facets of information and material to present to an esteemed board of five administration members. I was sick to my stomach as I drove the forty minute drive to the school. I was conscious about everything from my nail polish color to my shoe choice. But I made sure I wore my BVM blue just for luck. I knew I had a an army of people praying for me so I had to let go and let God. When I did, I was amazed. 

    I was told there was one other applicant and that they would be in touch. The following week, I was on vacation with my family when I got yet another phone call. I was being called in for a third interview. At this point, I was thinking, well this is mildly extensive and maybe quite ridiculous. But the more I learned about the job, the more I wanted it. I was going to do everything I could to get it. But at the same time, I was so used to rejection by this point that I was almost sure I wasn't getting the job. I left the house the morning of my third interview with cover letters and resumes in envelopes ready to be mailed off to three more schools if I didn't get the job. Of course, a dear friend told me that they wouldn't ask me to drive all the way out to the school for a third interview if they weren't too interested. I agreed, but still was hesitant. I made the decision to not get my hopes up like I had for the last really promising job so that if I was rejected, my hopes and dreams didn't have as far a drop when they came crashing down. 

    They never asked me to prepare anything for the third interview so I basically went in cold-turkey like I had for the phone interview. This time, however, there were only two people sitting in front of me. I was asked a few more questions and when the principal asked me if I wanted to job and why, I had tears fill my eyes as I spoke about my passions. My whole life, the thing that fueled every little event of my life was my faith. This job in Campus Ministry would not only give me an outlet to keep on doing what I have been doing (service, liturgy, retreat, teach), but it would be a greater outlet for me to reach young women much like myself and allow them to do the same. If that didn't scream passion, I don't know what would have. When I finished answering, the president offered me the job. A smile grew and grew and grew across my face. I couldn't believe it. I was finally employed. I was accepted, not rejected. 

    In all of my endeavors in trying and trying to get employed, I kept lessening and lessening my expectations. I had what I thought was my dream job in mind and it was the first one to reject me. After that I started looking for jobs further and further away from my what my major was. I had always wanted to teach. But then I started looking for positions that weren't teaching but still had a religious aspect to them. Then I was looking at things that didn't even have them. And all the while, people were praying and praying for me to find a job. I remember one week visiting the IHM Motherhouse when every Sister kept asking me if I had gotten a job yet. They suddenly had faces of determination when I said no. They were going to pray even harder. Some suggested Mary in the style of IHM life, but others suggested St. Joseph, the great provider. 

   I was anxious, I must admit. But there was also a huge calm over me. In my relationship with God, I have learned that I always have to wait for good things to come my way. I had to trust that God was going to provide for me. I knew He was going to, I just didn't know when or where. I was trying to do my part, but again, it was rejection after rejection after rejection. There had to be something in all of this negative news. I was sure God was going to give me something, anything. Then, I started praying to St. Joseph myself. I kept praying to Mary (hoping she would gently push her husband to, you know, getting me a job), but I added St. Joseph to the prayer list. (I had even started praying to St. Jude, patron of hopeless causes….). Then suddenly, I was provided with a job. The connections my new job has with St. Joseph are astronomical and I know this is truly a gift from God. 

    What I learned from all this rejection in my life this past Summer was that often God allows some good things not to happen so that GREATER things CAN. So for example, all those jobs that I was applying to were good, the first one was a perfect fit, but God had something better in mind. Of course, I only saw the negative rejection at those moments. However, I was still sure that God was going to provide for me. If it wasn't for a slight positive attitude, the rejections would have gotten to me. But, I was holding on to my thin string of creative hope and praying that God would provide.

    When I landed to job, I was overjoyed. The more and more I learn about what I get to do, the more I know that this is the job God had in store the entire time. I get to coordinate service trips and projects, I get to plan liturgies (with the music!!), I get to plan retreats, I get to minister with a group of amazing young women, I get to teach a class on Catholic Social Teaching, I get to be the best Becca I can be and love every moment of living out my job. I get the feeling that God created this job for me. I feel like He literally handed it to me personally. This job was made for me. 

     Someone asked me today how I found this school. I laughed a little and said, I didn't find it, it found me. I never in a million years would have looked at the school employment site for a job if it hadn't been for the friend who sent me the link. I never thought about doing Campus Ministry after four years of English/Secondary Ed in school, even though before college that's all I ever wanted to do. I get to teach Theology, something I wanted to do from the very beginning. I get to do everything that I've fallen in love with doing the past four, if not more, years. God hooked me up real sweet. 

     This Summer was a rough one with lots of ups and downs. I was facing lots of rejection and lots of challenges. I was up against what seemed to be the world, but I knew that my God would take care of me. I trusted enough to hang on until the my thread of hope was very thin. I called on my spiritual mother to take care of me with her gentle compassion. I asked St. Joseph to provide as he did for his beloved family so many times. I prayed and prayed and so did so many others. (I can't thank you all enough, you know!). I am so happy and so beyond grateful that this place found me. God is so good. 

SEARCH and Find

"I think you travel to search and you come home to find yourself there."

- Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

The SEARCH VII team huddles for a prayer before giving the retreatants their retreat crosses.

    Weeks and weeks of planning had gone into actually executing the plan. The closer we got to the dates of the retreat, the more nervous anxiety welled up within. The week before we had planned to leave for the retreat, each day I spent fighting the tears of anxiety welling up inside. I knew that anything could tip me off and make me cry. The thing that I did eventually cry about? Misplacing candlesticks. Trust me, it was an emotional roller coaster of a few weeks. But maybe before I jump right in the middle, I should start at the beginning.

     One Sunday night, after Mass, Sister Cathy had asked me to come in for work study...she never asks me to come in on a Monday morning. But alas, it was agreed that I would sacrifice my post-Mass morning nap to go to work study. When I sluggishly walked into the office, one of my best friends, Theresa, was sitting in the chair in her office. I suddenly felt like I crashed a party because for the first time I forgot to see if anyone was in her office before I walked in. As I started to walk out, Sister told me to take the other seat in her office. Then I knew I wasn't interrupting anything, but rather that I was being ambushed. I wasn't sure what was about to happen but Sister was super serious as she said, "I have a question for both of you." We looked at each other, I was terrified, Theresa was just awkward and giggly. So we nodded and encouraged her to ask away. That's when she asked us both to be head team for the annual SEARCH retreat offered to students at IU. We both said yes.

      The next few weeks were filled with "I should have said no..." "I can't really do this..." "I am definitely not good at this stuff..." aka lots of doubt that Sister choose the wrong person. Yet, I knew God was somewhere in this. I remembered often back to the SEARCH IV retreat I made as a Freshman. I remembered back a year ago to the SEARCH VI retreat I helped lead. I reflected on the journey I was taking now. SEARCH for me had always been and always will be a journey of love - giving it and receiving it. It is often so easy for me to love others - I can love so many without hesitation. When it comes to receiving love, however, I struggle. I struggle a lot. There's a belief in oneself that must occur in order to be able to receive love. Often, it's a belief that one is worth another's love. That's my SEARCH story. And every week when we met, whether it was as just the head team or the entire team of leaders, I thought of that. I thought about how I never actually opened up about my SEARCH story...nope, not until I confessed it at our leader retreat.

       A few weeks before the actual retreat, the leaders got together for a weekend retreat of our own. It was a whirlwind of reflecting on questions, reading talks, eating lots of food and praying for our future retreatants. Over the past few weeks our group had grown intensely close and we had been able to share our personal stories. I'm not sure what question sparked the discussion this time around but it had to deal with Living the Fourth but suddenly three of us were crying. We were sharing stories and that's when I began to tell everyone of my struggle with love. 

      Suddenly weeks became days before the retreat. I don't necessarily stress about things, I'm used to dysfunction as someone might say, but I was stressed about SEARCH this time around. Perhaps all my fears were coming in full force. As I walked into the Motherhouse Portress office on the night before we left for SEARCH, the council was gathered waiting to leave for something. That's when Sister William Therese opened her arms for me and gave me the hug I needed. That's when I cried a little. Me, the girl who doesn't cry in front of anyone, was suddenly crying in the Portress Office. I was worried but I was reminded by those nunnies that I love so much, that truly everything is in God's hands and He has all control. 

      Fast forward to Friday afternoon at 4:30 pm in Lourdes Security. No longer was I worried. The time had come and there was nothing I could do about it. So, I wrapped my bandana bow in my hair, pulled up the mom van to the circle and began to drum up the excitement in the room well...hallway. By the time we were in the car getting ready to go, I was blaring the SISTER ACT soundtrack with my new SEARCH Sisters, Brittany, Madison and Jennifer. We belted out all the words as we drove down the turnpike. I didn't need the directions because the way to Gretna Glen was carved in my heart and when we pulled into the drive, I was more than excited. 

     I think I cried more this SEARCH than any other. That's not to say the others didn't affect me as much, but it's to say that this SEARCH came at a time when I really needed it. I was reaffirmed in my own self-worth, I was able to believe that I was a little bit loveable, and I gained a whole new SEARCH family. I think the hardest part came at the end when Sister Cathy put my new SEARCH cross around my neck. I almost cried in front of everyone. And then, I turned to Theresa who was crying. *cue waterworks*. There was a moment when I was so tempted to snuggle up to Sis while we sat and reflected at AGAPE, but she was so precious with her eyes closed and face so full of peace. I didn't want to scare her. 

     Of course, there were plenty of hilarious moments where I was roaring laughing so hard my stomach hurt like when James ate that apple off the floor during his skit, or when Sis freaked out the second morning I woke her up, or when we made Jen sleep in the hallway, or when Dan the Cabin Man found out his nickname, or every time we clapped when Sis (Tyra Banks) entered the room or when Theresa, Jen and I laughed so hard we snorted. So many memories were made, so many tears were shed, so many laughs were had and so many pictures were taken. When I say that SEARCH was my saving grace this year, I mean it. I needed it more than I can even describe. 

