A blog sharing the journey of a young woman discerning her role in the world as a contemporary Catholic. Here she tells numerous stories of service, prayer, struggle, nuns, her students and her family. Each day is a beautiful one and why not spread the goodness?
while you are burdened, but as a matter of equality,
your abundance at the present time should supply there needs
so their abundance may also supply your needs. "
- 2 Cor 8:13-14
The JusticeWorx Team with Bill and Addie Likens
It's been one busy month since I've last blogged. Between the end of the school year, Graduation festivities for my students and my Sister, conferences and planning trips and meetings, I've barely had enough time to enjoy the Summer sun and the backyard pool. However, Monday allowed me to sleep in a little bit, go to 8:00 am Mass, come home and make breakfast for me and my Sisters, and hang out after unpacking from my most recent adventure. Summer is finally here, people, and I can finally "relax."
Last week was the last "official" school-related event for the school year. Yes, I know classes have been over since the first week in June, but still, there were conferences and service trips to be run. This past service trip was to Dunlow, West Virginia, where Bill and Addie run the town. As a part of JusticeWorx Camp, an event run by the Center for Faith Justice in new Jersey, we drove ten mini vans down to the bottom of West Virginia. It took us nine hours and three stops to get there. After our long drive up, down and around the mountain range, we pulled into the stone parking lot of the Dunlow Community Center where we unpacked and set up shop. My girls spread out cots and sleeping bags in every which direction upstairs and I took shelter in a little side room with two other chaperones. There were 20 girls and 28 boys from a brother school in New Jersey (don't worry they stayed somewhere else!). What an adventure it already seemed to be. I could hardly wait for the week.
We spent the week in prayer and service in love of the Lord. Ten service groups broke up to go different places including refurbishing a shed into a home for a woman who had been beaten almost to the point of death over a quad and was now living in her parents' backyard because no assisted living was available in the area, putting in brand new windows for a man with MS who had been a huge part of the community for years, shopping, organizing and running the monthly food pantry and clothing donation give away during which we fed 141 families from all over the area (up to 2.5 hours away) and redoing a floor in Miss Mary's bedroom and hallway because her original floor was giving in. We also helped paint and clean up the community center toward the end of the week. My students were faced with my challenges all of which they accepted and accomplished. I watched my students learn how to respectfully speak with people who spoke a different type of English, organize fruits, veggies and foods in so many different ways, utilize teamwork, use power tools and of course, serve the dear neighbor living in rural poverty.
My students also were given opportunities to explore various types of justice according to the Seven Themes of Catholic Social Teaching. We explored environmental justice, economic justice and so much more. We talked about poverty in urban and rural settings, our carbon footprint, what we could do to change it. We also experienced many different ways to pray. It was a beautiful experience for so many of them and I know we will be coming back, for sure, next year.
Often, I see things through the eyes of justice. Fairness and Justice are two different things and so may say, "well that's not fair," but for me, I see things by saying, "that's unjust." Poverty is awful and I think often of all the places I've been so privileged to go because I was financially able. I was able to go to a place, serve and then go home, back to the comfort of my own financial status. One thing I heard so often through the week was, "I'm out of my comfort zone." While that's so good for people, I often wonder how much it sticks when we go back to the comfort zone. I've never felt hunger because I didn't know where my next meal was coming from. I'm willing to bet neither have most of my students. Yet, we were working with people who may not know that. Considering that the nearest store was 45 minutes away, people might not be able to afford getting to the store, either. I saw a lot of injustice in the world last week and I felt so blessed to have experienced that.
I teach Catholic Social Teaching at my school and I love it. I love Theology but my favorite thing to teach is ethics. It makes people think about the rights and the wrongs of society. One of the first things my students were told when we arrived in WV was that each day they would be allowed 4 minute showers each. That's it. When they started grumbling, I spoke up and said, "I take about a five minute shower every other day before school. I can still function as a human being. You can do it, too." I believe in practicing what I preach. Like I've said, I have never felt the pinch. But that doesn't mean I can't live in solidarity with the people I serve. So, as much as I teach I try to practice. It's not always easy, but it's certainly possible. I challenge my kids to do the same.
What they all saw this week was everything I teach in reality. Everything I tell them about, yes, it really exists. But the most important part the realized was the importance of my first lesson every time I start a new class - the importance of names and stories. People. We are so far away from the poverty and the injustice of society because we fail to recognize that it's OTHER people involved. My students even commented on this many times. I challenged them to get to know as many names and stories as possible. And they certainly rose to the occasion. They sat with so many people at the food pantry, they sat with the owners of the houses on which we worked and they sat with one another. It was beautiful to see God's work at hand.
I was sitting in my pew on Sunday, the day after we drove nine hours home in perpetual pouring rain and storms, and thinking about the past week. I heard the above Scripture quotation and took it as a little nod from God - you done good, kid. But not me, my students. They gave from what they had and allowed the poor to become friends with them. I saw so many beautiful things and it was mind-blowing. I told my kids every day how proud I was of them. When I heard that verse, I thought, and this is why I do the things I do. It's in Scripture, number one, but it's God calling me onto holiness through solidarity with my brothers and sisters. Blessed are the poor in spirit...blessed are the West Virginians.
Easter Monday, at approximately 5:45am, I, along with another faculty member from my school and ten students, loaded up a spaceship-like van and headed to Chicago for the first (of many) Alternate Spring Break Trip. We adventured for quite a number of hours and finally made it after determining that Indiana has the worst rest stops. Indiana Rest Stops with nuns at them, however, are not as bad. What seemed like a week of adventure already was just getting started.
My students and I did a plethora of things around Chicago. We visited with Feed My Starving Children, a manual manna pack factory; visited with the elderly at Nazarethville and gave them a spa day; helped a local school start boxing up for the end of the school year and so much more. We dedicated our days wholly the service at hand and the girls did anything that was asked of them. Seeing one of our most commonly used phrases, "Serve the dear neighbor," in action was absolutely amazing. I saw so many smiles and heard moments of happiness as I sat back and watched the most amazing events take place.
