Sure, Knock Your Socks Off - Peruvian Adventure Part Two

"I can understand these people better, now I know."

 - Brooks Jenkins, "Loneliness"

     We thought the saying was long gone, and so did the sisters here in Peru. But then Madrecita said it. It must be a Nebraska thing we all said and she laughed. Knock your socks off, a phrase that was once so common and has seemingly passed to the wayside has become our new catch phrase. Can we do this? Sure, knock your socks off. Can we do that? Sure, knock your socks off. Can we eat this? Sure, knock your socks off. Needless to say, my socks have been knocked off quite a lot. 

     I know from all the pictures it seems that there is all fun and no work. Well, let me be frank: when you love what you do, it cannot nearly be considered work. The truth is, the sisters have been trying to hard to give us a Peruvian Culture crash course in the past few days. We were only in school two days last week since we arrived in the middle of the week, and our schedule has been crazy ever since. However, we are not aware of our schedules until the moment before something is about to happen. We got home early? Okay, let us do this and this and this and maybe that, too. We have been working super hard in the school as teachers, but we have also been experiencing everything under the sun. DISCLAIMER: I do not usually take pictures at work ;)

     On Saturday, we attended what we in the states would call a Carnival. In Peru, it is called a Kermesse. There were rides and food and lots of entertainment. The Kermesse was not just any old carnival though, it was a fundraiser for another IHM School. So, our being there benefitted the school. We were able to grab a bite of a Bembos Burger (since it WAS Memorial Day weekend) and walk around the grounds of the Villa Maria school. In the background were picturesque mountains piled high. It was like walking in a dream. 

     That night, when we got back from the Kermesse, we had plenty of time to knock our socks off. So, we headed into town to Santa Rosa of Lima and the Lord of the Miracles. We took a new bus which, of course yielded tons of new adventures. I love riding the bus with Sister Regina, a woman of exploration, because she truly has so much knowledge about the world of Peru. She always has a story to tell and I quite honestly, absolutely, positively LOVE it. The Shrine of St. Rose of Lima was simply beautiful. There is a tradition based on the story that she locked a belt around her waist and then through the key in the well so no one could ever open it. This tradition is that pilgrims from all over come and throw their wishes or prayer intentions in the well. Of course, we did it. We also had the chance to pray in the church (after Mass was over and we were done getting reprimanded by the Spanish Dominicans....). Immediately, when I knelt down on the wooden kneelers (no comforting pillows or anything, just wood), I was brought to tears. St Rose had touched my heart in such a way that I cannot even explain. I was still praying when the other girls and Sister left the Chapel and apparently, according to Sister, I was praying my little heart out. Down the block, we also we able to visit the Lord of the Miracles. I am not too familiar with the story but apparently it is an image of Jesus that has never been able to be knocked down. Quite impressive if you ask me! Our Saturday was packed full of adventure and I am so very, very blessed!

     The next day, we headed to Mass down the street in the ovulo. The ovulo is like those pain in the butt jug handles or circles they have in New Jersey, but instead of just being road, there are so many stores and parks and everything under the sun in the ovulo. Our ovulo has a church which is very simple and yet beautiful. Everything was in Spanish (shocker) but the music truly warmed my heart. I think that is what I miss the most about being here; being able to sing along to the music. After Mass, we had a light breakfast and then headed out the door to Montenegro. Once again, we found ourselves at something like a Carnival. It was not as big as a Kermesse and was called Bingo. It reminded me of an Ice Cream Social and Basket Auction. There were three other students and two sisters from IU, including my dear Sister Cathy, staying in Montenegro doing some nursing work. They had been testing the students for malnutrition and what a culture shock they had each experienced. It was so good to see familiar American faces running toward us across the patio. There, we were able to help with the Tombola and the selling of Hot Dogs, Aqua and Chorizos. In the Tombola, we had a crash course in Spanish numbers. Yeah, that was a bit confusing. Then, when selling the food and drinks, we had to be able to not only understand the Spanish but to be good in Math, too. After about five minutes, we had the hang of things and quite honestly, it has been one of my favorite memories so far. 