     When I think back to all the doubt I had about Sister asking me to be a head team leader, I still wonder why on earth she asked me. But, I also can't thank her enough because truly it was what I needed. Maybe she knew, even months before that I was going to need this reminder of love. Maybe God had it in His plans all along. While the struggle to getting to SEARCH VII was a long and hard one, I truly needed it. I have tears of gratitude running down my face now as I write. I'm on a SEARCH journey of giving and receiving love. Oh I wish it wasn't so late, otherwise I'd probably knock on Sis' door and ask her for a hug. I guess that's what work study is for tomorrow. Thanks SEARCHERS of SEARCH VII for helping me more than you can even imagine.To my fellow leaders, thanks for carrying me through this journey of realization of self worth. To Sis, just thanks for everything. Can I have a hug tomorrow?

Happy Eucharist (That's Not A Typo)

"I got life, I got love, 

I got faith and that's enough. 

We feel sorrow, we feel pain,

But there's sunshine after rain.

So I'm alright (you'll be fine, take it one day at a time)."

- "I'm Alright," Jake Miller

      While I haven't been blogging much at all (this is only the second time this month), I hope you can each take comfort in knowing that it's a direct result of my throwing myself completely and wholly into my student teaching. Yes, my students mean everything to me. I may not have been documenting my every reflection, but by far this semester has been one of the most spiritually uplifting. I have so much to reflect on and to be grateful for. And since we are in the spirit of Thanksgiving (and I have a few days off), I figured I'd share a bit with you.

      Last Sunday at my Parish, I was so blessed to lead the first of many monthly retreats. After having postponed the first one due to many reasons, we were able to finally get together and allow the Spirit to move. I can honestly say, I was so happy and thankful to God for allowing me to use my gifts to allow thirty plus people, moms, dads, grandparents, kids and teens to retreat at my home parish. Between being able to give a thirty minute keynote speech and then sing with my dearhearted friend, Sister Catherine, I was beaming with happiness from the goodness of God. The theme of the retreat? Gratitude.

     I spoke of how happiness is correlated with gratitude. The more thankful one is, the happier. I spoke of a study that proved this and then made our retreatants write down the name of the most influential person in their lives with a list of reasons why they are influential. I told them that "having gratitude but not expressing it is like wrapping a gift but not giving it," (Ward). While we didn't share these out loud, I asked, if given the chance, would they call that person on the phone and thank them, read them the list of reasons why? Many heads shook yes. I shared my own experience of doing this and wondering who I would call and thank. I listed my parents, my friends, my college math professor, my high english teacher. Then I thought alittle more out of the box and thought of calling Peru and Jamaica. Finally, I hit the nail on the head by saying I'd call God. 

     I spoke at length about what I'd say to God if I could catch a direct line to his ear. I spoke about being thankful for all the miracles in my life and especially my students (I love them all so much!). I gave various classroom examples of my students and how much they had changed my life. I spoke about how I thank God even for the hardships in my life. But I spoke about how when I wake up, the first thing I do is thank God for letting me live another day. I get dressed and ready for the day then head to Mass. Eucharist, in our church lingo, actually, literally means "Thanksgiving." Each day, I find myself thanking God for everything under the sun at Mass. It may be a tough day, but I'm still grateful. 

     I urged the retreatants to begin by expressing gratitude for every little thing that happens in their lives. I urged them to thank God for the miracles because once they begin doing that, not only will they be happier, but they will also be able to thank God for all the hardships in their life. For truly, despite hardship and pain, God is good, all the time. Expressing gratitude is not a habit, even though sometimes I thank myself for opening the door for others and for myself, but rather a way of life. One must truly express thanksgiving from the heart each and every time in order to be happy. When people ask me my secret to happiness, I can only say that it's because I am grateful. 

     On Tuesday, it was my last official day in front of the classroom. For the next week, I will resume my wall flower position in the back of the room and watch as my teacher once again regains her students. So, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I showed them the video I will attach at the bottom of this blog. I told them that being grateful for what they have makes them happier and then I thanked them. Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't cry. On Friday, my last day, I will most likely sob hysterically when I have to leave my students. One of my favorite students hugged me on Tuesday saying it was her official hug goodbye. I hugged her in return and told her I said I still had a week. She said, "I know. But you're the best, Miss G." I smiled. I have been blessed to the nines with them, my dear cherubs, my angels. I love them and today, I am most grateful for them.

      I am so grateful for so much, for I have so much. And I know that from those to whom much is given, much is asked. Jesus, I'm ready to give you all that you ask of me. I know that perhaps my life holds much difficulty and challenge, but I know for sure that my life holds ahead much happiness. There is so much to be grateful for today and that includes the lovely family I will be spending my Thanksgiving with and my friends who will consistently snapchat me all day about their festivities. I am grateful for the heat in my house and the very fact that I will have a Thanksgiving dinner. I am grateful for my little Sisters and my big Sisters, in black, blue and white. I am thankful for all my gifts and I am thankful for the many hugs and heart to hearts I had yesterday with my IHM Sisters at school. I am grateful for the four dollars in my wallet that paid the toll home. I am thankful for the sunshine pouring in my window as I write this. But most importantly, I am grateful for my faith, for without it, I would have nothing. 

