Pajama Parties At Jesus' House

"You must have nice pjs if you wore them to Mass!"

- Sister Marcille

Taking my sleep seriously...of course.

    The older I get, the sleepier I get, and the more I love sleeping and being all snug and warm in my bed. Every chance I get, I am asleep in my bed and I even plan out a nap time for each day. And if I don't get a nap, I sure as the sun shines better get some coffee in my system. I will openly admit that when I don't get enough sleep, I can be a real grouch. Before college, I used to be able to stay up until at least 2, if not later, and still get up early, with only a few hours of sleep in my body and fully function properly. Now, I go to bed before even some of the nuns. That's a true fact. I've been working on really getting enough sleep so my body can work.  These week, however, I'm slackin' really hard. It's been a long trip on the struggle bus.

     This morning, I overslept way past my alarm. My nice little wake up warning goes off at six, then again a six fifteen, then again at six thirty and finally at six forty-five. I have recently realized that in order to maximize my sleep, I can literally shower and get ready in fifteen minutes and make it to prayers on time! Today....I got up at 7:18. Prayers begin at 7:10; Mass at 7:30. I had twelve minutes to get ready for Mass. Not that you really need to know, but I usually fall asleep in what normal college kids wear to class: sweats and t-shits and hoodies. If I didn't have any dignity, I would have strolled right over to Mass in my full set of pjs. However, I couldn't allow myself that embarrassment and put jeans on instead. Everything else I was wearing was what I slept in. I brushed my teeth and ran out the door. I made it to Mass two minutes beforehand.

     The sisters who sit in my pew and the surrounding pews are what I call my pew partners. I share my pew with Sister Cathy and a pole. So, there is really only way into the pew since we are blockaded in. I casually tapped her on the shoulder and she let me slide into our pew without highlighting my shame. However, we did laugh a little. How could you not? It was obvious, I was still on the struggle bus. I could barely keep my eyes open and I took my time standing up and sitting down. I felt like such a sloth or snail or turtle. 

     During the sign of peace, I was shaking my pew partners' hands and finally made it to Sister Elaine. As she shook my head she asked, "So, what time did you go to bed last night?" You see, our school play is this upcoming weekend (if you are close by, feel free to stop in!) and we had play practice last night. She had been there snapping shots for the bulletin board so she knew I was helping out with stage crew. I simply smiled and said, "I'm not telling you," and walked away. She shook her head, knowing that it must have been late. 

      It was later in the day, while I was simply sitting and chatting with my friends at the lunch table when from behind me, I saw a figure dressed in blue and white. Sister Elaine sat down next to me and all she said after she took her first bite of chili (we had the same lunch...twinning!) was "so really, what time?" I laughed and told her what happened. Practice let out about 11:30 and I finally got to bed around 1:30. "So that's why you strolled in really late in your pjs?!" Yep, exactly.

      After practice finished tonight (a little after midnight), I was talking with our theater director, Sister Marcille, about my morning. I simply casually mentioned strolling in wearing pjs and thought nothing of it. Half way through the story, she goes, "Wait. You must have some pretty nice pjs." After laughing, I told her it was actually socially acceptable by most of my pew partners. Ironically, they all just laugh at me. I can imagine them remembering their younger days when they wished they could come to Mass in their pajamas. Essentially, I do that. And here's my philosophy:

      I'm not there to impress anyone by what I'm wearing. Jesus is with me all the time and so He knows what I look like in my pajamas. As long as I am decently covered, I see no issue in having a morning pajama party at Jesus' house. So, I mentioned this to Sister Marcille and she agreed. She actually agreed that on Hurricane or Snow days, when no one is going anywhere, and no one is visiting during Mass (except me and trust me, I've been on enough discernment retreats to know that nuns wear pajamas....SHOCKER, I know), and no one is trying to impress anyone, we should all just wear pajamas. And so, maybe they should all invest in some nice, comfy yoga pants, some plain t-shirts, and bright yellow sweatshirts, and join me at the morning pajama parties at Jesus' house. There's one tomorrow morning....let's just hope I don't sleep past the alarm again!

