Dare to Love and Be Loved

"Dare to be strong and courageous. 

That is the road. Venture anything.

Be brave enough to dare to be loved."

- Sherwood Anderson, "Winesburg, OH"

Shouldn't I be a hand model?

     Driving to work long before the sun was up, the readings of the day were the farthest thing from my thoughts. I was sipping my piping hot coffee from my new travel mug and worrying about whether or not I would have enough dollar bills in the cup holder for the toll. Being the prepared woman I am, of course I had enough toll money set out. Once past through the toll booth, I began thinking about all the preparations I needed to make for today's Communion Service at school. It was only going to be the third one, but I was feeling pretty confident that everything would go smoothly. When I got to school, I opened my iBreviary app and quickly glanced at the readings. Today? The very well known reading from Corinthians "Love is patient...etc. etc. etc." I quickly thought, oh good, easy, and then didn't give it a second thought. 

     If you're a typical young woman between the ages of 14-25, you might be slightly obsessed with Nicholas Sparks' "A Walk to Remember." I remember watching it for the first time in high school and then quite possibly almost damaging the DVD I borrowed from the library due to over watching the movie. I remember sobbing every time I heard Mandy Moore sing, beg Shane West not to fall in love with her, and walk down the aisle. I loved the movie and every so often, when I need a good cry, I admittedly pull out the movie and watch it alone in my bedroom so I can sob into the pillow again. Of course, the movie was also far from my mind as I drove into work this morning, but the moment the student reading at the Communion Service began to read from St. Paul's letter to the Corinthians, I could hear Shane West's voice in my head reading the same passage to Mandy Moore as she lay sick in the hospital. Suddenly, I was equating Scripture to Nicholas Sparks...again. However childish it may have seemed at the moment, suddenly my view on this verse started to change.

     Shortly after our Communion Service, the bell rang signaling the beginning of the school day. I walked out to the hallway to hear the announcements and say prayers with the community. As part of the morning reflection, I heard the announcer say, "Love isn't easy." That's when I had my AHHHHH moment. How many times have I reflected on love and not given Corinthians a thought? How many times have I heard Corinthians read and not given the hardships of love a thought? How many times have I missed the boat on realized what St. Paul was really trying to say? Oh so many times. 

     St. Paul tells us that love is patient, love is kind, love does not boast. We have all heard it a million times. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things and ENDURES all things. I have reflected many times on how I've loved, because at the end of earthen life, we shall be judged on how much we have loved. I often ask myself, did I love enough in that situation? or what could I have done to love more? Many people say that I love everyone, I love life passionately and through my gentleness, I show so much love for people and God. Yet often, I say I can love more. I know I can, because God can love limitlessly. If He can do that, and if we are meant to love like Him, why do I put limits on my love? Why do I, when I'm already dressed for bed, say I can no longer help my sister with her homework? Why do I, when I'm running late for school, say I can not stop and turn the coffee machine on, when it would only take thirty seconds? Why do I, when I'm in the middle of typing something at school, not immediately turn around when a student enters the office? Why do I not love more? Why do I, when things get rough, decide to run from love, instead of run toward it? St. Paul tells us that it is during the rough times that love is needed most. When things are fine and dandy, love is easy. When things are rough, love is difficult. We run toward easy and away from difficult. It's part of being human. Yet, we must love more. 

      There is a flip side to loving, however, and that is being loved. Loving, most days, comes easy for me. Although I do wonder if there are ways I can love more, love through pain, love through hurt, love through difficulty, I know that when compared to being loved, loving is easier. Yesterday, I found the above quoted quotation. Our principal started the year off by telling all the students and parents that we each needed only 20 seconds of insane courage to do something great. I started to joke that I had heard the speech a few times and that I now had more than 20 seconds of insane courage...I had about a minute and a half. All joking aside, however, the word courage has been my anthem lately and when I saw the quotation, I knew it was one that would stick with me. "Dare to be courageous...be brave enough to dare to be loved." That was my message. It was reminded that I can only love as much as I am loved. The tank of love can only be emptied with it is filled. I thought of that this morning when I heard, "love endures all things."

       I began to think of a very close friend of mine who for the duration of this blog will be referred to as "the other JC." Many have heard me call Jesus, JC. He is "the other JC;" my Jesus in action. I have long believed myself to be tough, not soft. I have long believed that because of my life's experiences that I have grown to be so tough that I would not need anyone to break down my walls. For a very long time, loving and being loved was controlled by my terms. I could love as much as I wanted and accept love as much as I wanted, but as far I was concerned, I didn't need much being loved. If no one liked me, I would survive. God was the only one I needed to love me. Needless to say, I was wrong. 

       As human beings, we were made to love AND TO BE LOVED. I have often said this, but I have never wrote about my journey to reaching this realization. I am one of many "toughies." We are the group that if anyone shows affection or care, we stray away from it. We are haunted by the thoughts, I don't need to be loved by others, I don't deserve to be loved by others, why would anyone love me, anyway? Chances are each of us, at one point in life, have had these thoughts. If you're like me, you essentially built up a wall that said, "I do not need being loved because I am not courageous enough to dare to be loved." For a very long time, I believed all of these things. Yes, believe it or not, I wore a huge "tough girl" shield over my heart. That was until "the other JC" and a few others stepped into my life. 

