My Magnificat

"My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord

and my Spirit rejoices in God, my Savior.

For he has looked with mercy on my lowliness.

For the mighty God has done great things for me."

- Holy Is His Name, John Michael Talbot

      As a lover of music and a lover of words, there have been many occasions on which I simply get overwhelmed. Today's young people can't really say that their music contains rich vocabulary, but I can tell you that there is still music being produced with words of a little more depth than "yeah," "baby, baby, baby," and "oh, oh, oh." Thank God for these musical groups and artists, as their music is a gift. However, there are many genres of music which tap into my heart strings, whether it be because of the memories it brings me, the moment in which they are being played or the depth of words in them. Whether I am driving, dancing or discovering music, I sometimes, while listening deep, find myself choked up. I don't dismiss those tears, but rather, I embrace them. I know, with every tear shed, the song is growing in importance to my journey. Naturally, I am only writing of this, because this weekend, I had one of those moments. 

     I was blessed to be asked to guest cantor at my home parish this past weekend as we celebrated our feast day, St. Thomas Aquinas. While I had to drive a little longer and wake up a little earlier, it was still going home for Mass, for me. Singing has always been a special gift for me, a way for me to praise my God. Every time before Mass, I sit on the altar, patiently waiting and conversing with my Lord. I ask him to make my voice strong in his praise and I thank him for the gift he has given me. Whether I am in the pew, or cantoring, it is my way. And so, it becomes that each word in the song, is then my prayer; a prayer I have not written and yet, can pray. I will be honest and say, I hadn't given much thought to the list of songs on the schedule. And perhaps, that is why, when the piano intro began for "Holy Is His Name," I was taken aback more than I usually am. 

     This song has been a favorite of mine for as long as I can remember. It is my favorite composition of Mary's prayer, the Magnificat, a prayer I have constantly re-written in my own words. In her moment of fear, Mary did nothing but praise her God; she found nothing but joy in her humility. The words of Mary have meant so much to me for so long, that when I cannot find the words to express my gratitude to God, I depend on these words. Singing her words only mean so much more. So when it came time to plan the Liturgy for our wedding, I knew right away that instead of the traditional "Ave Maria," a prayer to Mary, I wanted the Magnificat, the prayer of Mary. I remember Father Rudy telling our bridal party and our parents at our rehearsal, that this small part of the Mass would be my special chance to ask Mary to help me be a good woman, a good wife and a good mother. But, I knew it would be more than that. 

      Mary, in her magnificat, glorifies the goodness for the suddenness of womanhood, wife-hood and motherhood being thrust upon her. While she had a choice, her yes must have been one filled with all kind of emotion. Any "yes" to God's plan would be filled with emotion - fear, doubt, feeling unsure, joy, gratitude, love, and so much more. Because, let's be real, saying "yes" to God's plan, is saying "yes" to the unknown. In my prayer life, my "yes" to God's plan, not "God's plan that says this, that and the other thing will happen," just simply, "God's plan," was filled with emotion. It was a real, "Your will, God, not my own," every day and will be for the rest of my life. And because of that, the Magnificat becomes even more real for me. While it seems to elicit different thoughts now, it is still just as real for me as it had been before. Actually, it may be even more real. 

    So as the music began, I could only smile at the true depth of connection my heart was feeling with the Magnificat. It wasn't just a song; they weren't just words. It was a prayer and it was my prayer. As I sang, it was my soul glorifying the Lord, my life being humbled by his presence in my life. The lord has truly done so many great things for me. And then, I choked up. My eyes, my heart and my soul welled up. I thought back to December 8, the beautiful Marian feast day on which Joe and I will celebrate our marriage as an sign and symbol of the Church, and how blessed I've been since then in only a month and a half. I considered all the beautiful lives who witnessed our marriage, religious, married, single, young, old but all the same beautiful. The unlimited support we've been given and all thanks to our amazing God. 

     Mary and I haven't always had this beautiful relationship and I truly believe I needed her in ways I never imagined. She will be my source of strength for a continuous yes, for strength in marriage and as a wife, and eventually, for strength in motherhood. I can only thank her for being my friend, my confidante and role model. And because of that, last night I went to visit her in the IHM Motherhouse Chapel. I felt peaceful being there, praying with the Sisters, praying the words of the Magnificat of Evening Prayer. But the icing on the cake of my feelings of being blessed, was the intercession prayed for married couples. There weren't pools of tears in my eyes that time, but there was a smile stretched far across my face. My soul truly glorifies the Lord, for he has been so incredibly good to me. 