Who's Your Mummy? - The Museum Field Trip

"What kind of girl does a Mummy take on a date?

Any girl he can dig up."

    I've always loved History. My Daddy grew up a history buff and thus, passed it down to me. When I was younger, we used to walk around Historical Philadelphia every weekend just for fun. We would go to Civil War Re-enactments and various other historical areas near by. However, while we both love history so much, there's different aspects of history that we know better. My Dad was always good for knowing dates and years, whereas for me, I like the quirky, little known facts about a historical period. For instance, did you know that during the Revolutionary War Period, prisoners were fed Lobsters instead of Bread and Water. Lucky guys. It's a mind-blowing experience when you can surprise people with these facts. 

    Anyway, so my love for History is huge. However, as I get older, I realize that really it's my love for American History. In recent years, I've had the wonderful opportunity to study ancient and medieval literature. And in order to understand the literature, you must understand the history and time period. I can honestly say, I didn't really appreciate it as much as US History. I realized, it's because it's too far away for me, it's too distant. For instance, I can go to Independence Hall, and know that once upon a time Ben Franklin and George Washington really stepped foot on those floors and sat in those chairs. But, I can't imagine walking in footsteps of Egyptian Kings, or Ancient Mayans, or even Julius Caesar. It was always difficult for me because I am such a hands-on learner. I could never touch places they have touched. However, that all changed the moment I laid down next to my good friend, Pum II.

     After the initial, "GAG! There's dead bodies in here," I started to really investigate on various levels. First, how is he still preserved so many years later? Second, I wonder what his family was like, and his daily life. Third, I wonder how tall he is? With that question, my friends suggested I find out. So, the easiest way to estimate was to lay down next to him and judge him according to my five foot tall height. We decided he's between 5'2 and 5'5, for the record. I think he was tiny! And it was definitely a man! So, maybe men were short then? In addition to all the Mummies (and Deadies...since Halloween was postponed in my town, I feel it's still appropriate for Halloween jokes) we also dived into the Ancient Iraq/Mesopotamia area where my Lit Class found a lot of symbols from our recent study of Gilgamesh (perhaps, my favorite Ancient Tale). We also did a quick visit of Ancient Greece and Rome (but since I've been there, done that in real life...I went to Maya instead.) In the Mayan exhibit, we college students became little kids once again by going on scavenger hunts and interacting with the hands-on learning kiosks. Not going to lie, it was great. It was after all of those mini adventures, that my professor, Sister Elaine, dragged me and my peers off to the Mummies. Actually, correction, it was after we saw the Monja Meurta in the Dios de los Muertos exhibit that she dragged us off. I guess it was a little disconcerting for her....as it was for me. And so there, my appreciation for all these areas of history was born. 

      Now, I can see a few of you reading this, and thinking, what on earth does this have to do with vocations? Well, here's the thing: First, my teacher is SISTER Elaine, beautiful and wonderfully sarcastic lady. Second, I really got to see her "eat up" all her favorite pieces of history. She has her degree in Ancient and Medieval Studies. This just goes to show that Sisters are real people, my friends. They may not end up in museums as mummies like the real people of Egypt, but they are real. They enjoy the same things that many of us enjoy. They enjoy "nerding out" to fun pieces of literature or history. They don't just have one, solitary, stereotypical interest in Religion. Yes, that's the basis of the interests, but they have other likes. Our field trip to the museum not only gave me an appreciation for other periods of history, but also for the realness of my professor. Especially, when our tour guide was telling us how people we embalmed, and we both happened to have "gag faces" on at the same time. Yeah, she's pretty legit.

 

Keep Calm and Call The Nuns

"I can't walk this road without you, you cannot go it alone.