      What "the other JC" did for me was take a wrecking ball (not in the style of Miley Cyrus) to that wall I had built around my heart. He started by the little compliments that would make any woman swoon: You're beautiful...in your pjs, without makeup, on your worst day, on your best day, in that dress, with your hair all done up. However, I was one who did not believe this about myself and so I scoffed at him. I truly thought he was only saying these things to get my attention. Well sisters, he was not getting it. But he continued. Every so often, I'd find a morning note on my windshield just saying hi, or a note under my door when I got home from student teaching. When I was upset, he would remind me that he was there if I needed, but allowed me to come to the need to be loved on my own terms. He didn't take the wrecking ball to my wall right away, but instead started chipping away at my wall piece by piece. 

       The year went on and slowly but surely, things got rougher for me. I didn't want him to love me. I didn't want anyone to love me. I didn't need it. I was tough enough without it. My fighting his love was actually a fight against myself...I was fighting to very human desire to be loved by another person. I was fighting the very human need for another to care about me. For so long I believed that I was tough enough to love and be loved on my own terms. However, I soon realized that there was a greater force in this experience. It was a reminder from God that I indeed needed to be loved. 

      "The other JC" put the love that St. Paul speaks about into action. He was patient with me, he was kind. He wasn't in it for his own interests, he only wanted the best for me. He never believed that loving me was going to end badly for him, loving me could only yield good. He endured everything I went through with me; he held onto hope. He was a living example of what I needed to do with my own life. I needed to maybe be a bit more kind and patient with those around me. I needed to look out for others and not myself. But mostly, I needed to love by enduring all things. I needed to take a look at how I was loving others and not give up on them; I needed to hold onto hope. "The other JC" has taught me an awful love about the love of Christ; he is so good for me. He is a daily reminded that I have been made to love and be loved. 

      Sometimes I look at the people I love so dearly and see my personality of being too tough to need to be loved. I want to say so strongly, "Just let me love you. Just let down your guard and let me love you like Christ loves. Let me help you carry the burdens of life." But sometimes I give up when they are tougher than I am...or seemingly so. I need to remember what "the other JC" teaches me: love endures all things. I have been courageous enough to love within my own limits. Now that I have dared to be loved, I need to be courageous enough to love even more. I need to be brave enough, patient enough, kind enough to love beyond all measures. Love isn't easy. It's not what the fairy tales convince us it is. Love is difficult, it is enduring, it is persisting through the toughest times, plowing through the toughest walls. Love is tears and smiles, hardships and bliss. Love is saying, "I love you enough to continue loving you even though you think you don't need it, don't deserve it, don't believe in it's possibility." Love is saying to every excuse another may come up with, "I love you more than that." Do you know how difficult that is?

     It took me a while; there were lots of growing pains. Maybe it was those 90 seconds of insane courage I collected over the course of the first week of school? Maybe it was the sudden reminder of my favorite hopelessly romantic movie of my teenage years? But probably it was the example of "Love in Action" given to me by "the other JC." It was as if we had entered a game of truth or dare and given that I'm a tough girl, I chose dare. But "the other JC" didn't dare me to go swimming in a pool with all my clothes on or filled with ice so as to dramatically drop the temperature. Oh no, his dare was much worse. He had dared me to love and be loved. And now, it's my turn to dare you. 

   

Pray for Surf

"Life is a lot like surfing.

When you get caught in the impact zone, 

you've got to just get back up.

Because you never know what might be

over the next wave."

- Bethany Hamilton

     It was a spur of the moment, mid-week decision: I was going to accompany three of my good friends to the Surfing Contest in Stone Harbor at Nun's Beach. I had originally planned on staying home and catching up on some sleep since it was a crazy first full week of school, but the girls convinced me otherwise. Besides who doesn't need a trip to the beach every so often, even when it's no longer Summer beach weather. Before I knew it we were all set and ready to leave Immaculata at the crack of dawn to make the two hour trek down to the beach. After a stop at Wawa for some breakfast and coffee, we were on our way. 

    Of course, some of you reading this might be saying, "I didn't know she surfed." Well folks, sorry to disappoint, but I do not surf. So why were we going to the surf contest? Well to steal a look or two at some surfer boys, of course. No, I'm just kidding. Actually, we had been recruited by my dear Sister Elaine to go and help the Sisters run the show. The Nun's Beach Surf Contest is an annual fundraiser for the Sisters of the IHM's Retreat House, Villa-Maria-by-the-Sea. For a few years in a row, the four of us had gone down in the Spring to help clean up the retreat house for the beginning of the retreat season. We only thought it fair to volunteer for the end of the retreat season fundraiser. Besides, this is my potential future beach house we are talking about. 