In addition to doing service, my students were so blessed to visit with various communities of Sisters in the Chicago area, including the Carmelites. We prayed with the Sisters and played (Rock Band, Apples to Apples, etc.) with them. We listened to their vocation stories over dinner, breakfast and sometimes even lunch. We spent so much time with nuns. For me, this is normal, but none of my students had even stayed in a convent before, so this "nun-dom" was a whole new revenue for them. It was amazing to see what was happening inside so many hearts.
For me, going back to Chicago, a place where so many of my beloved Sisters live, was a whole new experience. I had only gone to Chicago on my own for discernment. The amount of night before we left when I would wake from panic were too numerous to count. I was nervous to be running my first but also so nervous to be bringing my students in my Sisters' house. It wasn't so much the fact that the SISTERS knew so much about me but rather that my students have never seen me in full nun-mode. Of course, despite the panic, I was so excited to be back with my Sisters.
My nights were longer than my students. I would request they get to bed and then I would spend the next hour or so catching up with one of the Sisters. They so gloriously accommodated my busy schedule. Whenever we could fit in a moment or two, they were ready. And every night I went to bed feeling so incredibly blessed. It wasn't only the Sisters that gave me that sense but also being with my students.
Every night we spent some time reflecting on our rose, buds and thorns of the day. The good, the bad and the hope for tomorrow. I was astounded at the wisdom of these girls and what was happening in their hearts. Every morning we would hold hands and pray together in a circle around the statue of Mother Foundress in the lobby. We would pray for our intentions of the day then pray our school prayer together before asking "Our Lady of the Highway/Walkway" to be with us. Every morning a few sisters would join in the circle. At night, a few Sisters would join our reflections and recreation. We became such a part of their lives and they became a huge part of ours. Each morning I felt more and more blessed as our list of intentions got longer and longer. The girls found so many little things to pray for and met so many people
Of course, being with the Sisters pulled my heart in so many directions to God. I cried way too many times about so many things. Many were happy tears, some were confused tears, and even some were tears of the pain that comes with leaving. I knew at every moment that being a Campus Minister as my full time job is exactly what I need to be and what I love so much. Being there with my awesome group of students and my good faculty friend made me excited to come back to school. I feel like I fell even more with my job. I felt that no matter what might try to get me down, I would be on top because this is truly the Lord's work. I felt high on the life God gave me.
This trip changed my life in so many ways. My faith in God's plan for me was renewed by my students' witnesses. My heart was so happy being simply in the presence of my dear friends, the Sisters. My heart was solely satisfied by the fact that we were doing the work of God. What we had experienced was a small slice of Heaven and the students knew it. I knew it. I overwhelmingly knew it.
At 6:30 in the morning, right before we piled in the van for our journey home, we joined hands with the Sisters and prayer in our circle. As we spoke the words, I choked up. I felt so much sadness leaving a place that I will always consider home. I was sad to be leaving the Sisters who will always playfully tease me about my hair being a mop or my "quiet" personality. I was sad to be leaving the hugs and love my Sisters had for my students. People always joke at the end of a good thing like this: well, back to reality. Well, how blessed am I that this is my reality?! So blessed.
It has been over a month since I've written, and while some bloggers might apologize to their followers, I have to apologize to myself. Writing is often a form of prayer, a form of thanksgiving for blessings received, and I haven't stopped for a month to write. Of course, I know how long it's been since I've written because technology tells me. But what technology can't tell me is how long it's been since I've gone to daily Mass with the Sisters or how long it's been since I've prayed Morning Prayer with them. All I know is that my heart says it's been too long.
I told my students the Friday before I left that I had been waiting months to leave for Peru. In fact, my count down app told me that it was 74 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes the day I bought my ticket. It was so close but it wasn't close enough. However, to be completely honest, my job had me so busy that I really didn't have time to count down day by day. Occasionally, I would check the app and get giddy at the shortened length of time I had to wait. I got more and more excited as the days passed. Suddenly, it was the last day I needed to wait. I found myself telling story after story to my students. I found myself counting down the hours before I could leave the parking lot. I finished packing when I got home and started my adventure by going to the Mass for Our Lady of Guadalupe in Spanish. There was no better way to begin.
As I walked through the security at the airport after having checked my bags, reality began to hit me. In a few hours, I would be on a plane destined for my favorite country in the world in which lived a plethora of my favorite people. I sat in the airport waiting and waiting. I was surrounded by people who were waiting. All of us were waiting for something: to go home, to see loved ones, for a plane to arrive, for lunch to be served, for a business deal to be made, for a phone call, for a birthday wish. Waiting is always something that permeates airports and it was definitely permeating my heart. However, while I thought I was waiting for the plane to arrive to take me to Peru, there was a different waiting hiding in the deep crevices of my heart.
There is so much that happened on my adventure to Peru. I offered so many hours of service to various schools, I spent time with my dear Sisters, I met the families of some of the Sisters at the Christmas Gathering, I went shopping with a new friend, I attended the graduation of my CSA Students, I took a bus and got a little lost in a city I have loved for so long, I convent-hopped like a champ, I did so much more. But I also had many conversations with my Sisters, I joined them for daily Mass, I joined them for prayers, I walked arm in arm with them, I walked hand in hand with them, I held their hands during the Padre Nuestra, I celebrated life with them and I discerned with them. I served right next to them. I was a part of their love, their service, their lives. I was home.
Life has taken a road of different scenery in these past months. Now, don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful scenery, something familiar, yet untouched for so many years. Yes, I've ventured out and experienced a lot of things different than what I have been used to. Yes, it's been worth the journey. But there always has seemed like there was something missing. The literal scenery changed when I got to Peru, but suddenly, I was back with my Sisters. I had been away from them for so long and finally, I was back, I was home. There was nothing more than that that I needed. Even if days were short and I did nothing more than go to Mass, pray, eat lunch with them, that was all I needed. My heart had been waiting the simplicity of their lives.
