What's Your Price Tag? - A Story of Chastity

"We must practice modesty, not only in our looks, 

but in our whole deportment, and particularly in our dress, 

our walk, our conversation, and all similar actions."

- St. Alphonsus Ligouri

    If you were to randomly walk in my Catholic Social Teaching class today or yesterday or even last week you would probably have some of the following initial thoughts: where is the rest of the class? are there really that many students out sick? why are the lights off? why are they listening to music during prayer? and many more. The rest of my class does not exist; I have a whopping six this quarter. While many teachers may panic at that thought, I have fallen in love with this notion. Usually all six are present, however, it still makes the class seem small. We usually leave the lights off because the sun shines perfectly through the windows; why use extra energy when natural energy is sufficient? And finally, what better way to pray than by praying twice (St. Augustine)? However, also upon walking into my class these past few days, you would have heard conversations concerning the be C word. That's right Chastity. You would have seen it on the board, on our iPads, in our Google Docs and definitely on our lips. Chastity in Social Justice? But of course. 

      I typically do not post about controversial topics but the Spirit has really been moving me to write about this topic. Besides, I have no qualms preaching the usually unpopular Social Justice views of the Church in my class (maybe it's because they pay me? Just kidding!) so why shouldn't I continue my call to share awareness? Upon first thought, one may not think that Chastity has a place in a Social Justice classroom. One might also think that Humanae Vitae is a Church Document rather suited for college students studying Marriage and Family, not High School students. But each time I assign the 1968 Papal Encyclical written by Pope Paul VI, I am continuously made proud of my students who pull apart the document and summarize and understand it. Today, my students finished reading a part of Humanae Vitae and once again, I was the proud teacher. 

     Without trying to get too heady, Article 2 of Humanae Vitae addresses various issues permeating our society today such as contraception, IVF, responsible parenthood, marriage. It indirectly leads to conversations about abortion, euthanasia, adoption, and other beginning/end of life issues about which Catholic Social Teaching is concerned. So now, you, in brief, understand why I require my students to read this document. A document which, by the way, I have seen college students struggle with understanding. Last week, I introduced our reading of Humanae Vitae by putting the word CHASTITY on the board. After getting a brief definition from a student, I quickly put a slash through the word and asked for results of a negligence to practicing chastity. The conversation quickly filled up the front board and the entire side board (yes, despite technology permeating the hallways of the school, I still used chalk and subsequently fulfilled my teacher dream of getting chalk all over my pants) with Social Justice issues that stem from a negligence to practicing Chastity. Imagine their surprise when such huge Social Justice issues were connected with such a "simple" topic of Chastity. 

     My students are aware of the fact that I am 4-5 years older than they are. While many professors would encourage would be teachers to NOT reveal their ages to their students, especially if there is a small age gap, I feel it is necessary for my students to know that I am a part of their generation. There is a comfort in the classroom when it comes to discussing various topics and also, my "young age" stands as proof that it is possible to live a CATHOLIC life and still be normal (a relative description, of course). My favorite part of teaching CST is the beginning of life issues, because so many start with Chastity, a topic so rarely touched in today's society. Why is it my favorite? Well, because being so young and so close in age to my students, I can see the thinking gears going when I mention that Chastity is possible. 

     As I was preparing for my class today, I was blessed to talk to a good friend's mom on the phone. She is coming to guest speak to my class in two weeks about adoption and we were going over some topics of discussion. I caught her up on what my students will know by the time she comes to visit and somehow, we got to talking about reading Humanae Vitae and practicing Chastity. She mentioned how rare it is that young people hear about the importance of chastity from other young people. We started talking about how women are so much more under attack from the devil because of our vulnerability. While it is true that both man and woman are needed for the creation of a new child, the woman carries the new life. Without her temple, the child could not be born. Eve, a woman (in case you forgot) was targeted before Adam because women are naturally modeled to be more emotionally vulnerable than men. It is a beautiful thing, truly, but the devil knows this to be true and attacks it at any given chance. Today, this is also true. He continues to attack the vulnerability of women. He confuses the minds of young women by falsely showing physical actions as emotional love. He confuses the minds of young women by giving them every "good" reason to neglect the practice of chastity. 