     We pulled into Stone Harbor about 9:30 (we missed the turn for 55 which set us back a bit) and headed straight to the kitchen. After a quick hello and a selfie with Sister Bern, we were ready for the food tent. The morning was full of cookies, brownies, coffee, laughter and inquiries about the famous chili and pizza. Of course, that was our shared morning. My personal morning consisted of believing a false tale of seagull brownie snatchers, watching the Hot Chocolate queen make the "secret recipe," and snapping photos of cute surfer boys (8 year olds with surfer hair just melt my heart) and my favorite nunnies. Over the course of the day, I had my life planned out for me by Sister Elaine, we wrote a rap, and we even did some dancing. I'll admit, I didn't see much of the surf contest, but I didn't complain. I got to spend the day outside with my favorite ladies who didn't judge me for my insane ocean-wind hair. 

     We were so blessed to have the rain hold off while we were outside. As we cleaned up the food tent (and all the extra hot dogs...I have never seen so many in my life), the drizzle drops started to come down. But, we made it inside before it down-poured, praise God. We had about an hour of downtime before dinner and the next event, so the four of us headed out to the front porch. Some of us took a nap...ahem...while others enjoyed some small talk. Of course, the sleeping princess (I do look like one if I don't say so myself), was awakened from her nap for dinner. It was then that I found myself among even more friends. 

     I have to admit that I didn't know a lot of the Sisters working the day's events before I got there, but I certainly left with a few more friends (on Facebook). I found myself eating dinner around a little island in the kitchen with some old acquaintances who quickly became good friends. I admittedly always laugh the hardest when I'm with the Sisters. Whether it's a Sister who I just met or someone I've known for years, usually at some point in a conversation, I have tears in my eyes from laughter. I re-met Sister Judy, became facebook friends with Sister Amadeo, and of course, sang our rap for Sister Elaine. It was like being among family, simply eating around the island with the girls. 

      The past two weeks have been an emotional roller coaster, as any might suspect. I started my new job, I've made lots of transitions, I've had to adjust my spiritual life to make time for adult life...it's a roller coaster. At one point last week, I cried bitterly on the way home simply because I missed "my girls in blue." It's different from missing my friends. If I'm missing one of them, I can easily shoot them a text or call them and they'll more than likely answer. With the Sisters, it's not so easy. They all have different schedules and texting isn't always easy. I was so used to seeing them every single day at Mass, getting at least fifty hugs a day from them, and enjoying a friendly banter with the older Sisters. They were more than just religious to me, they became my Sisters, "my girls." Not seeing them every day now is hard for me and I miss them more than words can express. Spending the day at the beach with some of my original group of nunnies and adding a few more to the "my girls" category was exactly what I needed. 

       I needed the laughter of tears rolling down my cheeks, I needed an insane amount of moments to embarrass myself by being freely, I needed the companionship of "my girls," heck, I'll even admit to needing all the hugs and love. I can't tell you how many goofy pictures we took with the girls, how many insane moments we shared, how many beautiful conversations happened over cranberry sauce, washing dishes and horse-racing. The truth is, these lovely women of God made it so easy for me to forget that I had ever felt like a piece of me was missing from being away from the ladies in blue for so long. I know I am so insanely blessed to have so many women with whom I share a companionship. From mentors to friends to partners in crime, these are "my girls." I found it absolutely amazing that I now share a deeper friendship with many of the Sisters who I just met. It's a wonder how friendships can be established over only a course of a few hours. I am feeling so blessed.

       Our night didn't end with dinner, of course. The four of us girls found ourselves helping prep dinner, wash dishes and even clean up. The second part of the fundraiser is a dinner and raffle night for many patrons of the retreat house. While many of the Sisters were out on the floor serving dinner, the girls were back in the kitchen helping things go as smoothly as possible. We weren't only on kitchen duty though, we had to introduce our beloved teacher, Sister Elaine, for her role in the horse race. Yes, that rap we wrote earlier in the day was making a come back that night. Everyone enjoyed it. Of course, with a line like "she went on one small date and her ma got scared, she said, you're moving to the convent in malvern, pa," how could you not like it. A good time was honestly had by all. 

      As we drove back to school that night, I couldn't help but thank God for all my blessing that I had received that day. It simply proved my belief that the more you give of yourself, the more blessings you receive. I simply gave my two hands and volunteered for the Sisters at the Surf Contest. What I got in return was a ay full of laughter, good times, good food and many new friendships. I had been missing the feeling of belonging, the feeling of family, and the ladies in blue, my girls, gave it back to me. Of course, there was a small fee for some: one selfie, please. Next year, I hope to be finding myself praying for surf once again with my girls at Nun's Beach.

Run So As To Win

"Therefore, I run in such a way, as not without aim;

I box in such a way, as not beating the air.

but I discipline my body and make it my slave, 

so that, after I have preached to others, 

I myself will not be disqualified."

- 1 Corinthians 9:26-27

    

    As many of you know, recently I started a new endeavor in my life: working as a Campus Minister at a local high school. It has been a whirlwind of adventures from planning Community Service events, to meeting with students, faculty and administration alike, to ordering various this for the school to especially planning our first BIG official Liturgy...that was today. 

     For the past week, I've been reading through various Scripture readings, asking for volunteers to help at Mass, picking and then practicing music with the Liturgy Singers, and so much more. It seemed that every time I thought I was finished planning, something else would come up. You know how it is, every time you sit down to catch your breath, you're off and running again. Well, finally sometime earlier this week, I found I was ready to go for today. That's when I sat down to write my before Mass reflection. 