We were never meant to make it on our own.

And when the load becomes too heavy and your feet are too tired to walk,

I'll carry you and we'll be carried on."

- "I'll Carry You", Rebecca St. James

   

     This is the most accurate description of my panic button. I'm feeling a little dreary in my spiritual life? Call the nuns. Don't know how to politely decline a marriage proposal? Call the nuns. Don't know what courses to take for next semester? Call the nuns. Need a smile? Call the nuns. Need a hug? Call the nuns. The fire alarm is going off at work and you don't know what to do? Call the nuns. Need some ice cream? Call the nuns. Can't figure out a math problem? Call the (right) nuns. Need anything? Call the nuns. You get the point.

     These past few days have been filled with me "calling the nuns." Ironically enough, I've only actually had to call the nuns once. All the other times I needed something, they were already there, waiting for me to ask! On Thursday, I once again spent the day at Nazareth for Pre-Student Teaching Observations. However, this week was a little different because it was All Saints' Day and we were blessed with the opportunity to go to Mass! I absolutely love going to Mass with my Naz girls; there is something so beautiful about going to it. My favorite part, however, was getting able to sit with my closest Nazareth Sister. Sister David was the first sister I ever told I was maybe, possibly, quietly thinking about religious life. Without screaming her head off in excitement, she quietly said, "Oh I know, dear. I've known all along." Weird. But accurately true. Whenever I needed any type of guidance in the "religious life" area, I'd call her. Thursday, I was calling on her to pray with me and warm my heart. She came when I called and I kept calm.

     However, the endless saga of my life with the nuns continues as I went back to work on Thursday night. There is never a dull moment in this "life with the nuns" and most nights than not, something really weird happens in the Portress Office. I used to think it was just me, but apparently it happens to the other portresses just not as often. In the Portress Office is a mailbox for every single sister who lives at the Motherhouse. However, if any sister gets a package, it kind of just chills on the desk or the floor depending on the size. You can guess what was in the portress office this time: A giant package for one of the littlest sisters there. Before anyone could suggest she "wheel it up on the cart" she was opening it. I watched as a "mother of many" as paper quickly filled the floor and sisters quickly filled the office. Before I knew it, the whole office was filled with all sorts of sisters. Whenever hype is happening, they flock and it made my night. As the unveiling of a perfect painting took place, sisters were oohing and ahhing at the excitement! Meanwhile, a few sisters were trying to figure out a math problem resulting in much laughter from everyone else and a smile from me. I needed a smile, so the sisters came when I called and I kept calm.

      Friday was an absolutely long day as I worked both with Sister Cathy and at the Motherhouse. Of course, working with Sister Cathy is always a joyous and adventurously fun time. However, the calling of "my nun" didn't come until Mass when we weren't actually working. Every Friday (for the most part) I go to work at 9:30am and then we go to Mass together at noon since she is Sacristan. Most times than not, I get to read! Since yesterday was All Souls' Day, there were two readings. However, if you ever took a look at the book, you'd realize that there are actually a few less than a million reading options for Mass. So, of course, when she asked me to read, I said sure. Then I saw the book. Guess who came to the rescue?! Yep, Sister Cathy. And of course, we had a fun time sticky noting the lectionary. I'm pretty sure we made the best reading duo the noon Mass had ever seen! Sister Cathy (in that moment and in so many more) came when I called, and I kept calm. 

       Finally at the Motherhouse last night, I was in need of some ice cream, some laughter, and a fire department. The ice cream came about 6:30 when the halls, phones and doors were silent. I was casually reading some Ancient Greek Drama (for class...) when my dear Annie Fran showed up. Within a few moments, she was forgetting why she even came to the portress office in the first place and was sitting, chatting with me, checking up on me. It was so lovely finally catching some ice cream with her! A few minutes after she left, the sister carrying laughter came. Of course, this sister and I go back before her pre-convent days and so, laughter comes easy with us. It had been a while but finally, we caught up. During her visit, not only did the fire alarm go off, but also some random cell phone in the office and the regular phone. So, while I was checking the book for the Maintenance Man's home phone number, Sister Melissa was answering the desk phone and I was simultaneously answering the cell phone (that really, I had no idea it existed until last night). It was mass havoc, and I didn't know really what to do. So, I really called Sister Marie and she helped me with the fire alarm dilemma. And thank God, Sister Melissa was there, else I'd have had to call for backup. But because I called the nuns,  and they answered, I kept calm. 