While so much had happened on my trip, there are two experiences that will always remain with me. Number one: my Montenegro adventure. There really are not enough words to describe the love that permeates the streets there. I got on an unfamiliar bus, rode to a place I had only visited twice, and walked the streets as if I had lived there for years. When my feet hit the dirt roads, there was something so overtly wonderful about the place. I looked to the hills and felt love. Sister George told me to go find my heart, the heart which I had left in Peru. I find it, Sister. I found it once again. But unfortunately, I left it there again. Between the bilingual conversations, my appreciation for the silence in my heart, and seeing the beautiful children at the posada, I couldn't have been happier. But I think the happiness was also present in the small convent community room while enjoying popcorn and homemade hot chocolate while watching CNN with the Sisters. It was present in the extra blanket left on my bed because it got chilly. It was present in the little chapel on the second floor with a beautiful view of a lit village on the hill. It was present in the front rose garden with it's freshly cut grass. It was present in the causa for lunch. I was happy there. My heart was so happy.
When I left Montenegro, there was a sadness in my heart. I was very quiet on the way back to Miraflores (and no, not just because Spanish was the main language in the care that day). I watched the hills fade behind me. I was still so filled with happiness, not just from my visit there, but from my time spent in all of Peru with so many of my Sisters. Before I knew it, I found myself in a little chapel I had never visited before - the one at Villa Maria, Miraflores. Sister Liz, my dear friend, ushered me to the chapel, just as she had many times before. I sat in the Chapel and within seconds, I had tears streaming down my cheeks. All my fears, my happiness, my doubts, my worries, my signs and confirmations came swelling out of my heart at once. I spoke right to Jesus...and even though it's been a while, He still listened. Suddenly, Sister Liz was back and with a gentle arm around my shoulders, she held me close like the big sister she is. She took me to the tabernacle, but my hands on the door, put hers on top of mine and prayed as so many of the others had - for my discernment. Of course, I didn't stop crying.
We went from there to Mass in the church down the street. I was sandwiched between two of my Sisters who graciously held my hands during the Padre Nuestra. I was exactly where I was meant to be because it was there that I had realized what I had been waiting for: God's confirmation. I hadn't prayed with my Sisters in such a long time...I was back where I was meant to be. It was the most perfect place to be. I had felt a change in heart, a change in scenery, back to the familiar and the amazing.
I still had two nights in Peru at that point and those next two nights were the perfect nights. They involved pj parties with the nuns over two great movies, more prayer, more discernment in the day to day life. It was a busy time for me to visit because it was Christmas and the closing of the school year. At the airport before I left, one of the Sisters said she was sorry she couldn't have spent more time with me because it was such a busy time. I had no idea what she was talking about. I came not asking to be entertained, but to serve where God needed me to serve and to share the life of my Sisters for the week. What I needed was a week of prayer with my Sisters. What my heart had been waiting for was those simple moments of small conversations, daily hugs and kisses, the knowledge of permeating love. There was nothing more that I could have asked for. Those small moments with each of my Sisters were what my heart needed - a reminder of what I have been called to do.
I didn't cry when I said my good-byes, I cried when I woke up and saw the most beautiful sunrise from the window seat 25F. I cried then because I realized how much love I had just left behind. I had left my heart in Peru again. In fact, I think it has a permanent spot there with my Sisters. I cried because of how much God had spoke to my little heart in such little time. It was simply amazing how wonderfully blessed I felt. The reverse culture shock, that is, the shock of not having five beautiful women of God right next door or down the hallway, was the hardest adjustment. Even now, I am suffering from the reality that they are not with me. Yet, I know they are always in my heart. I love them each so much, more than can ever imagine, and I am grateful for the prayerful week they gave me.
In all my waiting, I felt a small solidarity with Mary and Joseph who had awaited the birth of their Son for so long. However, the difference was that they were blessed with the birth of a baby. Me on the other hand, experienced a re-birth of God in my soul, happiness in my heart and knowledge of the future. I could not thank my Sisters enough for being the pathway through which God reach me. It was a long awaited God wink and it only took me 9 days in a country, almost 4000 miles away, for me to realize that not only had God always been there, but that I needed a re-birth. And now, to live for Jesus with this renewed spirit of mine.
To all of my Sisters in Peru, thank you for the gift of your hugs, kisses, time and words. I could not possibly thank you enough for all the love you showed me this past week. It was a perfect discernment week in a perfect place with some perfect people. I love you each so much, and yes, I already miss you. Feliz Navidad y Prospero Ano Nuevo.
"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.
Yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good.
Yours are the hands with which He is to bless all now."
- St. Teresa of Avila
Well here I am, a few days after my return back to the United States, and I still can't shake the brokenheartedness of having to leave behind so many people I love. For the past three days, I've woken up and expected to look out my window at the children of Villa Maria, La Planicie going to school. I wake up expecting that my being home in the US is actually a dream. Now don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my country of the red, white and blue, and I most certainly love my hometown of little old Croydon, but two weeks most certainly was not a long enough time in Peru. Heck, even a month last year wasn't enough. I'm not quite sure what it is about that country, but I have a love for it like no other. But I'm not going to complain about being in the wrong country anymore. Instead, I'll share with you, my experience.
For the past few months, the Sisters have been asking me if I was counting down. I said yes, but not to what they had been suggesting. Of course, being it my Senior year, they wanted to know if I was counting down to graduation. OF COURSE NOT, I would exclaim, because truly the very thought or suggestion of having to leave the noble hill was cause for a small, but rather intense emotional breakdown which included lots of sobs and snotty tissues. Okay, maybe not that drastic, but you get the point. However, I would continue, I am counting down to May 21. Many wondered why that date and not graduation, but, of course, they understood my desire for not wanting to leave the great EEEE-MOCK-UUUU-LAAAA-TAAA. So when I finally explained that May 21 would be the date of my departure to Peru, the understanding came with a sigh and a, "oh, of course, your home." How did they ever know?!
The day of graduation came and as you know, there was so much beauty from God in that weekend. However, as soon as the ceremony was over, I could not help but count down the days til we left for Peru. At that point it was three days. The excitement was building and so was the anxiety of packing. If it wasn't for Theresa texting me every half hour on Monday worrying about packing, I wouldn't have packed until Tuesday night. But thank God for friends. By Monday night, I was ready, emotionally, physically and mentally, to get on a plane and go home. But alas, God was working on my patience and so, I waited.