     The Scripture readings for today were excellent. I did not even hesitate to use different readings other than the ones set for the day. The first reading was St. Paul's letter to the Corinthians which I have quoted above. It has been one of my most favorite Scripture passages for a very long time and last year, when I was asked to think about a theme for the beginning of a school year for my students for an Education class, I immediately resorted to that passage. I had dreams of my students reflecting often on the needs for preparing oneself to run in a race. I had dreams of running with them hypothetically. I had dreams of even wearing sneakers on the first day of class just to say, "We are now running to win." I may have even dreamed of my students eventually nicknaming me coach. I know, I was dreaming big. Yet, God, as He is so amazing, answered another one of my prayers - He allowed my dreams to come true. 

     This morning I stood before the entire student body, the entire faculty, staff and administration as well as some parents who were present for the Student Council Induction. Little me in front of hundreds of people of all ages. But was I nervous? No, actually. I remembered what Sister Cathy had said to me about this time last year: It's okay to be nervous, to have butterflies, so long as all the butterflies are in the right place. So, after sharing that with a few of those who were assisting in the Mass, I got up behind the Lectern and began. Here is my reflection:

     "During my first week at Mount St. Joseph Academy, I heard some hustling and bustling in the hallway. It was still summertime and so, I was confused as to who might be making all the noise. As I walked out of my office, I found an entire team of girls laying on the hallway floor doing some type of exercise. After introducing myself and inquiring about which team was lying before me, I enlightened the team on my recent endeavor to get in shape by running. It was then that the Cross Country team invited me to run with them. I couldn’t help but think that their invitation was the most perfect way for me to start off the new year.

     Today we hear in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians to “run so as to win.” St. Paul invites us, just as the cross country team invited me, to drive and train our bodies, our spiritual, emotional and physical bodies, so that in the end we may achieve the greatness that is Heaven. We must train our brains so as to achieve in the classroom, train our bodies to achieve on the field or court, train our voices to achieve on the stage, train our brush strokes to achieve on the canvas. We must train our spirits by prayer to achieve holiness. St Paul also cautions against running aimlessly; we must run with purpose, with drive. We cannot run if we do have a destination. May your destination be Heaven. Of course, a final aspect is that we must run together as a team, striving to be instruments of unity and reconciliation.

     Students, Faculty and Administration alike, I encourage you to take up the invitation from the Cross Country team. Set your hearts, minds and souls on Jesus and run; run so as to win."

      As I spoke, I could sincerely feel the Holy Spirit within and around me. Oh how beautiful a feeling. I walked to the back of the auditorium and felt the eyes of many students and teachers upon me. I was greeted in the back by the President who graciously gave me a thumbs up. I thanked God and let the rest of the Mass take place. I thought I wasn't in for any surprises, but alas, God always has something up His sleeve.

      When it came time for the Homily, Father asked the entire Cross Country team to stand up. I started laughing. The girls hesitated at first but eventually, girls all over the auditorium stood up. Father than asked the captain of the team to join him on the apron of the auditorium. She, again, hesitated, but went. Father asked her a few questions about what it took to train and practice for Cross Country. He then asked her why she invited me to run with the team. She answered by saying that I was new and they wanted to welcome me. Of course, Father then asked if I had been out to practice with them. When she said no, I had to laugh. It was true. You can bet your bottom dollar that the next thing I will be doing after I finish this post is emailing the coach and asking for a practice schedule! I need to go at least once with them! 

       Our Liturgy went beautifully and throughout the day I have been congratulated on a beautiful first Liturgy. I am so grateful for the amazing faculty, staff and administration who has continued to support me since day one. I am so grateful for my students who have been nothing but helpful. Oh how amazing they are. And of course, how grateful I am to my God for giving me my dream come true: standing before my students, my colleagues, and my students' parents asking them to run with me and with Jesus. It is truly amazing that I got to preach my desire to run for God's Cross Country team. 

      I will keep running so as to win, to attain holiness. Of course, I might also be caught running with the Cross Country team. So, if you happen to see me after school one day with my sneakers on underneath my skirt, don't judge. I've just been running with my students. 

I AM WOMAN

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me.

I am a free human being with an independent will."

- Charlotte Bronte, "Jane Eyre"

       I had a teacher in college that whenever talking about feminism, he would always say, "I AM WOMAN," in a deep voice, proclaiming in his own way, the strength of the woman. I would always laugh and think, well real ladies would never use a deep manly voice. She would use her dainty, lady voice and say, "Well yes, sir, I do appear to be a bit stronger than you." Today, on my adventure with my best friend, I could not stop thinking about Mr. Mooney saying, "I AM WOMAN." In fact, I may have even said it a few times myself. If there's anything that feels mighty liberating as a woman, it's being able to lift two kayaks out of the water and into a truck that I just backed down the ramp. Say what? Yes, I did that.