       You see, I'm convinced that the sisters know everything. Well, about me. And that's because they are my sisters. Whenever I am in doubt, or I need help, or just need a smile or a laugh, I can literally call them anytime and they will be there for me! I am so blessed to have such beautiful women in my life who are always more than willing to help me out! I'm blessed to have my sisters who take time out of their day simply to just check up on me and those sisters who take time out of their day to delve into those really deep heart to heart conversations I need to have every so often. I'm blessed for the sisters who pray with me, and who laugh with me. I'm blessed that know that "Stay Calm and Call the Nuns" is extremely accurate for my life!

         On one final note, while I'm thinking of getting this made into a poster to hang in my room, I'm also thinking of having one made that says, "Stay Calm and ask the Portress" to send to the poor lost Mercy Sisters I helped out today. Having come to campus for the monthly In-Search workshop, they wound up on the wrong side. So, I gave them a few directions and lots of love to In-Search! It was great! Sometimes, actually, all the time, we have to pass on the blessings we are given to others! So, when you need to Keep Calm...what do you do? 

      

Living With Nuns Perks - Hurricane Sandy

"When you're all alone in the night, 

and you're small and terribly frightened,

it's Sandy, Sandy who will always be there."

- "Sandy", Annie

     I'm pretty sure you've heard of her. She was a raging hurricane, full of emotions that one news station couldn't tie down. We all may be thanking God that she's gone now, but she left a line of destruction for us to never forget that she was here. She's the type that crashes a party like she owns the place, breaks all the boys' hearts, spills her soda all over the kitchen floor, and then leaves before she gets asked to clean it up. Of course, who could forget a party crasher like Sandy? And so, because of her wrath and destruction and damage, we are all going to have a story to tell about Sandy. Here's mine:

     They told me I was crazy for going back to school as Sandy was coming closer. By they, I mean, my Parish family. Yes, I did drive back to school as Sandy's rain started hitting the Northeast. I made it back inside my building right before it started down-pouring. I laughed as I walked to Mass in the rain later that night, but I knew the worst was yet to come. At Mass we had a total of (drumroll please...) 20 people even. It was clear that most students took the "school evacuation" seriously. Those who were left, the remnant, were the risk takers or the ones who would have been going into a more dangerous place if they left. And so, we few had "hunkered down" and prepared for the worst. 

      Thanks to a family party on Friday, there was plenty of food. My roommate essentially stockpiles in bottled water. She's also a cop, so I found her heavy duty "Sergeant Greenwood" flashlight. I had plenty of blankets if the heat shut off and most importantly, I had my "Ducky" umbrella, ready to fight the rain. I was hurricane ready! 

      Monday morning, before the worst of Sandy even hit, I had "waddled" to Mass in what the weather people were calling a squall. What adventure! Of course, "Ducky" didn't do too much other than keep my face dry. So, I squeaked into my pew with the sisters. I had a quick thought that, if we don't have school, why don't they all just wear their PJ's/comfy clothes to Mass. But then I thought of the Carmelites who wear their habits all the time, and never go out. I then understood. However, you could tell it was a "day off" but the lack of blazers and suit jackets, and the abundance of sweaters and sweater vests. It was precious. Some of the sisters were shocked to see me, while others just rolled their eyes knowing that I would be one to stay on campus during a raging hurricane. After Mass, however, is when every single sisters' motherly instincts kicked in. "Are you ready?" "Do you have enough water?" "How about food? Don't walk across campus to the cafe, you'll blow away." and so many other questions and phrases. I reassured my "mothers" that I was ready and even mentioned that I was worried about them, too. I would be more than willing to share a "Hurricane Campout/Party" with them. 