    I brought this up to my students in class after we finished reading and summarizing Humanae Vitae. Of course, teaching in an all girl school usually means that students are chopping at the bit to discuss feminism at any given chance. Isn't it a feminist argument in talking about being under attack by the devil? I think so. I took advantage of our class today (a true teachable moment) to talk gently about Chastity. Many Catholics grow up with the belief that "sex is bad;" a very Puritan take on relationships. However, the Church believes quite the opposite. Humanae Vitae clearly says that the marital acts between a man and woman are good; procreative and unitive yielding a beautiful marriage. With very logistical reasons, I explained to my students why the Church believes in Chastity and the thinking gears were turning as they began to understand that sex within marriage is a beautiful thing, especially after a life of Chastity is pursued before marriage. 

     The truth is this: a life of chastity pursued before marriage yields fidelity in a marriage. By one's physical action of waiting for marriage, one proclaims, by his or her body, that the physical gift of self belongs only to the spouse. It proclaims, "I will wait until I verbally give my whole self to you, to give my whole self physically." A practice of chastity before marriage yields greater, more wholesome marriages and families. A practice of chastity leads to true, loving sexual relationships with the purpose of being unitive and procreative. Of course, all of this can be found in Church Documents and Encyclicals. But where is Chastity in society?

     Having sex is so often regarded as a right of passage of sorts in relationships. For example, if two people have been in a relationship for six or nine months (or any given amount of time) and not yet have had sex, then something must be wrong, right? Wrong. There is the familiar concept of getting to second and third base and scoring a home run. But why? Does it grind my gears when people ask I've "done anything yet" in my current relationship? Yes. Because quite honestly, yes I've done some things....some things like watch Netflix, go ice skating, hold hands, go out to dinner, go for walks in the snow with my dog, go on wholesome double dates with my ten-year old Sister and her 8 year old boy best friend. But "done anything yet" is said with the indication that is the question is not "what type of dates?" but rather "what level of sexual achievement have you reached?" Why is it so hard to believe that chastity is practiced? Because the devil permeates society by saying that sex is the only way to express love. 

     My students know how much chastity permeates my heart. It is not only by my personal witness and story telling, but rather my passion in classroom instruction, that they understand the importance of chastity in my own life. In the beginning of the quarter, I start the course by explaining to them that we are Princesses because we share in the royalty of God both because we are made in His image and because He has made use with such great price. God intends us each to be a pearl of great price, not fake gold. (Trust me when I say, pearl earrings cost way more than gold plated sterling silver). God's intent was to make us so beautiful and for each of us to recognize the beauty in each other. I am a pearl and my students are pearls; I am not to treat them like cheap gifts. I am not to treat them less than their true value of Imago Dei and vice versa. The same is implied when it comes to chastity. My students are young women to be treated by young men as the pearls of great price. They are to be treated as true gifts. 

       I tell my students often that "what you wear and how you act is what you advertise." By their actions and attire they proclaim a price tag. They are pearls of great price but society so often encourages us to cheapen ourselves to a "lesser price." That is the devil after us. He puts false advertisement on sex; there is no disclaimer about the negative effects. The devil falsely proclaims that sex empowers whereas the reality is that chastity empowers. My virginity is a gift I am saving. We wouldn't give a strand of pearls to just anyone, right? If I am called to marriage, that gift is reserved for my husband and it is a gift he will receive only after we say "I do." If I am called to religious life, it is a gift I offer to Jesus and I ask Him to make me fruitful in spiritual ways. 

      Practicing chastity is not easy and it is a daily prayer of mine. I pray for the ability to remain chaste and for my students to find the beauty in remaining chaste. I tell my students every day that we must be women who, "when we wake up in the morning, the devil says, 'oh crap, she's up.'" By my very prayers for chastity, I am already stomping all over the devil's plan to lessen my price tag. By practicing chastity, we ruin the plans of the devil. If that is not empowering for women, I don't know what is. 

      Now, I was going to wait until Valentine's Day to share the following with many of you, but I feel this topic lends itself to the story. It is with full understanding that I very much still feel the desire and call to religious life that I was asked out on a date many times my Senior year. It was with that strong desire still permeating my heart that I denied the request for a date. Of course, the pure pursuing continued the summer after graduation until finally, after much prayer, I felt God was asking me to try the dating scene one more time. (I think I will share that story on Valentine's Day...be sure to check back!) Being 22 and 23 years old, there is no question that the sexual "norms and pressures" surround our relationship. But there is nothing more empowering than hearing, "I will wait for you." You see, he waited a whole year (maybe more) for me to simply agree to go on a date. He promises me that waiting longer for the beauty of sex is worth the wait. He tells me that it makes him stronger as a Catholic man. He tells me that I am the pearl of great price and I am beautifully deserving chastity. Of course, what truly melts my heart is when he tells me that he knows religious life is still a viable option for me. He knows that I may very well enter religious life, even after dating him. He knows that our dating relationship is part of the discernment process. It is with this knowledge that he reminds me that there is no way he could ask me to give up my gift prematurely if it is meant to be given to Jesus. 

     Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't mention this: when I teach CST, I am pray for gentleness. Many Social Justice issues are wake-up calls to my students. However, our Church preaches gentleness and compassion overall. It would not be following the example of Pope Francis if I did not mention compassion toward those who may have read this and felt that it was too late to practice chastity. Statistics say that teenagers and even children are losing their innocence sooner and sooner. It is with much compassion that I address the beginning of life issues formerly mentioned in this post and even greater compassion that I address chastity. I remind my students, especially when the question of "am I going to hell now?" comes up, of the story of Jesus and the woman caught in the act of adultery. Jesus said, "Let the one without sin be the first to cast the stone." My job as teacher is not to condemn but rather to love the sinner not the sin. Pope Francis encourages us to love unconditionally, without judgement. And so I say this, when talking about chastity, I remind my students that there is always a chance for starting over, for reconciliation. When an expensive piece of jewelry gets chipped or upset in some way, we take it to the jeweler to be fixed and refurnished. Jesus in the Sacrament of Reconciliation is our jeweler, fixing the dents, cracks and scrapes in our pearls of great price. 

    Living out chastity is so difficult in our society today. Many of our Social Justice issues can be traced back to a negligence to practicing chastity, however, now is the perfect time to start anew. Now is the time to begin living out chastity for ourselves and being that example for our young people. Now is the time to start learning about how we can be Social Justice Advocates simply by living out chastity. And of course, now is the time to start promoting healthy dating relationships that lead to beautiful and wholesome marriages. Now is the time to recognize our worth as the pearl of great price. Now is the time to up the price on our price tag! 

Just As Planned (by God)

"Well done, good and faithful servant. 

Come, share in the joy of your master."

- Matthew 25:21

    I do not believe in coincidences or irony; I believe in God-winks. I believe God has such a grander plan, beyond our human understanding, and that He will seemingly make it all work out right. For example, last week when I went to visit Sister Elaine and in my heart's deepest desires, I was longing for the opportunity to pray with my Sisters again. It was all in God's plan that I would wind up sitting there in my favorite Chapel, trying not to giggle my way through prayers with my Sisters and soon after join them for dinner. God's plan. 

     But sometimes our plan doesn't always match up with God's plan. You see my plan was to visit a few of my Sisters after observing at a high school near my college on a professional development day for the school at which I now teach. My plan was to go finally meet my dear Sister Marian, check in with my dear Sister Cathy, and visit a bit with Sister Jane, who they told me was not doing well. That was my plan, to see my girls. But God had a different plan. 

     On Friday, January 16, 2015, God called Sister Jane home. The email announcing her passing went out a few days later and I instantly started crying. I had planned to see her only a few days later, one week exactly after Sister Elaine told me that she was sick. But God had a different plan. Of course, I knew that. I couldn't be upset about God's plan being different than mine because I would live my whole life miserable if I did that. But I did mourn the loss of a dear friend, my dear Sister. 

     As I laid in bed that night, memories of my dear Sister played through my mind like a movie. Sister Jane sat in the pew ahead of me for all four years of my time at Immaculata. A pew ahead and then to the right. She had the middle seat. Every so often, she'd pass me a note before prayers on a yellow sticky, written in perfect cursive pencil. I'm pretty sure I still have the one from one particular snowy day Sophomore year when I showed up very early for Mass. Well, it wouldn't have been early if prayers weren't in silent, but they were and I didn't get the memo. She slipped in gently behind her, then turned to me as I took it, smiled gently and continued her rosary. 

      Every morning we celebrated Mass in the Gillet Convent Chapel, during the sign of peace, she would turn around, shake hands with everyone else and wait for me. When she shook my hand, she always wrapped both her hands around mine, smiled and tilted her head a bit to the right. Every day. Sometimes she would wave over her shoulder when I knelt down behind her. And on Sunday mornings, when she was there for Mass, she would wait until I was walking out of Mass just so she could thank me for singing. In all her gentle ways, she was gracious and prayerful. 

      Of course, there are so many more memories. I can't say how many times she introduced me to all her friends in the cafeteria. She definitely had a lot of friends, who liked ice cream and meeting students. She was a popular lady. I also can't say how many times she cured me of random illnesses. "Sister, I feel nauseous every morning." "Drink water. Eat peanut butter crackers." The next day, I'd be handed a bag of peanut butter crackers. Cured. She always cared so much and would do everything in her power to help a girl (or guy) out. It was those little day to day interactions with her that were always my favorite memories. Her smile. Her gentleness. Her all around beauty. 