Wednesday morning, I headed to morning Mass at St. K's at 6:30. As I was kneeling there, praying my little heart out, as Sister "Mom" Regina would say, I happened to look up to see a familiar IHM veil. All throughout Mass, however, I could not for the life of me, figure out which nun was in front of me. So after Mass, I happened to bump into S. Anne Mark, IHM. I asked her if she knew the lady in blue and alas, she did not. So we did what any two curious characters would do and went to say hello. Suddenly, I knew exactly who she was: S. Agnes from none other than PERU. I asked her when she was going home and when she said, "in a few hours" I could hardly contain my excitement. How ironic that the two of us would be traveling to Peru on the same day?!
Within the next few hours, I was dropping Lizzie off at school and getting my traveling blessing from Sisters Jeanne and Catherine Danielle. Before I knew it, we were at the airport, anxiously awaiting the arrival of all the members in our group before we headed off. After many hours of pre-travel pictures and finally traveling, we landed in Callou, Peru, at about 11:30 their time. The night drive from the airport to our home for the next two weeks seemed like a dream. I was having a hard time believing that I was back in the country I had fallen in love with exactly a year ago to date. Yet, there I was, staring out the window at some of the most beautiful sights in the world...well, at least, to me. The strong smell of diesel exhaust was welcoming and the "almost dying by car accident" heart palpitations were exactly what I had been missing for the past year. Oh those sights, sounds (insert Oxford comma here) and smells were a joyous serenade of "Welcome Home." That night, I fell asleep feeling like the happiest girl alive.
The next day we had our full tour of Villa Maria, La Planicie. Of course, before that I went to Mass with the Sisters and half of the Confirmation class. After Mass, I not only bumped into my dear Sister Marie who was there for a visit but we also went to the May Procession for the escuelita school. If only I could put into words how stinkin' precious those little ones were with their flowers for Mary, their rosaries and their smiles of pure joy. During our day we met the faculty of VM and also got our "assignments" for the next few days. Originally we had all planned to be helping out in the escualita (literally "the little school" for the poorer children. Here the students receive breakfast and lunch as part of their school. Many are children of the people who work in the richer homes in the area as maids, cooks and landscaping aids.), however, four of us soon found out that we would be giving faith witness talks to the Confirmation class (Juniors in High School).
Speaking in front of a group of people, especially students, never ever once phased me. In fact, it has always been like second nature. I never get nervous to the same extent I do when I'm performing. Nope. Never. But as Sister Cathy says, it's okay to have butterflies, so long as they are all in the right row. And so, I couldn't have been happier than when I was standing in front of all those beautiful, young, impressionable faces as I shared my faith story. I decided to go along with how one must be a Best Friend with God (that's a WHOLE other blog post) and immediately, I saw how the students were amazed that one could actually be best friends, let alone friends, with God. Once again, I was confirmed in my vocation to be a teacher. All my life I have wanted to teach, to blow students' minds with the awesomeness of God. Giving my faith witness allowed me to do just that.
For the first day, we thought we would only be talking to the fourth year class. However, during our time, we wound up speaking to 16 classes of young women in both the Villa Maria school and Colegio San Antonio. Believe it or not, that's a lot of young women. And not only did Theresa and I speak to all those classes, but they also asked the two of us to speak about our relationship with Mary, BVM, at the Villa Maria May Procession. Every day, through our talks, through my own and the others', I was spiritually fulfilled. Sharing faith with each other is so incredibly important and I have always been so reaffirmed. Talk about real life missionary work.
Faith sharing while probably took up the most time during our mission, was not the only thing we did while in Peru. One very special place we visited was Dr. Tony's. We went our first Saturday morning in Peru, before the big Kermesse (carnival-type celebration) at Villa Maria. After about an hour drive in the very small fifteen passenger van, we arrived at the home for children. This was not an orphanage, but rather a home for children who have had various surgeries. These children come from the poor mountain regions and Dr. Tony, a doctor from the United States, oversees their surgeries which include but are not limited to cleft palate, leg surgeries, cerebral palsy therapy and surgeries to help burn victims. Although the doctor was not in for the day, we saw the entire facility and were able to spend a few hours with the children. While I enjoyed being out on the patio watching the boys with crutches play soccer as if they had no disability, my favorite part was visiting the nursery. Some have said that I speak baby-I understand those who cannot speak better than those who can. One little girl in particular was suffering from cerebral palsy and could not really move her muscles. A few of the girls went over to her crib to say hello, but when they walked away, she started crying. So I went over and gently rubbed her little arms and legs. Immediately, she looked up at me with her beautiful, big, brown eyes and stopped crying. I spoke to her softly but as I was walking away, she began to cry again. So, I went back to rubbing her little arms and legs again for about ten minutes. She was so content, that when I left again, she was okay.
Another favorite moment was when I caught Sister Annette enjoying a few minutes with a little boy on the couch. He had pulled her packet of kleenex from her purse and then proceeded to pull them all out of the packet. I was laughing so hard that she invited me over to sit with him. She eventually got up, but left us with the tissues. I wasn't sure what to do with them, so we started counting. Then he ripped one in half and thought it was hilarious, so, of course, I did, too. Eventually, he got bored with me and ran off to play with his tissues alone. Looking back, however, I realize the simplicity of the moment - like a bored little kid in church, entertained by a pack of tissues. Who would have thought?
Saturday and Sunday were filled with exciting Kermesses and Bingos at Villa Maria and Fe Y Alegria N 37, Montenegro. Both of these days, it seemed to be a nun convention. I was so eternally grateful for these days because not only was I able to see the other four Immaculata girls who had arrived a week prior at EIC, but also all my beautiful nun friends. I could not have cared less about what was going on around me because there were too many Sisters with whom I needed to catch up. And catch up I did, especially with my EIC girls. Of course, I also met a few new Sisters, like Sister Anne. My initiation into her friendship came in twofold. First, on Saturday, she told me that her relative sister, who had been a teacher in my high school, had told her all about her. I told her the reverse was the same. For three years we had known about each other, but we had finally just met. The second part of the initiation came when at the BINGO in Montenegro, she asked me to accompany her to the market down the street. You see, we were in need of some hotdog skewers. So, we left the confines of the school and began our journey to the open market on the streets of Montenegro. Honestly, I couldn't have been happier. Not only did we chat a bit, but I also got to experience real life in Montenegro; a life I've been wanting (since experiencing it last year) to experience much longer than a day or two. That moment will forever be etched in my mind as one of the most memorable of my trip this time around.