      The truth is, on my side of the building, I live with nine sisters. On my floor alone, there are three lovely ladies! One who is my best friend, one who thinks it's hilarious to scare the daylights out of me by sneaking up on me and one who is almost always persistent about "giving the students a break" every so often. Yep, it's a pretty happening floor. During the hurricane "evacuation" there were only a select few of us left on the floor, including our sister neighbors. In fact, it was eerily quiet. And so, even though I'm not one for liking a lot of noise, I had to turn the TV on because it was "too" quiet. All I could hear was the sound of rain, wind and squalls. As fearless as I am, I actually freaked out occasionally. While part of me wanted the power to go out, I actually was so grateful it didn't. That was until, the noise from the TV News Station stopped. Cable was out. Great. 

     Now let me just put this out there, I NEVER watch TV. Like, if I'm watching TV, it's most likely I'm just listening for noise when my roommate isn't here because it's too quiet. I really had no one to talk to, no one to listen to, nothing. It was actually pretty scary. So, after opening my window to smell the salty air and making dinner for my lone neighbor, I snuggled under my blankets and pretended no hurricane could get me under my blankets. Truth is, I really wanted my little sister here with me snuggling. If I had someone to protect, I could be brave. During the night, I had nightmares of trees falling through my windows and everywhere. By the next morning, however, the calm after the storm had come. That's when the stories started.

      Apparently, our other residence hall lost power really early in the night, around the same time we lost the cable. When I got back to my room after Mass, I had a knock on my door and one of my best friends barged in exclaiming how lucky I was. He asked if I had hot water that morning and I said yes. Apparently, his side of the building had no heat or hot water. I shrugged and offered my room as a hangout for him if he got too cold. By the early afternoon, cabin fever set it really bad and so another one of my best friends, Alice, and I went out to survey the damage to campus and take a walk. We wound up finding tons of branches, one fallen tree and a turkey vulture eating lunch. Ew. It was still misting outside and really cold, but we braved going over to the Motherhouse to check in on our sisters. During the story sharing, I realized, I am one lucky duck. While the rest of the students on campus are either in the dark, wet or cold, I am all the regular luxuries of life. Now don't get me wrong, I offered up my room as a safe haven, but no one took advantage. While we were trying to figure out how my side of the building got so lucky, I realized that this, my dear friends, was a perk of living with nuns. 

       There are many convent living perks but one that I never really delved into was what one sister said to me so long ago. She said, "One thing you can be promised is that God will always take care of you. When you live in the convent, you are taken so well care of." I truly didn't realize this truth til Sandy can blowing at my windows. Now don't get me wrong, I DO NOT live in the convent at school. But rather, the sisters live with us. And so, because they LIVE here, they must be taken care of. I just happened to benefit from that taking care of this week during Sandy's wrath. And so, while I am always grateful for the sisters and I really wish they all knew how much I truly love them, I was especially grateful for them unknowingly sharing their benefits of convent living with me. There truly are living with nuns perks. 

      And so, now that you have my Sandy Story, please, please, please continue to join me in praying for all those affected by Sandy's wrath. I have many friends who were affected greatly by the storm, my roommate is one of them. There was plenty of flooding and destruction, but my biggest fear right now is the amount of time before power is restored to our dear Camilla Hall. Thanks! Be safe in your post-Sandy adventures!

What Is Love? Perhaps Love Is...

"If I should live forever, 

my memories of Love will be

of you."