     My favorite solo memory though? Well, let me preface this with some basic information. I went to an all girls' high school. By October of my Freshmen year of college, Sister Jane had asked me if I had ever thought of religious life. So, she knew about my high school background and that I was thinking of being a Sister. She had also cured me of two mysterious illnesses. I had apparently been sitting in the cafeteria at a random table surrounded by young men...boys. I didn't think anything of it. However, later, as I was walking across campus, Sister Jane stopped me. She asked me if I was feeling under the weather at all and when I asked why, she responded with the following: Well, I saw you sitting with the boys and I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. I giggled a little and told her about my wholesome, Catholic young boy friends. She gave my hands a squeeze and promised to keep praying for me. 

      I can honestly say that my plan wasn't to fall in love with the Sisters at school or even become good friends with any of them. But God had a different plan and put each Sister into my life in a different way. Sister Jane was a gentle soul who was always looking out for me in little, gentle ways. Her gentle smile could be seen from across campus as I raced to catch up with her or down the hallway from my education classes. Her gentle hands always held mine every time we met. She was a hand-holder like me. She gave great hugs and I knew I could always count on her putting me on the right page if I was lost during Morning Prayers. Sister Jane could be seen coming off the Lourdes elevator and going on some adventure with all of her friends or simply to the convent. Whatever she did, wherever she went, she was gentle. She was, perhaps, one of the most gentle people I have ever met. 

      I hadn't planned to go into Camilla, hug all my Sisters, and cry right away. But I did. Of course, I also didn't plan to find one Sister and kind of dog follow her throughout the viewing. But God planned it perfectly that when I walked through the doors, Sister Mary walked out right in front of me. And she took me into the room where I received many hugs from many of my Sisters. During the Funeral, I was sitting by myself, praying that I'd be able to cry in the comfort of a Sisters presence, and God's plan was that Sister Monica would find me soon after I whispered that prayer. And as I knelt there in prayer, I realized that two years ago prior, we were mourning the loss of another dear sister of mine, Sister Albert. I don't believe in coincidence or irony, but I believe in God's divine plan. I could imagine Sister Marie Albert welcoming Sister Jane home - Sisters. 

     Throughout Mass, I had a steady flow of tears running down my cheeks. Once again realizing that my friends are significantly older than me and this was not a new experience, nor an experience that would expire soon. I mourned in a different way than I'm sure my Sisters did because Sister Jane was someone different for me than she was for them. But Sister Trin said something that truly made me feel still parted of the extended IHM family: "It just wouldn't be right if you weren't here." It was a reminder that I was allowed to cry and to mourn the loss of my friend, my sister. 

     I kept thinking about what Sister Trin said throughout Mass. I kept thinking about home is always where my Sisters are. I kept thinking of all the perfect little moments Sister Jane and I shared. I kept thinking of how I felt so much sadness for not being able to see my Sister and hug her one more time. I was upset that my plans didn't work. But slowly, as I kept reflecting, I realized that I did get to see Sister Jane on the day I planned...just in a very different way. It was at this moment of realization that I looked up the ceiling of Camilla's Chapel. There was one single tile missing. I had tears rolling down my cheeks as I laughed thinking about a song I heard on the radio when I was a child. It's called, "Hole in the Floor of Heaven." Okay, so it wasn't a hole in the floor of heaven, but for me it was. It was a reminder that as much of my life that I didn't plan, God's plan has always triumphed. Yes, as much as my type A personality will hate to admit, God's plan is always better. Sister Jane will always be with me, another guarding angel up in Heaven for me. My plan isn't always the best plan, or the right plan, but God's plan is. I may not always agree, but if I surrender to God's will, I know everything God wants for me, will happen. I got to see my Sister just as planned.  

     My dearest Sister Jane, thank you for every gift of your smiles, your love, your gentleness. I am so blessed to have had you in my life. Ready the way for a homecoming when we meet again (I'll bring the ice cream.). 

A Stable Presence

"Remember, the storm is a good opportunity

for the pine and the cypress to show their strength

and stability."

- Ho Chi Minh

   As Christians, we have often heard the phrases, "there was no room in the Inn," and "born in a stable." If you ask any grade school student they would tell you that Joseph and Mary searched and searched for a place to stay, but there was no vacancy anywhere (okay, they might not use the word vacancy...). This isn't something that we don't know. It's a part of us. Some may give the following interpretation. Maybe you have heard it. 