     Montenegro is so deeply a part of my heart. The amount of obvious poverty is astounding and if it had not been for my previous experiences in working with the poor, I, too, would have experienced the culture shock my peers were experiencing. The people of that city, if you could call it that, are so gentle, simple and kind. Regardless of my lack of Spanish, they accepted me and loved me. Children I would say hola to would simply run into my arms for a hug and a kiss. Mothers and Fathers would smile and try to have a conversation with me. And the sisters, they were so happy. Being in Montenegro reiterated two things greatly in my heart: first, that I am meant to work with the poor and second, that true happiness is not in the amount of things you have but rather the amount of love which you give. I felt the happiest simply sitting with my friends in Montenegro helping at the Bingo than anywhere else that far. I know I am meant to work with the poor. 

     Monday we were headed back to Colegio San Antonio to get back in the classrooms. Two days in this week and I feel at home, with the sisters, the faculty and the students. Especially the students. We had more introductory classes yesterday since I meant some new students but today I did some teaching and I was happier than ever. It was another reiteration that I am meant to be a high school teacher. My girls are so good to me and I feel so blessed to teach them and laugh with them. Every morning I am greeted with hugs and kisses as per the culture down here and I would not trade it for the world. Tomorrow, my teacher has asked me to read to the girls so that they can hear the correct pronounciation of English words. I am so glad professor Mooney prepared me so well in my Literature class with Edgar Allan Poe, because I am reading to them The Fall of the House of Usher. What I have seen with the girls, and all the students really, is that they are eager to learn. I love their energy; it truly invigorates me. They speak English so well, some of them, while others struggle. However, I love my job here. It is so freeing and beautiful.

     In a lot of my personal reflections, I have thought about my duty to serve the poor and my fulfillment of Gods mission for me. There are a few things that are confirmations to me that I am exactly where I need to be at this present moment in time: snow (which we will never see here), sunflowers (which I am seeing constantly) and the Infant of Prague (which Sister Antonietta and I spoke about so wonderfully tonight). I have been recieving so many confirmations from God that right now, I am meant to be in Peru working with the people here, teaching them English. I am reminded every day of my blessings and the gifts I have been given. This place is changing me, as they promised it would. It is not changing me in a way in which I am different, but rather that I am being stretched. I am being stretched to see how much I truly believe God is loving through me. If I could sum up my experiences so far it would be to say: this is what happens when one truly, whole-heartedly and unreservedly gives herself to God - she experiences a peace of mind and heart like never before. And that, my friends, is what I am experiencing: a whole new peace. 

     One final aspect of this experience that I must elaborate on is living in community with the sisters. While I have done this many times before, I have never done so for such a long period of time. Already I believe the sisters know me. I have gotten to know each of the sisters in a different aspect. Sister Regina shares her stories simply on the bus. Sister Lisa and I share the Mass together. Sister Eileen stopped me in the kitchenette today just to tell me how obvious it is that I know Gods hand is in every aspect of my life and that she is always praying for me. Sister Antonietta shares my devotion to the Infant. Sister Angélica shares my gift for laughter. Sister Marie shares my deep devotion to loving the poor. And Sister Nelida, well she shares our youth. Getting to know the sisters has been such an experience. Just a little sidenote, not one of them, unless someone told them, knows that I am discerning a vocation to religious life. However, I think they are catching on to my secret. Sister Antonietta asked me after I mentioned that the Infant of Prague is the patron of those discerning vocations, and I said, well maybe, sister. Of course, soon after Sister Eileen caught me in the kitchenette and was telling me how much she is praying for me, because what I want to do is harder now than it was in her youth. Did she overhear me say something to Sister Antonietta, I do not know. But I have been told that even if I never utter a word about it, it is so obvious that my only desire is to do Gods will and love Him whole-heartedly for the rest of my life. And while I could easily do that as a married woman, I know that He is asking a little bit more of me. Let us see, if by the end of the month, they know. 

Adios y Via Con Dios

"Senor, me has mirado a los ojos,

sonriendo has dicho mi nombre,

el la arena he dejado mi barca,

junto a ti, buscare otro mars."

- Cesareo Gabarain, "Pescador de Hombres"

     Typically, when a college student has the "retired dean" as her teacher, she would be nervous and perhaps very wary on taking the class. Me, however? I was ecstatic. While Sister Elaine and I go as far back as my Freshmen year as "Tuesday Pew Buddies," our relationship was merely that. The only interaction that entailed was a secret handshake at the sign of peace that varied weekly. She was the academic dean of the undergraduate students. So, if you saw her, you were probably in trouble. But last semester, she had found herself out from her office and back in the classroom. Poor girl had to deal with me and five of my friends as her only students in her Ancient and Medieval Literature. As quickly as she went from dean to teacher, she went from teacher to mentor. Sister Elaine, in a few short weeks, became well....like a sister to me. 