The following week was filled with many faith witness talks, a visit to my "old stomping grounds" at Colegio San Antonio (which meant a HUGE reunion with my students, mis hermanitas, from last year and LOTS OF TEARS at our bittersweet parting), and a journey to Our Lady of Joy and Francisco Coll in Ate Vitarte. Our Lady of Joy is a home for adults who have a physical disability. It is absolutely beautiful, with physical therapy options and get this, handicap accessible bathrooms and rooms. Trust me when I say that this is a rarity in Peru. This place not only allows these beautiful people a chance to live life to the fullest despite their physical disability, but it also allows them the means to eventually be independent, that is, not dependent on their families. Many of these people were forced to believe that their physical disability was a curse from God, but now, as some told us, they can see the beauty of it. Our time spent there was beautiful.
At Francisco Coll the first day, we met Maria who showed us what she wanted us to do for the next day. It involved lots of paint and a pretty big wall. The next day we found ourselves sizing up a wall for a mural. Within a matter of minutes, I was covered in paint (shocking, I know). My job for the rest of the day was the mix the paint as Benito showed me. Good thing I remembered all those things about the color wheel from Kindergarten. Shout out to Miss O'Neil for teaching me all she knew about colors. We covered the wall in an array of handprints as butterflies, flowers and even tree leaves. The best part about this day was watching both Sister Annette and Sister Mary literally get their hands dirty as we painted their hands so that they could put their handprints on the walls. The mural turned out wickedly beautiful.
Our next weekend was spent well...doing touristy type stuff like shopping, walking through LarcoMar for ice cream, going to Mass, visiting central Lima, etc. My favorite part of the weekend, well there's two: first, it was seeing three of my lovely ladies in blue in the market from a mile away and then running at them to give them hugs. I had thought the last time I was going to see them was the previous Monday. Well, God had something else in store. My second favorite moment: getting to go back to Santa Rosa, my favorite church spot in all of Lima (and I've been to quite a few). I love St. Rose's story, even if it contained a hermitage smaller than my playhouse Barbie house, or trying her hair to keep herself awake. She was a beautiful woman of God.
Our final two days in Peru were spent in my favorite places: Montenegro and EIC. Montenegro is my favorite school for one simple reason: the simple joy emulated by the children of all ages there. Of course, there was a perk that I got to see my temporary spiritual director, Sister Liz. After the children welcomed us to Peru, they had recess. While most of the girls challenged the high school boys to a basketball game, a few of us stayed on the patio to play with the little ones. I have never seen or heard such joy from having an impromptu photo shoot. You see, I wanted to snap a few photos of the children. This small desire turned into the little ones modeling and me calling them Senor and Senorita. I have so many pictures of the girls and boys' faces smiling and jumping and screaming and laughing. Who know how awesome the words "mirame" and "sonria" really were?! At one point, after getting a tour of the school and singing and praying with the fourth year students and Sister Cathy, we climbed the infamous green stairs to the top of one of the mountains in Montenegro. The sight was breathtaking. I truly cannot put it into words. And the chapel for the school literally brought tears to my eyes, because as Sister Annette said, "Just as the IHMs started in a little hut in Monroe, this chapel started as a hut in Montenegro.
Our final stop on the tour of Fe Y Alegria N 37, Montenegro, was the convent. I'm not sure what it was, maybe the sunflowers all over the room, maybe the little Chapel that had a window which looked directly out to the streets, or maybe the simple beauty of the building, but when I got to the rooftop, tears started streaming down my face. I wasn't sad, no, that wasn't quite it, but rather happy, so very, very, very happy. When she noticed, Sister Cathy kind of put her arm around me in an awkward side hug and said, "It's okay to cry, you know. It's okay to be a hot mess, here." I smiled and I knew she was right. Here was a place where I felt my heart yearning to stay...for a very long time. But as all good things do, our visit came to an abrupt end and I felt a piece of my heart break off to stay there "siempre."
The next day, our last day in Peru, we found ourselves in Miraflores, my literal "old stomping ground." We paid a visit to Villa Maria lower and then, walked the way to EIC, which had been my home for a month last summer. I couldn't thank God for the opportunity to spend my last hours in Peru with the Sisters I had began to call family. I felt like a welcomed home little sis as I laughed and hugged and spoke with my dear Sisters. Once a month calls helped relieve the pain of being separated for a year but nothing could quite compare to literal hugs from them. Just like "old times" Sister Eileen was challenging me to grammar wars over flat adverbs and Sister Marie and I did a good amount of faith sharing in a matter of minutes. Of course, selfies with Sister "Mom" Regina were also in store as well as a full commentary on the dances and music the boys performed by Sister Antonieta. And, I finally got my hug from Sister Anjelica, my hashtag girl. I was so eternally grateful for those few hours with the girls and the rejoicing that came after I opened my present, revealing the sign from God I had been waiting for, for two weeks. When we had to pile into, for the last time, the van, I waved at my Sisters waving back at me and could not control the silent tears that fell down my face. I felt like a little kid being separated from her family. And again, a piece of my heart was left there, as well.
Before we knew it, we were back at La Pla to finish packing and cleaning up our spaces before dinner and then before heading out the airport to begin the journey home. There's so much more to this story of my Aventura Peruana take two like climbing the Andes Mountains, hearing stories of cougars, bobcats, scorpions and rice from Sister Annette, birthday celebrations and even a flood and an earthquake. But alas, I'm so emotionally spent by writing this blog post, that I simply cannot write anymore. I promise though, to myself especially, that I will write more about my Aventura Peruana because I need to. I need to write about what happened to my heart and soul while in Peru. I need to write about my experience, but until the next blogpost, I'll keep imagining myself walking down the streets of my favorite country. And of course, praying for all of the beautiful people I met along the way. Oh and I must not forget to thank all of you who traveled prayerfully with me during my journey. Keep those prayers coming, my friends, because I know it was through your intercessions that God was so incredibly good and revealing to me. VIVIR LA VIDA!
"And when He had given thanks, He broke it and said,
'This is My body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of Me.'"