     I've been reading a book titled, "Rose Under Fire." This book is a companion book to another book I just finished, "Code Name Verity." Both are written by Elizabeth Wein and both are historical fiction. Now, a little bit of a back story for you before I continue. As a kid, I always loved reading historical fiction books, especially books that showcased young women as the main character. I don't know if you ever heard of the Dear America series, but I thrived on those. Each were a diary form book written by a young girl during a historical time period. Now, flash forward to present day me searching in the book store for a casual Young Adult Literature book to read on vacation. As Sister Marcille taught me, I went after the book that had the Printz Award label on the front. Turns out, it was a historical fiction book. I knew I would love it, so I bought the companion book, too. I just started the second book Thursday...I'm almost done. 

     When I first picked up the books, I thought, oh good, another historical fiction during the WWII time era; one I personally love studying. As I got started, however, I realized I was reading about quite a few hipster ladies. By that, I mean, young women who were breaking stereotypes left and right by doing amazing things. One was a Special Orders Pilot...imagine, a woman pilot, especially during that time period. Of course, her best friend was a spy and interrogator. I fell in love with the characters who not only stayed true to the characterization of women at the time, but also were insanely feminist and willing to go above and beyond what women normally did. The second book also features a female pilot and describes at length the women concentration camp that still to this day doesn't have too much written about it. It describes in insane detail the strength of thousands of women. I felt as if these women were my comrades, my fellow strong women. Of course, there was one scene that struck me in particular that I felt extremely connected with. 

     The scene takes place toward the beginning of the story when Rose, the female pilot, gets trapped between two German fighter planes. She eventually is requested to follow the fighter planes to a German airfield; she has become a POW in the air. When she lands the plane and is asked to remove herself from the aircraft, she steps out of the pilots seat, but still has her helmet on. They order her to take her helmet off and a stream of curly brown hair falls out from underneath. The men's mouths gape open and suddenly they are saluting her and clapping for her; she fielded an excellent landing. Of course, there is much irony in this scene. The young woman, first of all is a POW and an American one at that. These mean saluting her were German airmen. At first I thought, well good for her to get such a response to landing that plane. But then I thought, if it had been a man pilot, they wouldn't have done that. What made her landing so special other than the fact that she was a woman pilot?! Nothing. As absurd as it was, the scene struck accord with me.

      You see, so often I am mistaken for a weak person. People always offer to help me carry things and stuff like that. Sometimes I think it's because I am little; a whopping five foot. But other times, I think it's probably because I am a woman. Today, like I said before, my best friend and I went kayaking in the river. Imagine the scene: two young women riding high in a Ford pick-up truck with two kayaks in the bed. First of all, a little lady is driving the truck. Second of all, she's going to have to get those kayaks out of the back of the truck. As I pulled into the parking lot, I could already see the crowd of men staring at me. Yes, boys, I had just hopped out of the cab of this truck. Now, look away. I knew they were anxiously waiting to see how I would approach getting the kayaks out of the bed of the truck. Shocking to admit, but I did it with no problem. Of course, my best friend was there to get her kayak out of the bed of the truck, too. What a sight to behold, two ladies carrying kayaks down the river. 

     I started to laugh at the absurdity. I really didn't think it was that big of a deal that we had just done that. However, the end of the craziness was no where in sight. As we were pulling the kayaks down the river to put in a bit further away from all the mud, an older gentleman stopped us. He asked if I had ever put in there before. I answered yes. He then told me that I should be careful because the tide was changing soon. Shocking, but I knew this to be true. Of course, he mentioned a few more river facts, all of which I knew. And as I nodded my head, he seemed to get more and more shocked. I wasn't sure why actually, but later it hit me. I'm a lady. He was a kind man, but he definitely thought we had no idea what we were doing. I thanked him for his conversation and we were on our merry way. 

     We enjoyed a paddle down stream and soon decided to head back. There were a lot of boats and jetskis out enjoying the Summer's last hoorah and so we often had to stop and change direction so we didn't tip. As we headed back, the river current got rougher and rougher and it was getting harder and harder to paddle back. Going against the current is the worst BUT it does build muscle mass. It was difficult but we continued. Suddenly, Mary Kate noticed some "fog" up ahead. Ironically, however, it wasn't fog, it was a downpour. We paddled for cover (because the last thing you want is a kayak filled with rain water) and took refuge under some kind peoples' dock. We made a video and then decided to head back out. We were only about half a mile away from where we put in. 

     The rain ceased as we paddled and the river current was much calmer, thus, easier for us to paddle. The boat ramp was in sight and the tide was coming in, so there would be much less mud to plow through. Of course, as we neared the boat ramp, another downpour. We laughed and this time, kept going. We were so close. We decided to take pictures, too, when we landed, because it was, after all, a monumental moment. There was one guy fishing who was enjoying the moment by laughing at us, but that soon changed when we hauled the kayaks up the ramp a bit. You see, it appeared that I was going to leave them there. But that was not the case. 

     I ran, still in the rain, to the truck, hopped up in the cab and reversed so I could turn around. Then I backed the truck down the ramp so that the two of use could swing the kayaks in the back and head home. We actually gained the attention of many as we did this quickly and efficiently. I smiled and laughed. As we drove home, I said, "Nothing is more liberating to me than being able to do things that people think women can't do...like handle her own kayak and drive a truck." My best friend just laughed.