     I remember it clear as day: yet another MyIU email sent out to cloud every IU student's inbox. Usually, I would read the subject box and if it didn't apply to me, I'd delete it. But this one was different. I opened it and read, realizing it was the trip I so badly wanted to go on: Peru IHM Mission Experience. And who was running to show but Sister Elaine. So, I expressed my desire to go to her but so much was on my plate that I didn't even get to think of what I was going to write for my application when I realized it was past the due date. That's when Sister pulled me aside and asked where my application was. Taking my chances, I asked for an infamous extension and it was granted. I emailed her my application over Thanksgiving and with much enthusiasm, she replied to tell me to start saving now. No one else had heard back. I thought I was dreaming. I said nothing to anyone about anything. It couldn't be true. There was no way I had been chosen as one of the four students to travel to Peru. A few days later, the official email went out and I found myself beginning a new journey. 

     Tonight, I sit here after having just gone to the movies (I'm a little reckless, I know!) and am thinking how blessed I am. Of course, I'm typing away hastily trying to shove the anxiety back down into my stomach. Writing distracts me. That's a secret you should all know by now. It's also what I do best! I still can't quite grasp the fact that tomorrow, I will be leaving my country for another. Not for vacation, not for tourism, but to maybe make a difference. I won't be staying for a week, or ten days, but a month. I won't be living in a hotel, a condo but a convent. I'll be wearing one of four pairs of pants, or maybe one of two pairs of shorts and one of the seven t-shirts I packed. I hope it doesn't rain because the one jacket I'm bringing, isn't water proof. Oh, and I know maybe a few phrases in Spanish. Good thing I'll be teaching English! This may be one of the most spontaneous and nerve-wrecking things I have ever done but it's a beginning to a future I have always desired. 

     I live for those spur of the moment moments where there is little planning and I can fit all I need for this spontaneity in one bag. Well, I have two this time, but that's okay. I desire that simplicity of a world traveling missionary. I want nothing more to travel the world lending my heart and hands to those in need. And here I am, one year after my first international trip to Jamaica, the night before I leave for Peru. I am excited and nervous and anxious all in one, as any of you could imagine. I don't know a soul down in Peru, I don't know much about anything for this trip. All I know, is that I am exactly where God wants me at this moment in time. I know that God is going to take care of me no matter what and I know that this is all part of His most beautiful plan for my life. 

      As I travel tomorrow, I'll be simple. A pair of shoes, jeans, a shirt and a sweater. I'll be wearing an eight dollar watch, a simple silver band on my left ring finger, and my curly hair will most likely be wild and crazy; there's no taming it. I'll be wearing a smile and carrying in my heart all who I leave behind. But most importantly, my sisters and my parents. While this is something I have always desired, this will be a true test and taste of what the rest of my life will be like. Can my parents and sisters let me go? Can they stand not being able to talk to me? Will they be okay? ..... Will I be okay being so far away and so out of touch? People have told me I am fearless. I have no fear of people or what people could do. I seemingly am not afraid to reach out and touch a stranger, or do something so crazy (like leave for a month). But the truth is, I have one fear in this life long mission of mine: can my heart stand being so far away from those I love?

      So to all of you, who are excited and worried and just as anxious as I am for my mission trip, please know that I love you. I love you so much, that the very thought of being so far away from you all, fills my heart with some sort of anguish. But in saying that, I carry you all with me in my heart. I can sleep tonight with no worries because all of you are praying for me, more than I think I can even fathom. I will let my excitement run my dreams tonight. I'm not quite sure what kind of technology I will be blessed with down in Peru. If I could, I'd go without it but I know my parents and many of you will be worrying. So, look for a message here and there from the good ole Peru. I can't thank you enough, especially all my church ladies (and gents) who gave me my final blessing this morning at Mass, for all the prayers and support not only for now and this little journey of mine, but throughout my entire discernment journey. I am so blessed to have such beautiful people in my life. Of course, I kind of owe this all to my dear monjita, Sister Elaine. Thanks, girl. Don't worry, I'll give you EVERY DETAIL about this journey! And so, Adios y via con dios, mis amors. I can't wait to meet and love so many new monjitas and ninos. Te amo!