- 1 Corinthians 11:24
Jesus and John, the Beloved Disciple at the Last Supper
Last week in my Sacraments class, we began our discussion on the Sacrament of Eucharist. May 6th, 2000 at St. Thomas Aquinas Parish in Croydon, PA at 11:00 AM on a Saturday, I made my First Communion. I was wearing a beautiful white dress that I had worn a few months prior at my Uncle Charles and Aunt Maryanne's Wedding as their flower girl. I had annoying, lace, ankle socks and an obnoxious headband from which extended my veil. I couldn't wait to get the outfit off and run around in the mud with my cousins at my family party later that afternoon. However, at the moment right before Communion, I suddenly got the jitters; I was so nervous. This was the moment that would change my life forever. As I received the Eucharist on my tongue for the very first time, I instantly felt like Jesus, Himself, was hugging me so tightly to Himself that I became one with Him. Littler did I know that my Theology was kind of right. At Eucharist, Jesus' body becomes one with our body and soul. The image of hugging Jesus at Communion has always stayed with me.
In class, we watched a video on Eucharist with a song playing in the background. Despite being such a musical learner, I have no idea what the song was or what it was about. I was captured by the video of a few actors acting as Jesus and the Apostles at the Last Supper. I was so struck by the continuous action between Jesus and John, the beloved disciple. During the video, John had his head resting on the shoulder of Jesus while Jesus went about the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup. John never once lifted his head off Jesus' shoulder. I was so moved by it and then suddenly, I started laughing.
The weekend before, while in Minnesota, I confessed my need for napping to Sister Angela. I say to people that I am a serious napper. No one actually believes me until they see what happens when Becca doesn't get her nap. Sister Angela thought I was just kidding, but as we were sitting in the MSP airport waiting for the plane back to Chicago, I was sitting in the chair when suddenly my head dropped. Her gentle nunny hand picked up my chin and pushed my head gently to her shoulder. I snuggled there, sleeping, until they called for us to board the plane. Ironically enough, I fell asleep on the plane and the same thing happened.
As I watched the video in class, I couldn't help but remember the gentle simplicity of being able to sleep on another's shoulder. Even deeper than that is when one can cry on another's shoulder. Something I also spontaneously did to Sister Angela when we had to say goodbye. Poor girl. Just as Sister Angela did for me, Jesus did for John. He comforted him in the eventual separation of life and death. He comforted his tears when Jesus said his last words. It was beautiful. But what struck me the most, after all of this was the words "Do this in memory of me?" What exactly did Jesus mean? What is the "this" to which he is referring? Suddenly, my mind was spinning. I just needed to put it in words!
First, Jesus is allowing beloved John to snuggle up to Him at a time when Jesus is already suffering His eventual arrest and death. Jesus, while feeling so sad within His own heart, is not only breaking the bread for those around Him but also letting John use His shoulder for comfort. John most likely was feeling pain and sadness, too, and so Jesus allowed John to seek comfort during His own suffering. He sacrificed His own feelings so that John could be comforted.
Even deeper than that is what Jesus was doing at the Last Supper. He was giving up Himself for the sake of others' salvation. "Do THIS is memory of me," He says. Do THIS...the THIS meaning the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup. However, in John 6, Jesus says this, "I am the BREAD of HEAVEN." He is demonstrating the breaking of the bread, the breaking of Himself and the sharing of His blood in the cup. "Do THIS," He says. On the surface He means, do this, do this breaking of the bread, in memory of me. We celebrate the Last Supper every time we celebrate the Eucharist. Deep right? Well, it goes even deeper.
The THIS Jesus is doing is the THIS of the breaking of His body, His offering up of Himself. He asks each of us to do the THIS He does; to offer ourselves for the greater good of the Kingdom of God. He may not be asking us to be martyrs for the faith as He was, but He is asking us to sacrifice for others that which we hold most dear. Every time we hear these words, we are called by JESUS HIMSELF to do the THIS He did, in memory of Him. We are called to sacrifice for others, to give to others as He gave to the apostles, as He gave to John. True sacrifice is giving all out of love. Jesus gave up His own emotional state to comfort John and the apostles both at the Last Supper and in the Garden. Jesus gave up His own body to be broken just like the bread at the Last Supper, on Good Friday. Jesus gave up His life for us. That is the THIS in "do THIS in memory of me."
How perfect that I came to this realization of the THIS I need to do during Lent, a time of true sacrifice of self for others. Once again, I've fallen in love with the Eucharist and all it means for me. I am continuously developing a deeper devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, a devotion that has been with me all my life (Thanks, Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament). I am always growing more and more in love with the REAL PRESENCE of Jesus in the Eucharist and all His beautiful words to me through the Mass and through Scripture. Now, every time I hear these words: "Do THIS in memory of me," I will remember truly what Jesus is asking of me. I must be the crying shoulder, I must be the comfort in the suffering, I must give of myself. Of course, I must also be grateful to those who have comforted me, who have given of themselves to help me, and who have given me a shoulder upon which I can rest and cry. There are many Jesus' to my John in the sense of literary metaphors.
On Friday night my Dad called me.The conversation went a little like this: Dad: "Where are you?" Me: "Oh you know, driving through Kensington." Dad: "WHY are you in Kensington? Who are you with?" Me: "My friends, Sister and Father. We're just living it up on Spring Break." Dad: "Okay, not but really, why are you in Kensington." Me: "Dad, I told you, Spring Break." Dad: "Whatever, just be safe." Me: "Love you, DAD!" While my daddio seemed a little annoyed that I neglected to tell him I was doing a Spring Break Service Trip...in Kensington, but he got over it. I think he's starting to realize a common theme: whenever I do something seemingly dangerous, I don't tell him so he doesn't worry so much before I leave. Sorry, daddio.
Anyway, as you could gather, to start Spring Break (which began on Friday), I climbed into the school van with seven other students, Father Chris and Sister Cathy and headed to Kensington. I've come to the realization that one either knows exactly what Kensington is or they have no idea. For example, when I handed in the van sheet at the safety desk, the safety officers said, "Oh...be careful." When Father asked one of the students if they knew where Kensington was, she said, "What even is Kensington?" I've heard the stories, that Kensington has always been the forbidden place, as in, don't go there, it's trouble. It's always been the place where the sun doesn't shine and the birds don't sing. But, as you might have gathered from my life, not much bothers me, not much scares me. Why should I fear where Jesus walks?