     I am a feminist and often, I find it hilarious that women are always underestimated. Yes, I believe that there is such a feministic beauty in being genuine, caring, motherly, gentle. Those are the characteristics that make me a woman. But what also makes me a woman is my strength, both emotional and physical. To put things in perspective...my kayak weighs about 60 pounds. That's about the size of a toddler. Both of these facts enhances my feminism. As a woman, I may be expected to take care of children, babies and toddlers. I may be expected to pick them up and coo over them. Don't get me wrong, I loooooooove doing that. I love children and child-rearing is an amazing beauty all in it's own. But, if my toddler weighs 60 pounds, then why, when I pick up a kayak weighing about the same, is it a shock to everyone around. People, get a grip, I want to say. I don't, of course, because I'm a lady. I simply smile and behind my smile, I say, "Now, let me see you do that."

     I felt proud to be a lady today. Every day, I proud to be a woman, but today I felt especially proud. It wasn't that I already knew the things that our older man friend was telling us about the river. No, it wasn't because my Daddy had already taught me these things. And it wasn't that I got to drive Daddy's truck either (seriously...I NEED one of my own though). I learned to drive in that monster, so that was just taking the truck for a spin. And it actually wasn't the fact that my best friend and I paddled against the current in the pouring rain. That was just fun. What made me super proud was that all those strong men who were shocked when a lady hopped out of the cab of a pick-up truck and watched me as I lifted the kayaks out of the bed with ease, didn't offer an ounce of help. Now while that might make a few people upset (how dare they not help a damsel in distress), I enjoyed it. Why? Because they watched, they were shocked and they didn't offer help, because they knew I could do it. 

     I'm not always a radical feminist, but when I am, I lift kayaks out of trucks and paddle against the current in the pouring rain. Now I can't wait to see people's reactions when I do that as a nun. In the words of Mr. Mooney, "I AM WOMAN."

My Ice Water Challenge - A Reflection

"If I offer you a cup of water and bring you a glass of ice, 

I am trying to teach you patience."

- Jarod Kintz

     Most of us, in recent weeks, have logged into various social media sites and seen a newsfeed full of ALS Ice Water Bucket Challenges. For those of you who haven't enjoyed this phenomenon, there are numerous videos of people having buckets of ice water dumped on their heads. Of course, some are extremely funny, some are super precious; they bring us entertainment as we pray and hope we don't get nominated by a friend or two. It was started by one man who has ALS doing the challenge...then, shortly it spread across the world. Even the nuns were doing it. According to BostInno.com, the challenge has raised over 88.5 million dollars. It's absolutely amazing what this social media effort has done for the ALS Foundation. Of course, there's one troubling thing that I keep thinking about: the amount of water that has been wasted in doing the challenge.

     At first, I found the Ice Water Challenge to be entertaining. I thought it was hilarious watching people I know experience this cold water challenge. But the more and more it took place, the more and more I thought about the water. I have always LOVED water and if you've read my many blog posts about water, you already know about my desire to conserve water. I've done much traveling to countries where I couldn't drink the water...where the natives couldn't drink the water...because it was dirty and unhealthy. This past Summer in Peru, I learned that the people on the hills of Montenegro only get ten minutes worth of water a week. For many of us, that's only enough time in the shower to get wet. The more I experience in other places, the more I am grateful for the gift of water. Seeing all of the Ice Water Challenges got to me...look at all that water. I had to stop watching them. Then, I was nominated. Twice.

      According to the challenge, once a person is nominated, he or she only has 24 hours to complete the challenge. I was nominated twice, so I gave myself 48 hours to come up with a creative way to participate but also to spread the word about water conservation. So, after church last Sunday afternoon, I dragged my sister outside with the video camera and took the Ice Water Pitcher out of my fridge. I started in the back yard, thanking my nominators and giving my plug to ALS, as many other videos. But then I stated my claim about water conservation. Then...I challenged everyone to think about the water and about those who don't have. Then...I put the water back in the fridge and ended the video. My sister, who thought she was going to watch me dump a bucket of ice water on my head was a little disappointed but she mentioned that people were probably going to get mad about my video. I didn't care what kind of uproar it could potentially start. I just wanted to get the word out there. 

     I uploaded the video that afternoon and watched as my likes soared. Comment after comment came filing in thanking me for speaking out for the water. A few people even shared my video. For the time being, I wasn't catching any grief for the video. I was surprised. People were actually listening to my message. They were acknowledging the need for water conservation. I mentioned in my video that in California, the ALS Water Challenge was banned due to a prolonged drought season. Other places in the USA have banned it, too, due to water conservation needs. I thought, how fortunate are we in the US that we can ban such things when in other countries, dumping a bucket of water on your head would not even be thought of. I find it interesting that my pitcher of water that I put in the fridge is something out of which I would later get eight glasses of cold water to drink while in a different country, that same amount of water would be used to bathe an entire family. I started to think about all the buckets of water...that's a lot of baths for families in countries that don't have every day access to water. 