      Today, I am happy because I am grateful. I am thankful for all that God has given me and all that He will give me. I am beaming, smiling ear to ear with happiness because today is a great day. Because each day is a great day if I choose to be grateful! And today, every day, I plan to be! Happy Eucharist, everyone. And to all my Jewish friends, especially my boyfriend, Jesus, Happy Hanukkah! 

Being Bread, Blessed and Broken

"Bread, blessed and broken for us all.

Symbol of Your love from the grain so tall.

Bread of life You give to us, 

Bread of life for all."

- Michael Lynch

    It's been a very LONG time since I've blogged but let me catch you up why before I get into this post. Once I arrived safely home from Peru (I still miss it every day...more and more as each day passes...), I was well on my way back to IU for ten days for Orientation Training and then four intense days of New Student Orientation. I left our second session of Orientation a few hours early (after having a sweet and much needed chat with Sister Cathy) and headed for CREW (Community Rocks Everyone's World). I went from one community of sisters to another and back again. I went from convent living to residence hall living to convent living in a residence hall setting. In the process of those two weeks I did a plethora of things such as: meet tons of new people, fall in love (again and again), work my behind off in sweltering hot conditions, reflect and lose a lot of sleep. I wouldn't trade these past few weeks for anything in the world because I am a true believer in the fact that I am always exactly in the location that God needs me in. That is, I know that wherever I am, with whomever I am, I am always where God intended. However, that wasn't all. As you can well imagine, I did an awful lot of thinking. Doing a lot of traveling alone (eg driving in my car) gives me a lot of time to think and reflect on my life, where I have been and where I am going. 

     It started when I left my residence hall early Saturday morning to drive home to Mount Nazareth for Mass and then to help my dear CSFN Sisters set up and prep for CREW 2013. It typically takes me about 45 minutes to an hour to get from Croydon to IU and vice versa. It was smooth sailing down the turnpike that early in the morning and I couldn't help but praise the Lord all the way there. I was going to see my dear Sister Bernice one more time before she headed back home to CT AND celebrate Mass with my sisters. Most of my thinking on the way home was about the previous week I had had at school during training and then during the first Orientation Session. I had met many new students, bonded with my already very close friends and shared a bit of my Peru experience with them. 

     After Mass, breakfast and set up, I was soon on my way back to IU. Since I was already in the city, I decided to head home by a different way. However, since I was away for a month, I had forgotten about the miserable construction and traffic route 95 provides at any time during any day. The normal one hour ride took me two and let me tell you, I was not a happy camper. I finally made it back to school and jumped right back into Orientation mood only to jump right out again on Tuesday as I started CREW. 

     I arrived at CREW just in time for supper and left shortly after to attend a viewing for a dear and very loved Parish family member. It was so difficult to hold back my tears as I said goodbye to one of my number one cheerleaders here on earth. She was always uplifting me and doing her best to keep me in prayer and thought. The line was longer than imaginable and even there I did some of my best reflection and prayer. Standing among my Parish family there was tons to think about and think did I do. 

     I can honestly say that in the past two weeks I have experienced a lot along the emotional and spiritual roller coasters. I was struggling to truly find words to speak about or even write about but I couldn't. No, not until Wednesday evening when we were sitting as a CREW and CSFN Family during Sister Romuald's funeral. The dear woman, one who I have blogged about once before, was in her nineties and had lived a most beautiful life. The chapel was filled and so, we girlies had to bring with us into chapel chairs from the dining room. I sat by myself in the back as a mother looking upon her CREW children and as a little sister looking with awe upon her older sisters and wisdom figures. For the first time in a very long time, I realized, I was able to belt out the hymns during Mass and sing in harmony with many other beautiful voices. I realized this as Sister Josepha played "Bread, Blessed and Broken" on the organ and my heart began to leap for joy in this realization. The next morning all my thoughts from the past two weeks hit me...

      Bread, Blessed and Broken. This song, for any Catholic, is an obvious one; it's all about Jesus. It's about Jesus becoming the Eucharist, the bread and the wine we drink. It's a song begging Jesus to come into our hearts and minds to ease the pains and to make us whole again. It's about proclaiming one's love for Jesus from the very beginning of life to the very end. I found the song so fitting for the funeral of Sister Romuald and then the next day, found it so fitting for my life. You see, I took that song for a very deep reflection. In fact, I was almost scrambling around for a pen in the middle of Mass. But I knew no one would have one so I tried really hard to remember...and to sit still. We are called, as Christians, Christ to others. That is, just as Christ took on flesh to save us, we are to put on Christ and be Him for the world. Jesus, at every Mass transforms from bread to Eucharist, blessed and broken. And so, if we were to become Christ, we are to become Bread, Blessed and Broken. 