Our first time driving down Kensington Avenue, we missed the turn and found a grammar error. Because we were under the El, the GPS couldn't get a signal. However, we turned ourselves around and finally found the white door to the Blessed Sarnelli House. Ed opened the door for us and up some super steep, unfinished steps we climbed. We dropped our stuff and immediately turned on the heat. When I say it was as cold inside as it was outside, I am not kidding. We even went exploring to the bathrooms which...had frozen water in the toilets! We decided that all the girlies were going to share one room. Sister got the front end with the view of the el and Father got shipped upstairs. Then we hurried over to the other house (where it was warm) to set up for dinner.
The home was a basic three floor row home. On the second floor was the kitchen, chapel and store room (oh yeah...and a bathroom). On the ground floor was the dining room (and another bathroom). When the time came, the members of the Kensington community who needed a meal came through the front door, were served a plate of yummy food (cooked by Ed) and invited to sit down at the tables we had just set up. It was really crowded at the very beginning and so a lot of us wound up standing around, talking to a few of the visitors. However, eventually, a few people began to leave, headed some place or another and there was an empty chair at a table with three people. I asked if I could join the table. David, Donna and Allen all said yes. I found myself right at home.
I used to feel extremely uncomfortable around the homeless. I had a perpetual feeling of guilt around them and I was never sure what to say or do. I also always wanted to cry. I would see these people on the streets while walking through Philly and I never had anything to give them, so I never made eye contact. I almost felt ashamed. I wanted to help but I was afraid I couldn't. Slowly, but surely, I begin, almost by forth, working with the homeless. It was part of our New Orleans trip, to work at the New Orleans Mission and serve dinner. After a few times, I realized, there's nothing less humane about these people. Friday night, I pulled up a chair, sat relaxed and laughed so hard with my three newest friends. Honestly, the stories we were telling were fantastic. I felt happy and at home. Not a place of home but a homey state of mind.
I decided to stay in my chair at the table in the corner by the front door. A few more times, I made a few more friends. Paul, who's cat obsession is almost as great as mine, and John, who is close to my age. A few other friends walked by, said hello, and kept walking, but these are the people I will remember forever. They were such beautiful people.
After serving dinner and cleaning up when all our friends left, we ourselves had dinner. It was a simple but good meal of noodles, veggies and turkey. The same dinner we had just served to the community. Mind-boggling, really, and eye-opening. We cleaned up after and didn't have too much to do, but we discovered that the reason our toilets had frozen water in them was due to our pipes freezing. That means, in our house, we didn't have any running water. Not bad right? Well, that means, no toilets, no hand washing, no teeth brushing, no water drinking, no face-washing, no nothing that involved water. Of course, we did have two bathrooms in the community house we could use, but that involved going outside in the cold and running next door. We decided to make two bathroom runs: one right before bed and one first thing in the morning. I've never appreciated water more.
We spent part of the night reflecting and then, just by casual conversation, I was asked to share my journey of discernment. I love all the girls I went to Kensington with and I honestly don't know what I will do when I don't get to see their lovely faces every day next year. They are always so honest with me and I love it. One of the girlies, Krystal, asked me about the nunny thing. She doesn't know how blessed I felt when she asked me to share my story. I needed that glimpse of hope and she gave it to me.
The next day was spent doing all kinds of clean up work around the house. We also took a tour of the Kensington area. The very long story short is that now in our beautiful group of volunteers, we had an electrician, shot put throwers, and dust nunnies. Our day of clean up involved some pretty crazy things but we had fun none the less. The thing about service is that no matter what, one's heart always seems to be opened in some capacity and there is a joy that slips in. There is always a way to make doing service enjoyable, whether it's making art out of broken items found on the site, being assaulted by nuns throwing things, relocating bricks, drilling holes in walls, or dusting so much dust we find dust nunnies. We had a great time in Kensington and I'm sad we couldn't stay another day.
This morning, I packed up the car and finally departed the noble hill for one last spring break. I cried a little because everytime I leave IU, I realize that one day I will leave and never come back as a student. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NUNNIES THAT MEANS I HAVE TO LEAVE BEHIND?! Sobbing! Anyway, I met my family at the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament Motherhouse for Feast Day Mass (Katharine Drexel's Feast Day is March 3). All the precious nunnies both SBS and IHM welcomed me home to Bucks County. Needless to say, I was a happy NIT. As Mass begin, I realized I recognized the Franciscan Priest who was saying Mass. Turns out, he's from Kensington and works at St. Francis Inn. And that my friends, is how God brings my life full circle. God came in like a lion this beginning of March just as He knew I needed. Father's homily was about young people living the vocation of service to others. That's how I felt in Kensington; this is my vocation, to serve the Christ in others. Father also mentioned that Service is the only thing Jesus calls great in the bible. Hm..sounds legit. Jesus was a man of service, wasn't he? I sat listening to the entire homily thinking, wow, how beautiful a confirmation that I am exactly who Jesus wants me to be.
I reflected a little later and realized how happy, truly happy, I was. I felt free. I felt such pure joy. And I felt like myself, who I truly am, including all sassiness. I had to laugh because people claim that they love who I am but so few have seen me in my real element. Sometimes it's a part of me that most people, even my closest friends, don't understand. I am guarded at times, but when I'm doing service work, I'm free. I FEEL LIKE I COULD SPREAD MY WINGS AND FLY! And when I let people see the real, true me, I feel even freer. I'm silly, I'm full of laughter and I love making other people happy. When people I love see that, I feel as if suddenly I've opened a whole new book in my life. And all that's written on those pages is this: Service, the greatest thing in the world. I agree with Jesus.
It was a bright and early Saturday morning in late August. Many new students had just moved in the day before and were still exhausted by the amount of activities from the previous night. Although it was 8:00 AM, a time that many new students would need to get used to come Monday morning, it was still a bit too early for most. I boarded a cheese-yellow school bus with a good number of my peers and took the seat behind the nun (shocker). I stared out the window as we drove to our destination. Finally, we arrived and what did I see but the name of the church which I would be cleaning: St. Katharine Drexel in Chester, PA. That was four years ago.