- "Perhaps Love", John Denver

     When someone tells you that they love you, how do you respond? Do you respond with "thank you?" Or maybe "I love you, too?" Or maybe, you don't respond? The other day I emailed in a panic, Sister Cathy. I said, "Sister, if someone writes me a beautiful love ballad, how do I respond? HELP!" Of course, being the beautiful conversationalist she is, she emailed, "When you come in tomorrow, we'll talk." Today was yesterday's tomorrow. 

     Of course, every conversation must start somewhere, and so I explained the situation. And how I thanked the young gentleman for all the beautiful and kind things he said about me. I also said how sometimes I have to watch when I say I love you to some people. Of course, that's when we started talking about what is love? I'm still thinking of it. I even asked my little sister for some help.

      Children, I am convinced, have all the answers. They always know what to say, when to say it and how to say it, and how to feel true emotion. I called my little Lizzie and upon the first ring, she answered. It was as if she was waiting for me to call. So I asked her a series of questions about love. She said "Love is caring, being nice to one another and helping one another." She knows when people are in love "when they are together and they hold hands." She knows that "God, Jesus and Mary love me. Mommy and Daddy love me. And my sisters, the IHM sisters and other sisters love me." Finally, she said, "They love me because I'm small and cute. Because they hug me and let me help them and they help me. They love me almost as much as I love them." Then she said, "Becky, I'm tired of all the questions. What's the answer?" I couldn't help but smile and laugh as I told her, "You are right." 

      The funny thing is she said nothing about saying "I love you." For her, love is shown by actions. And yet, those three words mean so much in English. Personally, I tell everyone I love them. And while so many people have issues with that, (because how can one truly love everyone??) I do it because it's true. I have found deep within me, a love for everyone. Sister Cathy told me that the young gentleman probably is in love with not just me, but the true goodness and kindness in me. And, of course, the true love that's in me from God. That's when I remember Sister Teri's definition of love. She said, "It's when the Christ in me recognizes the Christ in you." And it's so true. When I say "I love you" I imagine Christ using my voice to tell those I tell, that He loves them. I reflected on this a little during Mass and I realized that sometimes Christ picks people to spread love. I am one of those people, because I can give love so free and easily. 

      When I say "I love you" I mean it but I mean it in the purest sense of those words. In Italian, the phrase for I love you literally means "I want what's best for you." That's what I mean when I say I love you. I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I want what's best for my friends, for my family, for my sisters and for those I meet randomly, those who I don't really know, and those I minister to. And yet, I never realize that maybe to some of those young men I am friends with or I minister to, take my "I love you" as something more than emotional, more than me wanting what's best for them. They understand my "I love you" as a forever love in terms of significant others and husbands and wives. And while I cannot stop saying "I love you" because I cannot stop being who I am and who God needs me to be, I can use those moments of sincere love for those "teachable moments" and conversations like what I with Sister Cathy on what is love.

      So, while we're on the topic, what is love for me? What do I consider love? Love is not something that only a man and woman feel for each other. But rather, something that can be felt from anyone for anyone. And true love is this: the willingness to be selfless for the benefit of another. And so, when I say I love you, I mean that I would be willing to do anything for you, to be selfless. It's a love called Agapos in Greek. It's a love so beautifully emulated by Christ, He who literally died for us, for our benefit. I can only wish that everyone could understand this love, but because of our society, love is a word tossed around so frequently. I love you is said more times than it is meant. And unfortunately, love has been so downgraded in society that "we accept only the love we think we deserve" (perks of being a wallflower). What is love, really? In truth, what is it? If you look deep inside your heart and soul, you'll be able to find what true love is. And then, when you realize what it is, you will be able to give and receive it freely!

      And so, I love you, I truly, really do. "Some say love is everything" and that's me. And "Some say they don't know." That might be you. Discover it, find it, love it. And since I love languages and words and you know that so well, I say this to you "S'agapo, didasklos." I love you, teacher, the one who taught me to question my own views of love. And yet, Agapo, is selfless love. Don't forget it, I don't think I tell you enough! Now, for all those who are wondering.......take a listen:

 

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. 