    In my life, I can honestly, I have been through many trials and tribulations. Because I have been bread for others in my personal putting on of Christ, I have been so blessed. But, like many, I had forgotten that being bread for others also entailed me as broken. Often when I am aching and I feel like my heart is breaking, I question God. I ask Him why on earth things hurt so much. Why do things such as leaving someone you love or having someone you love leave you, hurt so much. Well, it's a three fold reflection here. 

    I have learned easily to love much and love many (all). I can easily love those around me and those who seem so far away (my dear ones in NOLA, Jamaica and now, Peru). You saw me write in the course of the past two weeks, I have fallen in love. Yes, I have. Not for the first time and not for the last time. I met new people and learned to love them quickly upon first meeting them and without judgement. But I also spent a lot of time with my very close friends, both guys and gals, with whom, I felt a much deeper connection by the end of the week. Bread, as you know, especially if you eat it, fills one up. It reduces hunger quickly and often, is a staple at many meals. Being bread calls for me to love and fulfill the need for love in others. Falling in love was easy, I had that part of being bread down pat. Although, and I'm not quite sure if Jesus (or actual bread) experienced this, but sometimes I can fall in love too far. While this happens on rare occasion, I can sometimes find myself falling a little further in love with one of my very close guy friends. That may or may not have happened this week. Regardless, it usually nevers goes much beyond me thinking how great of a husband that young man may be. I often can't help falling in love with everyone. 

    The blessed part also comes very easy to me. You see, I have learned (not perfected) to see God in maybe of my day to day life situations, even in the unfortunate ones. Just like Laura Story says, "Maybe Your blessings come through raindrops." I know that I am so blessed. At the end of every day, I thank God for all the blessings with which He provided me. At my waking each day, I find myself thanking God that I awoke that morning. Sometimes, if I am experiencing a case of the Debbie Downers, I will answer your "How are yah?" with an, "I'm alright, I'm alive." I know that whatever God sends me during any day is what I need. I may not know it at the time, but I know that I can trust Him. Perhaps this might be the easiest part of being bread. 

    The hardest part is this: the suffering. Of the many things I have experienced in the past two weeks in the transferring of two of my closest sisters. And when I mean closest, I mean, I can already feel the distance between us. I have experienced this time and time and time again and I know it is a part of religious life regardless of the community. I thought that I had come to peace with the fact that moving is a part of life. I told myself, if I am not okay with it now when others are transferring, how am I ever going to be able to handle it myself when it comes time for me to leave a place I have so long called home? And so, I thanked God for the blessings of Facebook, Email, Telephone and Skype. Even though the sisters who have moved far away have been so close, I took it all to prayer and came to the peace. However, this time around it seemed to hurt a little bit more. Why? Well I'm not too sure. But perhaps  it is because it feels like the wounds have been reopened. I know there is always a means to communicate, but that doesn't mean it won't hurt to feel the distance. And yes, I know the pain is all part of being human, so I embrace it. But it still stinks....alot. 

     The truth is this: I have realized that the brokenness of being bread comes first. Whether it is to my sisters, my family, my friends or those I am just meeting for the very first time, I must give them a piece of myself. I am the loaf and in loving them, I must break off a piece for each person I come in contact with. I, without realizing, had already been broken so many times. But, I never really thought about it in this way. It is allowed to hurt, because Jesus hurt. Jesus was just as human as you and me and He hurt, too. He was broken in so many ways, when He lost Lazarus, when He was beaten on the road to Calvary, when He felt betrayed. He was broken to give of Himself. We are broken not in the literal sense but rather figuratively. We are broken to give ourselves to one another and we are broken because we are human. And with the brokenness of giving a piece of ourselves to every person we meet, we are blessed tenfold in return. 

      After reflecting on this, after falling a little too far in love again, after experiencing the pain of losing those I love both from this earth and in the transferring, after experience intense graces and prayer in the past two weeks, I can honestly say I know now what it means when God calls us on to be Bread for the World. We are called to be Bread, Blessed and Broken and by george, I think, that with the help of many, I can do it. 

Holding Hands With God

"I, the Lord, have grasped you by the hand. 

I formed you and set you as covenant of the people, 

a light for the nations to open the eyes of the blind,

to bring prisoners out from confinement

and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness."

- Isaiah 42

      The wind was blowing my curly hair every which way and the ocean was spraying its salt spit at my face. The sun was now a bright orange circle just above the horizon, something I watched form from somewhere on the expressway. The sand was cold between my toes and it was starting to drizzle. My glasses were sitting on my messy, salted hair and my eyes were closed when I felt the gentle hand of my dear sister on my shoulder. All around us were the retreat girls and the other sisters giggling or running down the beach. I looked her in the eyes and smiled; I felt a humility in my heart. She began to tell me how much she loved me as we walked arm and arm down the beach. To anyone else, the woman appeared as a grandmother walking next to me (as we share the same very curly hair). To me, she was my sister, not just my Sister, but my sister.