A Daily Cheerful Invitation - What Mass is like for me!

"Every morning is a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, 

and I may say, innocence."

- Henry David Thoreau

What my morning looked like today!

     I'm sitting in the hard, wooded pew sandwiched between my dear Sister Cathy (she's steady been my pew partner for three years now) and the pillar (God thinks this is funny because there is no way for me to escape). My knee is throbbing and for some reason so is my elbow. It's a bit chilly in Chapel this morning, and my continuous thought process goes like this: "It's cold. My knee hurts. I'm so tired. Bed. I want my bed. I'm getting the chills. My bed is so warm. I would love to have Mass in bed..." and so on and so forth. My eye lids are drooping when all of a sudden, I can feel the Sun warm on my face. I look up and I can't help but smile, for the Sun is directly shining on me through the beautiful stained glass windows. Everything I had just been mentally complaining about doesn't matter. I feel loved. 

     To put this in "real life" perspective, let's say as a married person, you wake up feeling miserable. All you want is to stay in bed, cuddle up next to your beloved, and go back to sleep, nice and warm. However, you have to get up for work, your beloved is no where to be seen, and you know you can't stay in bed sleeping all day. So, as you begin to drag yourself out of the bed, your beloved surprises you with your morning coffee, perfectly brewed, made just the way you like it with the perfect amount of sugar and creamer in it. With a kiss, he suggests you go out onto the porch to watch the sunrise before the kids get up. You feel loved.

      Or if you're not married, it's as if you are walking through the halls, holding your head down, because you have a test next period and you forget to study. You know you're going to fail because you simply do not understand how to balance those Chemistry equations. Not only that, you forgot your lunch on the bus and you were really excited for that Peanut Butter/Banana sandwich you had packed. Life seems to stink and all you want is a hug. Then, suddenly, someone yells down the hallway: "Hey! Hey you! Yeah you. You're beautiful. Come into my arms. It's free hugs day and I have a hug with your name on it." Slightly weird, but perfect. It's exactly what you need. You feel loved.

      Whenever something really tiny and is, to most people, insignificant, happens, like the simply Sun shining through the window, I feel loved. Because it's those little, tiny moments that seem to me being God whispering over and over in my ear, "I love you. I love you. I love you." And most times, those moments happen when I really need them. Now, as if the Sun warming my face during Mass wasn't enough, I soon after heard the angelic voices of my Sisters surrounding me as they sang. While I love to sing, I love closing my eyes, opening my ears, and smiling, as I just listen to their voices. As a musician, I'm blessed with the ability to listen to group of singers and pick out whose voice is whose and then to listen to them collectively again. I'm blessed to be surrounded literally, in my pew, by some of my favorite voices. Today, our song was both in Spanish and English, and so, of course, I was listening  for one voice in particular. One day, I'm convinced she will notice me leaning toward her just to hear her better (and if she reads this, she'll know my secret...). Today, I couldn't help myself. Not only does she have a beautiful voice, but she has such a wonderful pronunciation of Spanish because she's fluent. With the Sun on my face, and her angelic voice singing to my soul, I felt like I was in Heaven. I literally felt so loved.

       The mornings are my favorite part of any day. I love to watch the Sunrise, to listen to the birds singing, I love hearing the gentle wind blowing through the trees. Sometimes in the morning, when I'm really feeling loved, I'm tempted to dance around back campus like Maria in The Sound of Music. But my favorite part of the mornings, is when I get to go to Mass with my Sisters. Because of my crazy schedule, I don't get to go to Mass with them as much as I would like, and like I said in my post about Teresa of Avila, it takes a toll on my Spiritual Life. When I am with them in Mass, I feel so enriched, so alive, so awake and so loved. Thoreau, one of my all time favorite authors, said in Walden, "Every morning is a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity and I may say, innocence. The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour. Morning is when I am awake and there is a dawn in me. To be awake is to be alive." I couldn't have said it better myself. How Thoreau put it is exactly how I feel. Being with the Sisters gives me an aliveness I can only experience with them. I am so happy and joyous in both my heart and soul, and really I can't stop smiling. Mass, for me, is a cheerful invitation given to me by both God and by each of my smiling sisters, to join them in a life of simplicity and innocence. And what I would give to be able to join them fully in that lifestyle now. But, I know patience is a virtue and I must wait for God. However, as long as I have those mornings with them, where the Sun shines straight to me and my Sisters are beautifully singing, praising God, I will be alive. I will be alive and awake. And I will keep saying yes to their daily cheerful invitation. 