     As the days went on, a few of my friends started tagging me in videos. A close friend's mom tagged me in her ALS Water Challenge. The first thing she mentioned was that instead of filling her bucket up with water from the sink, she used collected rain water. My uncle was nominated and decided to do his water challenge in the garden so that he could water the garden at the same time. Matt Damon (not because of me...) even did something different and used toilet water...or so I've heard. Of course, I'm pretty sure he took a nice long shower after that one. But anyway the point is, people were starting to find conservative ways to partake in the ALS Water Challenge. I found it inspiring really. People were now giving a second thought to simply dumping water on their heads. Of course, it wasn't long before I met my first comment of opposition.

     The comment challenged me to take fewer showers and to brush my teeth once a day instead of twice a day. Now, while many people might be weirded out by that and think, ew the hygiene that won't happen, I, on the other hand, laughed. Not out of spite, honestly, but because for the past four years, I've made a conscious effort to reduce water in the simplest ways. I used to shower every day for at least twenty minutes. In high school, I reduced my showers to about ten minutes. Now folks, that includes shampooing and conditioning my wickedly curly hair. But when I got to college, I made a very conscious effort to shower every other day. No one ever said anything to me about me being smelly, so I don't anyone ever noticed. There are ways to be hygienic without showering every day. I know this may come as a shock to some people, but it's true. It takes one handful of water to rinse your face. It takes two spreads of deodorant not to smell. It takes one ponytail holder or a comb to make one's hair look presentable. I actually like to put my plug out there for the fact that it's actually better for your skin to shower every other day as opposed to every day. 

     There are other ways to conserve water in a day to day life. When you drink ice water, don't dump the ice in the sink when you finish the water. Let it melt and have more water. Patience. When washing the dishes, don't let the water run while you're not rinsing. Instead, fill the sink up and rinse in that. When brushing your teeth or washing your hands, don't run the water while lathering or brushing. If you really want to be conservative, turn the water off in the shower when you wash your hair or shave. Don't drain your pool at the end of the summer like my family does (yes, that was a BIG one because my pool was in the video). We mostly use the same water every year. When doing the laundry, use cold water (conserves energy) and use the lowest water setting. See? Plenty of things one can do. 

      Water is so important to me, not only because I LOVE being by the ocean or the river or the lake or the creek, but because I've experienced what it's like to be thirsty. Maybe it's because I've experienced firsthand what it's like to be a country where water isn't readily available to drink...or to bathe...or to wash hands. I've seen the great and amazing things the ALS Ice Water Challenge has done...I mean look at the amount of money it has raised and the awareness. But I'm challenging you to think about the water and the people who don't have the water before you simply dump a bucket of water on your head. Dump it over the garden, use rain water, make that your daily bathing, use a cup instead of a bucket, jump in the ocean when it's cold or the pool, do something different and do it for the conservation of the water.

To Whom It May Concern. Sincerely, Rejection

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

How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was - 

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

- E.L. James

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Get In The Water - Doubt and Faith

"Doubt isn't the opposite of faith;

it's an element of faith."

- Paul Tillich

    I have always been a hopeless romantic. I can embarrassingly enough admit to reading every Nicholas Sparks novel and loving it. I can also admit to knowing just about every word in the movie "The Notebook." I absolutely loved reading cheesy romance novels (nothing distasteful, of course). But that wasn't all. I loved hearing how couples met, their stories of first dates, the little things about each other that they love. I'm always willing to hear love stories partly because I have my own love story to tell...between me and JC. And this morning, while I was sitting in Mass, I couldn't help but think that if I was in the boat with the disciples, Jesus might react much like Ryan Gosling in the Notebook (see above picture). 

     If you've seen the movie, you know exactly what I am talking about. Noah (Ryan Gosling) has just started dating Allie (Rachel McAdams) when they find themselves at a summer, Southern lake or pond. All but Allie have swung on the rope swing to get in the water and Noah is cheering her on. After a few "fake-outs" and lots of screaming, Allie finally swings on the rope swing and falls into the cold water. She had been looking out over the pond (probably filled with creepy-crawlies, so I don't blame her), scared out of her mind to jump in, and Noah, already having been in the water, shouts at her "GET IN THE WATER." This scene was playing in my head as I listened to the Gospel reading. Now, trust me, I was paying attention.

     In the Gospel reading today, we hear the familiar story of the disciples in the boat in the middle of a storm. Jesus, walks on water toward them, and they are fearful of Him possibly being a ghost. When the disciples realize it is Jesus, Jesus asks Peter to get out of the boat and into the water. Of course, we all know what happens. Peter starts to get scared and begins to sink. Jesus, then, raises him up. I pictured myself in the boat facing a terrifying storm (or the terrifying pond). Jesus, having been on the water (in the storm) already, beckons for me to come out of the water, perhaps playfully like Noah in "The Notebook. Much like Allie, I hesitate, unsure of what is going to happen once I get in the water. But, because I love Jesus, like Allie loved Noah, I get in the water. See the visual? Yeah...then there was me trying not to giggle as I imagined Jesus looking like Ryan Gosling. But that's not all...