     As the wind and the rain picked up, we walked to take shelter in the lifeguard stand. Of course, for someone who had had double knee replacements, this was a feat to be had. So, I got up first, and then with all the strength I could fathom, pulled her up. Together, we sat. Literally, we just sat there in the quiet and let ourselves simply be. Eventually, she took my hands in hers and opened them. She then simply placed them in my lap and said, "Always pray with open hands, Bec. Always." This was two Summers ago. From that moment on, I, without a doubt, always pray with my hands open. 

     After our prayer on the beach, the whole group of us headed to Mass at a church so familiar to me from my childhood. We sat next to each other, giggling like little girls as the pews creaked with every move we made. After finally calming ourselves, we settled in, with hands wide open in our laps, and listened to the readings for the day. The reading was the above reading from Isaiah 42. This reading came back to remind me of the reason why I must pray with my hands open yesterday as it was the first reading for Monday of Holy Week. Needless to say, I got a little nostalgic in remembering the day at the beach so clearly.

      Sister Virginia, after Mass that day at the beach, sat back for a few minutes with me in our pew. She told me to close my eyes and leave my hands open as she read the few lines from Scripture above. It hit me. I got it. I understood. She told me that without my hands open, how could God grasp them. If I pray with my hands folded all the time, there is no room for God to literally take hold of my hands. Just as a person cannot give a hug with his or her arms folded, a person cannot have her hands held unless they are open. She continued by telling me that in praying with open hands, it is a physical image of me being open to whatever God wants to give me. A person cannot receive a gift if her hands are folded or balled up in fists. No, in order to receive all that God wants to give me, I must say to Him with my heart and my body that I am open. My hands are open for You, God, to place whatever it is You wish in my them. My heart is open and my hands are open. I am allowing You, God, the opportunity to GRASP my hands, to HOLD them tight, and to LEAD me wherever it is I must be led. 

      When I think back to that memory of the beach, I remember how much it changed my heart. I called Sister Virginia today to tell her that I was simply thinking of her yesterday and praying for her. She taught me a lot that day, more than just how to pray with openness. She taught me that in opening my hands, a seagull might decided that it's the perfect place to go after breakfast. She taught me that some people might take my hands and later let go. She taught me that my hands will help the elderly, the poor. They will get dirty, they will get rough, they will build houses, they will wipe away tears, they will touch hearts and souls. My hands, my being open, will do all that Christ would do if He walked this earth again. Just as in my most favorite prayer of all time by Teresa of Avila, mine are the hands and feet of Christ. But honestly the best part about learning to be open like this, is knowing full well that I am open to holding anyone's hands.

     I guess that's why I am such a hand holder. Even if I am simply walking with a friend down the street, I am most likely going to take their hand. This is why I hold the older sisters' hands when I visit them or simply am just saying hello. Being open to holding hands is so important for me because I am convinced that in the other hand, is the hand of God. In the hands of the children I play with like my sister or Caleigh and Meghan, in the hands of my Mommom, in the hands of my older Sisters at Camilla or the Mount, in the hands of my Daddy, in the hands of my peers during the Our Father at Mass, in the hands of anyone willing to place their hand in mine, is the hand of God. 

     I am brought to a more recent memory of my hands. Just two weekends ago, during SEARCH, it snowed (seriously...the snow....ugh). Snow, while I love it, also gives me reason to worry. You see, my biggest worry is that it will ice over and the sisters will fall. Honestly, that's my biggest fear. So, in the snow and ice, I was a little more than worried about Sister Cathy falling. Despite the fact that being clumsy is usually my job, I was worried about her simply slipping. You see, if you fall there, it's all down hill from there....literally. One slip and you're down the mountain. Anyway, so I offered my hand. And by the good grace of God, she took it. So, needless to say, Sister Cathy and I did a lot of precious hand-holding that weekend. But there was something different about holding hands with her. You see, she wasn't simply holding my hand for support on the ice, she was literally grasping it, as if she really was depending on my hand. 

     She put that line in Isaiah into true perspective for me. God said he has grasped my hand. Not merely held it, but rather, grasped it. Literally took hold of my now forever open hands as if He depended on it. And the truth is, so many people in my life have depended on my hands. Sister Virginia taught me a lot that day on the beach. But it all starts with being open. If we are not open, if our hands are not open and willing to accept all that God has in store for us, He cannot hold us; He cannot grasp our hands and make us light for those in darkness. 

I'll Carry You - Battling the Flu

"When you saw only one set of footprints, 

it was then that I carried you."

- "Footprints In The Sand"

      It's been a pretty frigid winter. I hate wearing a coat, but I'll often bundle up in multiple layers just to keep warm. One afternoon, the topic of getting and staying warm came up at work study with Sister Cathy. I began to tell her how hard it is to get warm in my room because my roommate and I have this on-going, back and forth, passive aggressive fight over the heat. I'll come in, turn it up, go to bed. She'll come in, turn it down, go to bed. I'll wake up in the middle of the night freezing (under five blankets) and turn it up again! Back and forth we go, turning it up or down when we enter the room if the other isn't looking. I just looked over at the heat adjuster...guess what: it's been knocked down again! Of course, this little debate we have going is all in good fun...except when I'm freeeeeeezing! I just can't ever get warm unless it's Summer outside! I like to be warm, I like to snuggle, I like to sit by a campfire, I like Summer heat, I like sunshine. I hate being cold. 