God Alone Suffices - Teresa of Avila

"Let nothing disturb thee, 

Let nothing frighten you,

All things will pass.

God, alone, suffices."

- St. Teresa of Avila

    Isn't she beautiful? This is one of my most favorite pictures of Teresa, as she looks so young. I'd like to say that in this rendition, she's maybe in her early twenties. Like me. If someone ever asked me who is your favorite saint, hands down, I would answer: Teresa of Avila. She's a strong woman of God, unafraid to reform for His glory and she was a Carmelite (don't tell the other sisters, but they are my favorite!). 

     When I was younger, a priest always used to give his homilies on the lives of the saints. Forget about what the Gospel or the readings were, no matter what day it was, there was a story of a saint. Fascinated by this, I asked him why he only ever gave homilies on the saints. He answered, "When I was little, my father told me to study the saints. They became my friends. So, when I give homilies about them, it's like talking about my closest friends." I fell in love with that and soon after, I began to find my friends. Katherine Drexel was one of the first. Shortly after her, came Therese. But my best friend, I found in Teresa of Avila. I literally fell in love with these strong women of faith. They were the undercover feminists of their time, and I admire them for it! But Teresa, she's something else. She was the most outspoken woman of the church, I found. She was a mystic but also, she was a leader, fearless in her faith. She even said to God, "It's no wonder you have so few friends, if this is how you treat them." She considered Jesus her closest friend and lover, and I learned how to be a friend of Jesus through her. She was real with God, she was bold with God, and He loved her for it. She had spunk. Spunk that I wanted. And so, she easily became my friend; my best Heavenly friend.

     I always felt when I was younger, that I wanted a man to fall in love with me for my spunk, for my outgoing nature, and for my loud mouth. I also wanted him to respect me as a proud woman, because I am a proud woman. I also wanted him to fall in love with my sense of adventure and humor. The truth is, as I got to know Teresa more, I realized that we shared a lot of this in common. Then I realized, as I began to see God as lover and friend, that He fell in love with Teresa for all those reasons. That's when He told me how much He loved me. He asked me to marry Him. I got my childhood wish, that a man would fall in love with me because I'm out going, spunky, loud and proud. He fell in love with me for the same reasons He fell in love with Teresa. And that's why, I guess, we get along so well!!

     This morning, I got up and I boldly said to God, "I hate my 8 am classes. I can't make morning Mass with the sisters and it's really taking a toll on my Spiritual Life. I wish I could just...ugh... I hate 8 ams!" Of course, I laughed, because most people aren't that bold with God. But as our relationship goes, God was just as bold in His answer. He said, "Bec, my dear, be late." Since God knows me so well, He knows how much I hate being late. Being on time is late for me. And yet, He had the audacity to tell me to be late. Really? And so what did I do? I stayed for Mass. And it was so worth it. Not only did I get to pray with my sisters, but I got to celebrate my best friend's feast day with them! And it's a day I consider my own feast day because of my deep devotion to her. The readings were perfect! And I said to God that if Sister Regina plays my favorite composition of the Alleluia, I will know how much I am loved. Did she? Of course! 

      I know that today is a great day! The weather is beautiful, I was only two minutes late to class, it's Teresa's feast day,I have no homework due today, I get to paint tonight, and I've been getting to see so many of my favorite sisters. Yes, I've even run across campus a few times just for a great big hug from Sister George! Oh and I also got to talk to my High School principal this morning! Life is just great and I am truly feeling the love of God today! In my prayer today, I can't help but thank my best friend, Teresa, for knowing how to celebrate a feast day! When I look at her face, I see so much young wisdom, bold reformation, and true friendship with God. When I look at her, I see my own reflection. How great it is to know we are loved by God and that He alone is all we need!! Truth!!

Also, shout out to my Sister, Sister Teresa Mary on her blessed feast day!!