This past Saturday, the scene was very much the same. While I wasn't a new student this time, plenty of students in the class of 2017 boarded eleven different yellow school buses to head out to ten different parochial schools and one high school in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia to do various service projects. Of course, this time I didn't take the seat behind the nun. I have gained much confidence in the past three years. This time, I sat next to one. And while I wasn't headed to St. Katharine Drexel Church in Chester, Katie D was still following me. I found myself at Our Mother of Sorrows/St. Ignatius of Loyola School, part of which was (is?) run by the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament. That is, the Sisters founded by St. Katharine Drexel.There is nothing like my life of service at IU coming full circle.
I've been a part of the FYE (First Year Experience) program for all four years at IU. My first year, I was a student in the class, and after that, I've taken on the role as Mentor. Although this year I am not helping out with a class, I still have a nice mentoring job. It is appearing to be that while taking on this different role in the FYE program, I often get to stand in, which is what I was blessed enough to do on Saturday. My personal destination for Saturday's Service Project had been debated quite a few times, until finally I got placed at OMS/SIL. I wouldn't have had it any other way.
We arrived, after a nice hour long bus ride, with my personal seat next to Sister Elaine. Our group split up between weeding and outdoor work and inside, classroom cleaning. I found myself outside, on my hands and knees, yanking and pulling up weeds from between the bricks in the sidewalk with my new peers. There was quiet conversation amongst us for most of the first hour as many of us were still waking up. But sooner or later, our students started opening up and having true conversation. At one point, my new peers even convinced me that some weeds were poisonous. So, I pulled them up anyway. Good news: they weren't. We worked hard for a good 3.5 hours and were so spent by the time we got on the bus for the journey home.
The entire day, while it seems like it happened so quickly, was certainly a beautiful one for me. Of course, I couldn't get over how much Katie D had visited me just in those few hours. She was quoted all over the walls, present in the entire spirit of the school and definitely walking with me as I worked with my peers. There wasn't a moment I forgot God's presence throughout the day. Truly it was so beautiful and all day, I found such a reflective spirit in my heart. I remembered back to my Freshmen Service Project with Sister Cathy. I remembered so vividly how so convinced me to get on the shakiest and most unstable ladder ever in history just to clean around some candle light holders. I recalled the conversation on the bus that morning with her when I gave myself away by asking very "nunly questions." I remembered how my eyes almost filled with tears at the very mention of Katie D being the patron of the church. So many parallels.
There were no ladders, but there sure was lots of dirt and dust. I found myself conversing so easily with Sister Elaine on the bus to and fro (God bless that woman for having to deal with me), recalling so many parts of my own story. Of course, the moment I saw Katie D quoted on the wall, I cried. My tears fill up now as I remember all the good, so far back and so recent. There are just so many blessings that I have been given and I know it, oh how I know it. Where would I be without my God and the blessings He has bestowed on me?! Oh truly, where would I be.
At the end of the day, I can say I once again found myself doing something I so often enjoy: service to others. We were made to service each other, and we must all play our part. I can truly say that this service trip, though short, will remain as vivid a memory as so many. Of course, I blame one person for this, for always following and for always watching over me: Katie D.
No song this time, but rather, a video. As if I couldn't brag about my school anymore:
"I'll be your sun, I'll shine on you. I'll make you happy, I'll smile to you." - Nouf Alfadl
This is the first New Year's Eve I am away from home. I have always rung in the new year with close family and friends in either Pennsylvania or our neighboring New Jersey. I have always heard my daddy's voice at midnight! This year is different; I'm not only in a different state but also time zone! I'm in New Orleans, Louisiana.
Staying up til midnight here is equivalent to staying up til one am at home! Needless to say I was exhausted come midnight. However watching the fireworks surrounded with my IU peers was nothing short of beautiful! I am so used to sharing hugs and kisses and phone calls at midnight but instead here we decorated our IU work crew shirts and watched out our windows over the seventh ward! We shared hugs but it was interesting for all of us!! As I watched I noticed how quiet it got! All of us momentarily fell into some sort of reflection mode. Well at least I know I did and here's why:
I always get nostalgic on New Year's Eve! I think about the past and the future! I smile and get scared, too. I always cry without a doubt on New Year's Eve. It's a thing I guess. But as I watched the fireworks, I couldn't help but think of two people: my grandmother Bea and the Air Force gentlemen we met in the French Quarter!
The Air Force man was just casually getting sno-balls with his family when we walked up next to him! Of course, because I am my fathers daughter, I started talking to him! We talked about everything from him growing up in NOLA to sno-ball flavored to the new year to him being in the Air Force! Suddenly I found myself thanking him for serving our country because I am a patriot through and through! But before I knew it, he was buying our sno-balls as a thank you for our service to his beloved city even after so many years after Hurricane Katrina! I almost cried.
My grandmother, Bea, who I describe as a fiesty Irish woman, was with me from the very beginning of this trip but especially at Mass last night! You see the reading was essentially the Irish Blessing! May The Lord shine his face on you always! I love that so much and I couldn't help but believe Bea's face was shining on me in this beautiful city! I also couldn't help but imagine her being here with me doing the same thing right next to me! Maybe she would have...maybe not! All I know is that I share Bea's spirit as so many have told me! They tell me I am just as likely to get arrested for the same reasons she did...I'll leave that to your imagination! But I know Bea would love this city as much as I do!!
As I thought of Bea and Mr. Air Force, my New Years resolution was confirmed! My goal for the year is to go out of my comfort zone and take more positive risks!! Bea and Mr. Air Force emulate both of those things!!! I couldn't have felt more blessed as I did at midnight last night during my reflection under the fireworks!! You see, I am all about spreading the love and in order to spread the love, I have to exit the comfort zone!! And in spreading the love I know I may be so vulnerable because the heart is human and because it is human it is fragile! But like father said at mass last night, the adventure of life is faith! Both Bea and Mr. Air Force emulated that as well!
And so for me this new year, I'll be allowing myself to be vulnerable upon exiting the comfort zone and loving! I know I am in for a huge adventure because of my faith! My The Lord bless you and keep you, my friends! Cheers to 2013!!!