      This time last weekend, I was freezing by behind off despite snuggling next to two Searchers on the notorious blue couch. I had almost all the clothes I packed on my body and I was under two blankets. I had a distinct throw-back to freezing every night while in NOLA, but this was different. I could feel heat behind my eyes, but I was shivering. Earlier that day, I had rolled out of my bunk bed and shuffled over to where Sister Cathy was sitting. Like the SEARCH Mother she is, she felt my head and cheeks only to tell me what I was already fearing: a fever was coming. A few minutes later, I took the hottest shower of my life and was finally warm. But soon after, I couldn't get warm and up until about Wednesday, I spent almost every moment of my days shivering in my bed. I spent the rest of retreat, trying my hardest to be the active, bubbling over self I usually am, but I was sooo cold. I even was bundled under my blanket during Mass. Nothing like the flu to humble me. At least I had a beautiful SEARCH Family to carry me. 

       After retreat, our Peru group had a mandatory meeting about Peru. All I wanted was my bed and sleep, but alas, that was not going to happen. My little sister had to cuddle me for two hours while I tried to listen to "all I needed to know" before I went to Peru, but to be completely honest, I retained nothing. I was too focused on trying to stay awake. I think I slept twelve hours that night. For the first time in a very long time, I didn't set a morning alarm. When I woke up, I found quite a few layers on the ground under my bed. Apparently, I had started to sweat it out over night. But the fever wasn't gone for sure. In fact, it held on for a few days. Today is the first day I am actually starting to feel closer to 100% better; even my cough is minimal!

      Sickness always humbles me. While on retreat, I had to let people help me with things and let me tell you how perfect my small group was, especially my other leader half, Matt. The other leaders really helped me out and reminded me that no matter what, I am loved. Whether it was simply rubbing my back, or tucking me in, or bringing me a cold water bottle for my head, they stepped up to the bar. Also under the "taking care of Becca catagory" was sitting on Becca's feet, legs, entire body to keep her warm, taking horrendous pictures of her, holding her hand so she didn't fall and making her smile despite the rainy days. In fact, I'd go back to SEARCH VI in a heart beat, because of what it did for me. It reminded me how to truly live the Fourth in a whole new way. 

      Back on campus, all the beautiful retreat bliss faded, but the love didn't. On Monday, Sister Cathy brought me an extra smile and told me that I didn't have to come into work study all week. On Tuesday, Sister Elaine told me she was postponing the due date for our research paper. On Wednesday, Sister Marcille reminded me of our Cast and Crew's ministry to simply smile. On Thursday and Friday and today, so many more gave me gentle smiles, uplifting words and lots of hugs! I felt as if I was dragging my feet every place I went, every time I got out of my nice, warm, bed. And yet, God surrounded me by so many uplifting people. I received encouraging emails, heart warming conversations with the Mother General and lots of laughter from the sisters at work. I got check up text messages and facebook posts. I have never felt this loved before. And to think that I needed the flu to help me realize it. 

      The flu honestly helped slow me down! Of course, I'm sure a SEARCH high played a huge part in my realization that I am loved, but the flu really helped. I didn't realize the amount of people in my life who would be willing to help me when I need it until this past week. I almost refused to believe that people actually do care for and love me here at school. But I couldn't ignore all the love I was given, especially from people I didn't think loved me as much as they showed me this week. I was blessed with so many little things, like smiles, gentle words and hugs, that really, truly, deeply showed and reminded me that I am loved. I learned a lot this week, but most importantly was that I am loved. It's hard for the lovers to accept and realize that they too are loved and the flu definitely helped me. It showed me how many people are willing to carry me, because at most moments this past week, it felt like all the sisters were literally carrying me. My heart was definitely being carried...the rest of me was probably being dragged (especially by Sister Elaine!) I guess you could say I am grateful for the flu. So, thanks God, for knocking me down, giving me the flu and then giving me so many people willing to carry and love me. Thanks a lot, from the bottom of my heart! I'd do it all again in a heart beat!

This Girl Is On Fire - Advent Day 2

"She's just a girl and she's on fire.

She's living in a world and it's on fire.

Feeling the catastrophe, but she knows she can fly away.

Oh, she got both feet on the ground, 

and she's burning it down."

- "Girl On Fire," Alicia Keys

    The goal is to ready your hearts. That's the main goal of Advent. Ready your hearts for the coming of Jesus...the little baby. Over the past few weeks God has given me a lot to think about (and stress about....and by stress, I mean pray...). Advent is usually one of my most favorite seasons of the year because it is the start of the new Liturgical year. It means Christmas is coming. And yet, it seems this year that there is a bit of blockage in my heart. Things, inside, have honestly been a little rough lately. And since I told you this is about ups AND downs, I feel I can share!