     As I continued to reflect, after the Homily, I pulled out the Gospel reading again. I was looking for any sign of Jesus actually calming the storm before asking Peter to come out on the water. There wasn't any. So you see, the disciples were already sitting in a boat in the midst of the storm when Jesus comes. Now remember, Jesus had to walk through the storm to get to the boat. Jesus doesn't calm the storm; there's not even a brief mention of the sea calming when He walks toward them. But instead, He simply says, "Do not be afraid." Oh yeah...the disciples were already terrified because of the storm. Then suddenly Jesus shows up and says, do not be afraid, but doesn't actually do anything about the storm?! Sounds reasonable (enter sarcasm here). Not only does He not calm the storm, but then He asks Peter to join Him out on the water, which was probably extremely choppy and rough. If anything, the storm is worst out in the water where Jesus is standing, than in the boat, thus, being even more terrifying. Yet, Peter does it. Of course, we know that Peter at one point "thinks about the wind" (I would be more worried about the sharks underneath but to each his own) and starts to slip beneath the water. At this point Jesus, raises him up and says, "Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?" 

    How often is this our life? As I listened, I felt the reading strike a chord with me. Right now, I'm sitting in my own boat and I can feel the waters starting to get rough and choppy. I can see the storm of uncertainty coming. I don't have a job secured yet; I'm not sure if I'm going to live at home or move out; I don't know what's going to happen in the next few months, weeks, days; I don't know a lot of things. All of this is swirling around me and I can feel the storm coming. So often we see these storms coming; these true storms of uncertainty. Often, we find ourselves begging for the storms to go away, to be calmed, to just stop, much like I was last night. But the storms don't stop; they get worse and we feel we are stuck in our boats. But Jesus will come to us; He will go through the storm to find us. And then, He will ask us to go even deeper into the storm. We see Jesus and we are peaceful, but the moment we start thinking about the storm again, we start to sink. This is when Jesus asks us about our faith. 

     At this moment in my life, I feel Jesus asking me to get in the water. I haven't quite yet left the boat, but I know He is there asking me to get in the water. I see Him and I'm begging Him to calm the storms, but He wants me to go deeper into the storm. He wants to show me that with Him, I can weather the storm. He wants to show me my strength; He wants me to believe in myself. But I think, too, all sailors gain experience by the storms they go through. They are better prepared the bigger and worse storms they might have to weather. This storm now is teeny compared to the storms that will come later in life. Jesus is asking me to go deeper into the storm to better prepare me for the ones I might encounter later in my life. And all the while, He is promising to hold my hand. He is promising to be there with me, either through another person or via carrying me in prayer. Right now I'm looking at the storm and at Jesus, holding out His hand and begging me to get in the water. 

     As I was thinking about all of this, I happened to look over at a dear friend of mine who was seated on the other side of the church. On some mornings, she and I share a pew in the Chapel, so we have truly gotten to know each other by praying with and for one another. She has become a spiritual mentor for me and I am extremely grateful for her presence in my life. Anyway, I was looking around the Chapel and found her seated there with our Pastor's mom. At this point in the Mass, we just knelt down for the consecration. Our Pastor's mom was sitting in her wheelchair in front of the pew my friend was kneeling in. As soon as she knelt down, she reached in front of her and offered her hand. Our Pastor's mom took her hand and throughout the consecration, they held hands. Of course, both both and after this, I had seen moments of similar comfort. On occasion, my friend would put her hands on the shoulders of the dear woman in front of her or offer her hand in a comforting way. It is clear to me that this dear woman, our Pastor's mom, is going through a storm herself. She is aging and the aging process is sometimes terrifying. Yet, my friend is often with her and offering her comfort. It seems to me that our Pastor's mom might be in the middle of her storm, and Jesus is holding her up through my friend. 

     It was these moments through Mass that reminded me of what would happen when I finally get out of the boat. Right now, I'm holding onto my boat, the things in life of which I am certain, which really isn't too much. I can see Jesus in the distance, coming towards me and begging me to get in the water. I used to be a cannon ball girl. That is, I used to jump right in the pool or ocean no matter how cold or rough the waters might be. But now, I'm more reserved. I don't know what's in the water, I don't know what's in my storm, and so it's harder for me to jump out. I know though, that Jesus will be much life my friend. He will offer me a gentle hand to hold, gentle hands on my shoulders or arms, just so that I know He is there. He will hold me up when I start to fear in the storm, too. 

    So why am I holding onto my boat? I'm afraid I'll sink in my fears of uncertainty. I'm afraid. Jesus is telling me, "do not be afraid; do not fear that which you do not know." I know, Jesus, I know. But my human instincts say, "stay in the boat." No one in their right mind would jump in the ocean in the middle of a storm and yet, Jesus did. Jesus walked right into the storm to find me. And now, He's telling me that the only way to survive the storm is if I get in the water. So often, our human instincts don't match what faith says to do. In fact, a lot of times, it feels quite like they are opposing forces. I feel that way now. I know that faith says I will survive if I weather the storm. So, maybe it's time I heed the message. Maybe it's time I just "get in the water." Maybe, like Allie, I need to trust the love of my life enough, and just jump. But until I get the courage to do so, I'll work on making my doubt walk the plank.