     The Inns were crowded, much like our hearts. There was no room in the Inns and no room in the hearts of the people for a Savior. Our hearts are so often crowded with the wrong things and much like today, many turned away the Holy Family. They wanted nothing to do with these two poor, young people about to give birth. Was it because of scandal? Was it because it was too late in the night? Was it because no one wanted to deal with a new born baby? No one can say. But what is known is that Jesus wasn't wanted in the Inns. Joseph and Mary found a stable and later that night, Jesus was born there, among the lowly. He was born into poverty and thus, has always been the poor people's Man. How true that the crowded Inns can be symbolic of those who have too much and no room for the Savior! How true that Jesus was friends with the sinners, the poor, the forgotten. Heck, no one was celebrating the night with the animals, were they? How true that today, it is the same, that those suffering of poverties of all types, have seemingly more room for the Savior. 

     As a child, teen and young adult, I have become so accustomed to this interpretation of the story. I have learned to love it and make it a part of who I am. I have adopted the phrase, "Manger in My Heart." I have believed that my heart, though it may be little, may have room for the Savior if I open the doors. I do know this to be true. I have made room for the stable. But it wasn't until this last Christmas that I realized I was only half way there. 

     I was sitting in a half full church on Christmas Eve with my family. All afternoon and into the night, people had posted statuses about full and packed churches and so, I was wondering where all the people were. One of my favorite memories of Christmas Eve is looking down from the Choir Loft and seeing so many people - a church packed. Yet, this Christmas, there was plenty of room. I thought to myself, well if Mary and Joseph came here that first Christmas Eve, there would be tons of room for them in this little lowly church. (Turns out, I missed the memo that there was an earlier Mass at the other church...oops.) Yes, I was thinking, even then, as if I had been trained to, about the room in the Inns. 

       The readings were yet again familiar to me, ones that I have eternally etched in my heart. There was seemingly nothing "new" about this Christmas Eve celebration. That was until Deacon John began his homily. "Inns were meant for people who come and go; people who only are visiting," is a line that has stuck with me since and will be the mantra of my lifestyle this year. I am amazed at what that little realization has done for my heart:

     Deacon was so right when he said that Inns are meant for those only visiting. Think about it: we don't live in hotels. We rent a room or two when our families go on vacation, when we are visiting in a new area for a days, when we are away on business. But, we don't stay for a very long time (probably because it would be very expensive). You check in and check out. Deacon went on further to explain that Jesus didn't come just for a visit. He came to save the world. He came to stay for a while and change the world while He was here. That's why the Inns weren't suitable for Him; they are for visitors, one of which He was not. At the end of Deacon's homily, I felt enriched. Of course, my heart and mind were reflecting on this notion for the rest of the Mass. But at one moment in one of the Eucharistic prayers, Father said something about being born in a stable. Jesus, that is, being born in a stable. STABLE. 

     As a lover of words, my mind suddenly realized an AWESOME play on words. There are two definitions of the word, stable. First, a noun, the place where animals are kept. Two, an adjective, not likely to change or fail; fully established. Deacon said that Jesus didn't come as a visitor; He came to stay. HE WAS BORN IN A STABLE BECAUSE HE CAME TO BE A STABLE PRESENCE. Now, admittedly, sometimes beautiful words make me cry. The word stable suddenly had me in tears at Communion. Jesus came to be stable, always present. Suddenly I realized that little kid me, who had made a manger in my heart was only half way there. Adult me realized that the manger in my heart needed to stay all year long; Christmas isn't just a "visitor," it is a stable celebration. 

     Now, some may ask why I waited until two weeks post-Christmas to write this post, but the truth is, Christmas isn't over. According to the Church calendar, Ordinary Time doesn't start for another week. So if someone says that Christmas is over...boom, no it's not. But also, here's the thing: I went to the food store a few days after Christmas and I was disturbed by the amount of chocolate filled hearts and teddy bears in red and pink ribbons that surrounded the entrance to the store. Valentine's Day? In the commercial USA, Christmas is over on Christmas Day and Valentine's Day takes over the very next day. Christmas has become a visitor when Christmas is meant to be stable. 