Las Manos De Monja

"Hold my hand. I promise I'll do all I can. 

Things will get better if you just hold my hand.

Nothing came come between us if you just hold my hand."

- Akon & Michael Jackson, Hold My Hand

Archbishop Chaput with Students of the New Cristo Rey School in Philadelphia.
Disclaimer: Photo is from Chaput's Facebook page.

    It's always been a dream of mine to be fluent in at least one other language aside from English. When I was younger, my idol was Celine Dion and since she was French Canadian, my dream became to learn French. After studying French for four years in high school, I stopped studying it. However, I use my French more now that I'm not studying it, than I did while studying it. Just last night I was having a conversation with one of the Jamaican boys in French. While I love the French language, I realized that it's not very widely spoken here in the United States, and so, when I got to college, I decided to try Spanish. I fell in love with the language. It fell into place with my other dreams of teaching in inner city schools and poverished areas of our country. Did you know that according to the last US Census, 35 million people ages 5 and older spoke Spanish in their homes? That's a pretty huge amount. So, I tweaked my dream of learning a different language; Spanish now, instead of French. Even last year, I toyed around with picking up a minor of Spanish for the Teaching Profession. However, my credits didn't allow room for another minor. But my dream of learning Spanish is still very prominent in my heart. My day at the new Cristo Rey High School in Philadelphia solidified that dream for me.

    It was an experience quite unexpected. I knew nothing about the new opening of Cristo Rey except that it was in the process of being opened. Suddenly, I was asked, along with a few of my peers, to travel to North Philly to sing for the opening Mass. When I first heard the music, I was ecstatic. Not only were we singing a few songs in Spanish, but also Swahili. If you know me, you know me, the thing that most easily warms my heart is African music with drums and the beautiful African voices! As we sang it, I was reminded of Sunday Mass in Jamaica and I almost cried for the beauty of it. The sea of diversity in the congregation between the students, the family, the faculty and those whose passion in life is Cristo Rey was even more beautiful! I was in awe of the whole Mass and could not swipe the smile off my face. It was totally God's Divine Providence that brought me there because during the intercessions (which were spoken in a few different languages), I realized that THIS is the teaching job I had always dreamed of. So, maybe God wants me to head there post graduation. We will see where God points me.

      However, this leads me back to "las manos de monja." The night before Cristo Rey, I got an email from one of the sisters telling me I had the hands of a nun (all because I made her guacamole). I laughed and laughed a much needed laugh. I have the hands of a nun?! I thought. So, in my prayer at Cristo Rey, I reflected on what that really means. I know I want to be what I call "Flufftastic" when I become a sister (which really means being huggable and giving the best hugs). But hands? When I look at my hands now, I see slightly callused hands, bitten down fingernails and cuticles from bad nervous habits, and a ring from my grandma. My hands are tiny hands, just barely bigger than my little sister's hands. And what have my hands done? These hands have built houses, fed children, changed diapers, written letters, made guacamole, blew kisses, colored, done homework, and most importantly, have held other hands. I am a hand holder and a hugger; human touch is important to me. A child knows he or she is loved when a parent gives a hug. A teenager knows he or she is loved when someone holds his or her hand. A husband or wife knows they are loved by the touch of his or her spouse. An elderly knows the love through a hand to hold as well. So many hands my hands have held. But what makes my hands different from anyone else's?

      My hands will teach, not only by the words I will type on the computer, or write on the blackboard (they better still have those when I'm a teacher...not kidding), or the encouragements I write or papers, but by example, too. I know my hands are willing to touch the hands of the stickiest child in the orphanage, or the rough hands of the student touched by violence, or the aged hands of the my elderly sisters, or the hands of those who have suffered greatly. My hands will build not only houses, but homes and love. But most importantly, I want my hands to never grow old, so that I can continue holding the hands of all peoples just like the hands of those who built Cristo Rey. 

      I was so blessed to be touched by those at Cristo Rey and I am so blessed to know that I, too, have that potential. I hope I never lose "mis manos de monja!"