    There are two weeks of school left and a ton of school work to accomplish. In addition, I am required to maintain somewhat of a social life by attending the Christmas activities. It's not that I don't want to, it's that I feel burnt out. But the burn out is more in my heart than in my brain. My heart is recovering by a little more brokenness than I think I chose to accept. It's trying to figure out relationships and how much can it share with someone without sharing too much. Who can it trust? Who can it bleed (cry) in front of? How much can it sacrifice until finally breaking? And how close can it get with people without it meaning more? You see, so many relationship issues have come into play in my life recently between friends, best friends, family members, and yes, boys. My heart has felt lonely in so many ways lately and the fire that seemingly used to be on fire is burning out. Logic says that water puts out flames even more so, but this Saturday, I learned that it is quite the opposite when it comes to the fire of the heart. 

    This past Saturday, we had a day long (seriously....8:30am to 10:30pm) retreat called "Hearts on Fire." Since we are being honest here, I'll tell you that as much as I love retreats, I don't like these types of retreats. It's hard for me to find "retreat" in a series of intellectual talks and strictly scheduled activities. For me, retreat should be a time where I can embrace quietude and less of a dependency on time. But, I went with it. I helped out more than I participated, registering people in the beginning, singing at Mass and the likes. At the end of the day, I really thought that I hadn't gotten much from God during the day. But, like usual, God was waiting for the last possible moment to give me a wow moment. He waits until I am just about to give up and surprises me. 

    My Daddy was coming to pick me up after Retreat, but he came a little early to hear the last talk and go to Adoration with us. While I can't honestly tell you what the last talk was about, I will remember Adoration forever. My dad and I sat in the same pew, but quite a distance apart. As soon as the Blessed Sacrament was exposed, tears started running down my face. Despite being surrounded by a ton of people, strangers at that, I just let the tears go as if it was just me and Jesus. As I was sitting, crying, in my heart, all I wanted was a hug. I wanted someone to wrap their arms around me and protect my heart. I wanted my heart to stop hurting so bad. I asked God for a hug. It was almost as if He said, "DUH," because I looked right at my real Daddy. So, I did what every little girl does when she's hurt. I went to my Daddy. He immediately put his arm around me and I cried. I cried, and essentially sobbed and he just held me. Oh to feel so little and protected again. Instead of the fire going completely out with the water of my tears, they were like kindling. 

     The next morning, after really reflecting on and thanking God for my hour of Adoration with my Daddy, I sat down and prepared myself to once again be a Sponsor for the Sacrament of Confirmation. For for the fifth time in my twenty years of life, I was a sponsor. And what a joy, yet again, it was. Ironically, the same Bishop was Confirming this time, confirmed me so many years before. It was so perfect that on this start of Advent, Giovanna took the name Anne (Mary's Mama). How excited Mary must have been to be expecting a baby, but imagine Grandma's joy! Especially for the FIRST GRANDBABY! Yes, how perfect Confirmation was! When Bishop Maginnis shook my hand at the end of Confirmation (after remembering confirming me so many years previously), he mentioned I should stay out of trouble. I answered as honestly as I could, "If only it were that easy." His response? "Touche, wise one. Try." It added a bit more kindling to the small flame beginning again in my heart!

      That afternoon, there was no rushing around, and so, I treated my littlest sister to a lunch date! I let her choose the place and the lunch we split (since we ironically have the smallest appetites ever). I even humored her by ordering a blue soda for her and for me. Needless to say, we were sick to our stomachs from laughing so hard, eating so much, and we both had blue tongues to share the tale. At the end of the date, she took my hand and said, "Well this was nice time spent together before you go back to school. Thanks, Becky." She sounded so mature for her little 8-year old self! I felt so blessed in that moment! The fire was growing bigger. 

      This fire, now slowly coming back like a campfire in the dead of Winter, was struggling still, but growing. I was trying so hard to feel something other than brokenness in my heart for this Advent and still, it didn't seem like this little flame was going to be enough. I had just finished my first class today when I remembered I had to stop by work study to get some info for an upcoming fundraiser. It went a lot shorter than I expected, actually. At the end, Sister Cathy surprised me by asking if I wanted to pray the Advent reflection with her. When I thought about it, she had never asked me to pray with her before. It's something I've done with so many other sisters, but never with her. It was definitely some unique kindling to add to my flame of heart. 

     So, after all of this being said, my heart is fostering a little flame inside. I can feel it really trying to grow. Maybe your heart is the same. Maybe you feel so cold that you can believe there's a fire there. Maybe all that is needed for a fire is there, you just need some flint or matches. Or maybe your heart already is a flaming hearth! However your heart may be, be open to the kindling that will be thrown into your fire. Maybe it's the Scriptures, maybe it's a conversation, maybe it's a bit of kindness and gentleness shown toward you. Whatever it is, I can guarantee that God is giving you kindling and logs for your fire! I'm waiting for my logs to come, just like I am waiting for Baby Jesus. God is preparing my heart for His son. Remember, it's going to be cold around here when Jesus comes. He's going to need some place warm to stay. Make it your heart. Be a girl (or guy) on fire!