Being The Little Sister: Grief Edition

"What I longer for, I now see; what I hoped for, I now possess;

in Heaven, I am espoused to Him whom on earth I loved with all my heart."

- Morning Prayer Antiphone for the Feast of St. Agnes, January 21

    Sometimes, I like to pretend that I am little. You may say that I already am little, as I stand only five foot tall and am light enough to be carried on various people's backs. You may say I am little because I have an air of innocence. But I like to pretend that I am little like Lizzie. I like to pretend that I can hug everyone and hang on really tight like she does. But mostly, I like to pretend that when I am upset, I can just knock on my big sister's door and then snuggle up to her and cry as she holds me. And then I remember, that sometimes I don't have to pretend. 

    When I look up into the infinite sky, I can only feel miniature. I think, out of all the people that need God's love this day, He choose little me to send me a Valentine of sorts. He choose little, itty, bitty me, to warm my heart. When I look into the eyes of my many sisters, I, too, feel so little. These women have gone years and years before me in school, have accomplished so much in their lives, and still are so humble. When I sit with them in Mass, I feel so little and yet, I feel loved. Because I am little in two senses: little as in very young in experience and little as in the little sister.

    There is a bond between sisters that is so hard to describe, but if you have a sister, you know how strong and unique that bond is. Even from far away, I know when my little sisters need me. I know when they need a hug and some loving words. I know my sisters and they, in turn, know me. This bond exists between some of my religious sisters and myself, as well. Which essentially makes this so hard to write.

     As we were practicing for church choir before Mass last night, Sister Cathy made her way over to us. Just before were various moments of laughter and joking and suddenly it was as if a bomb had been dropped on my heart. Often times, I feel, I can "guess" what a person is about to say and prepare myself to react accordingly. However, what she had told us was such a shock to me that I reacted like a little child. I even surprised myself with my reaction. My mouth immediately gaped open and my hand flew to my mouth. Tears immediately started filling up in my eyes. I couldn't even look Sister Cathy in the eyes. I turned around, told myself to get myself together, and turned back, still with a hand over my mouth. I reacted as Becca in the raw (and rare) form. I acted like a child, like a little sister, like Lizzie. 

     During Mass, I tried my usual coping mechanism: not thinking about it. But alas, as Father began the familiar Homily (I had heard it earlier yesterday morning), I began to think about it. A steady stream of silent tears fell down my face and for the first time, I didn't care who saw me crying. Because just moments prior, as I sang the Psalm, I saw our president, Sister Pat, wipe away her steady stream of tears, too. I was numbed by the shock and felt the loss times 48 because sisters feel each others' pains,  and I felt my sisters' pains. 

     After Mass, on my way to replace some borrowed "furniture" from behind the altar, Sister Denise and I caught each others' glances. It took a matter of two seconds for her to know and for me to know, that we needed each other in that moment. So we hugged, and she held me tight as I cried a little more. I thanked her and I thanked God for all of my sisters.

     It wasn't until daily Mass this morning that I really began to reflect on my "little-ness." I realized that as normal as it was for me to attend daily Mass, I didn't quite fit in. Most mornings I am the only student. All the time, I am the youngest (by far with no insult intended...). And yet, as I began togo through the list of reasons why I appear out of place, I remembered my being a little sister. I've attended daily Mass with these sisters almost every day (for the exception of holidays and breaks) for the past three years. I have my own particular seats in our Chapels and the sisters get worried if I don't show up on a day I usually am there. I get hugs and kisses during the sign of peace and beautiful smiles around campus. I have essentially made my way into being part of this family of sorts. And that being said, I feel all their pains and my own, too.

     Heaven gained a few angels yesterday, one of them being our dear Sister Marie Albert. It's so rare, they say, to lose a "school" sister and a school sister she was. And so, I believe that in addition to the pain of losing a sister (and she was to so many of us), there is a shock of losing someone we see so often, so suddenly. As we prayed Morning Prayer today, which for the Feast of St. Agnes, fit so perfectly for thoughts of my heart and soul, I could feel the emotions of my sisters all pushed into one small Chapel. There was an emptiness of undescribable capacity. I admit to wiping my cheeks a few times as father "cheered on" the life of the 12-year old Agnes and the 80-year old, Sister Marie Albert. Indeed, both lived lives of saints. 

     As such a little sister I have become, one of my greatest fears have also came into fruition. That fear was emulated yesterday and even still into today. It is the fear of losing my sisters. Being so young, I know the possibility is great and yet, I still never expect to lose someone so close to my heart. I may not have told my deepest secrets to Sister, but I shared time, space and beautiful words with her. I cannot help but have beautiful fond memories of her, as she was a big sister, I so often looked up to. Sometimes, it's tough being a little sister.

     However, I know my big sisters are grieving with me and perhaps are still in shock. But what St. Agnes reminded us all today is that we need to rejoice. "Rejoice with me, and be glad, for I have taken my place with all the saints in the kingdom of the light," our morning prayer said. I felt peace. I still felt a loss, but I felt a peace, that for sure she is in Heaven kicking it back with God. I saw the faces of my sisters but I saw their hearts, as well. I think we might all just need one big group hug so we can embrace all the emotions flowing through us. Just as I know they will be there for me, I will also be there for them. My hands may be little, but they are hands that can hold and love. 

     It is hard to lose someone so dear. And yet, there is or will be a peace that comes when we can rest assured, she is with Him whom she loved with her whole heart. Yes, she is in Heaven now, for sure.

A Reason to be here...

          For the first time in over three months, I went back to my home Parish for Mass. Out of the three times I’ve been home from school, I haven’t gone to Mass at my Parish; I’ve gone with the sisters. Even when I’m home during breaks, I don’t go to my own Parish for a plethora of reasons. The main reason is that I find I can’t focus when I’m home. Between sitting with my little sisters and giggling through the whole Mass to seeing the large amount of parishioners that literally line up to talk to me about a various list of topics stemming from school, to discernment, to Scripture. Gee whiz, I’m flattered really, but I need to focus on my Jesus. Another reason is that sometimes going to my home Parish is too painful for various reasons, and instead of being reminded of those memories, I prefer to church hop. But alas, today there was not nearly enough energy in my system to church hop and I had already spent two full days with the sisters (not that either party would have minded…just my family), and I found myself sitting in a side pew, trying my hardest to be incognito about being home.

            As I knelt there, I attempted to focus but I was once again too distracted by the sea of familiar faces and the sometimes painful memories. In desperation, I merely said, “Jesus, why am I here. Give me a reason to be here.” Now I must tell you, it’s not a secret that my Boyfriend loves me, but sometimes He likes to teach me patience. Today, however, He delivered ASAP.

            If you’ve ever spoken with a Vocation Director, he or she may have told you to pay close attention to the Scriptures because that is Jesus’ love letter to us. Some days I find it easy to listen intently to Scripture but I often have those mornings where I’m still half asleep when I’m at Mass. Today, thank goodness, I was wide awake, or I would have missed JC’s message to me.

            First, the first reading was from the book of Wisdom. One line in particular spoke to me saying, “Those who wait for her at dawn will not be disappointed.” I felt as if Scripture was talking about me. You see, as a college student, it’s not normal to get up at the crack of dawn when classes don’t start for another two, sometimes three hours. Yet, the dawn is my time with JC. I’ve always loved sunrises and JC sure does paint a beautiful picture for me every morning. For He who waits for me every morning at dawn, I will not disappoint.

            Second, for the first time, I heard the new assistant priest give a homily. At first I was confused because I had never seen him before. Ever. But my little sis insisted he had been there a while. And so, after the initial confusion, I sat intently and tried to listen as closely as possible. However, my little sis, like me, sometimes doesn’t know when to stop talking and so, we had our own conversation. Suddenly, she stopped dead in the middle of a sentence to say, “Becky, did you hear that?” and before I could ask what she was talking about, I heard it: “…Holy Family of Nazareth.” I was literally blown away. You see, not only was the Homily (I soon learned) about the love of the Holy Family of Nazareth, the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth is one of the few communities I’ve explored in my discernment, but they are also the community I was “raised” by and within which I find so many of my best friends.

            And so, in response to my, “Jesus, give me a reason o be here,” He answered, “…Holy Family of Nazareth.” Perhaps it was nothing short of a sign from JC to set me in the right direction. Or maybe it was the sign that I needed to LOVE even more and in that LOVE be open to GOD’s plan for me, not my own plan. Regardless, I’m still head over heels in love with my Jesus. He has truly captured my heart and I am His.