      Today is the Feast of the Three Kings. I love this feast as it is sometimes referred to "Little Christmas." It is on this day we remember the relentless searching for the Child by the Three Wise Men/Kings. What is the time lapse between the birth of the baby and the finding of the Child in the Stable, I'm not sure. But we know that it wasn't right immediately after the birth of Christ. Christ was visited by the shepherds first, then the kings. Just like any birth, we don't stop celebrating the baby the day after their birth. It doesn't go: "Oh congrats, new baby....moving on." It goes more like this: "Oh new baby...oh new baby...oh new baby....oh new baby." The Kings remind us of this notion: that Christmas is meant to last a while. Christmas isn't meant to be a visitor holiday. It's meant to be something of stability in our hearts. 

      Jesus wasn't born in an Inn; there was no room. There was no room for another family of visitors. Yet, there was room in a stable, where the Savior would be born. The Savior, who intended not to come for a visit but rather to stay, the be stable. To be the source of stability in our lives. We have those days when we wonder what is stable. For me they happen all too often. But I know these things to be true: my family and my faith are my sources of stability. Jesus is my stability. Has been from day one and will continue to be. He is my stable presence. 

The Long Awaited God Wink

"Everyday we find something new,

well this day I found you. 

I found love and joy all in one. 

You sent me back to where I once was.

There just ain't nothing else that compares."

- Trevor Hall, "You Find Me."

It has been over a month since I've written, and while some bloggers might apologize to their followers, I have to apologize to myself. Writing is often a form of prayer, a form of thanksgiving for blessings received, and I haven't stopped for a month to write. Of course, I know how long it's been since I've written because technology tells me. But what technology can't tell me is how long it's been since I've gone to daily Mass with the Sisters or how long it's been since I've prayed Morning Prayer with them. All I know is that my heart says it's been too long. 

    I told my students the Friday before I left that I had been waiting months to leave for Peru. In fact, my count down app told me that it was 74 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes the day I bought my ticket. It was so close but it wasn't close enough. However, to be completely honest, my job had me so busy that I really didn't have time to count down day by day. Occasionally, I would check the app and get giddy at the shortened length of time I had to wait. I got more and more excited as the days passed. Suddenly, it was the last day I needed to wait. I found myself telling story after story to my students. I found myself counting down the hours before I could leave the parking lot. I finished packing when I got home and started my adventure by going to the Mass for Our Lady of Guadalupe in Spanish. There was no better way to begin. 

    As I walked through the security at the airport after having checked my bags, reality began to hit me. In a few hours, I would be on a plane destined for my favorite country in the world in which lived a plethora of my favorite people. I sat in the airport waiting and waiting. I was surrounded by people who were waiting. All of us were waiting for something: to go home, to see loved ones, for a plane to arrive, for lunch to be served, for a business deal to be made, for a phone call, for a birthday wish. Waiting is always something that permeates airports and it was definitely permeating my heart. However, while I thought I was waiting for the plane to arrive to take me to Peru, there was a different waiting hiding in the deep crevices of my heart. 

      There is so much that happened on my adventure to Peru. I offered so many hours of service to various schools, I spent time with my dear Sisters, I met the families of some of the Sisters at the Christmas Gathering, I went shopping with a new friend, I attended the graduation of my CSA Students, I took a bus and got a little lost in a city I have loved for so long, I convent-hopped like a champ, I did so much more. But I also had many conversations with my Sisters, I joined them for daily Mass, I joined them for prayers, I walked arm in arm with them, I walked hand in hand with them, I held their hands during the Padre Nuestra, I celebrated life with them and I discerned with them. I served right next to them. I was a part of their love, their service, their lives. I was home. 

     Life has taken a road of different scenery in these past months. Now, don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful scenery, something familiar, yet untouched for so many years. Yes, I've ventured out and experienced a lot of things different than what I have been used to. Yes, it's been worth the journey. But there always has seemed like there was something missing. The literal scenery changed when I got to Peru, but suddenly, I was back with my Sisters. I had been away from them for so long and finally, I was back, I was home. There was nothing more than that that I needed. Even if days were short and I did nothing more than go to Mass, pray, eat lunch with them, that was all I needed. My heart had been waiting the simplicity of their lives. 

     While so much had happened on my trip, there are two experiences that will always remain with me. Number one: my Montenegro adventure. There really are not enough words to describe the love that permeates the streets there. I got on an unfamiliar bus, rode to a place I had only visited twice, and walked the streets as if I had lived there for years. When my feet hit the dirt roads, there was something so overtly wonderful about the place. I looked to the hills and felt love. Sister George told me to go find my heart, the heart which I had left in Peru. I find it, Sister. I found it once again. But unfortunately, I left it there again. Between the bilingual conversations, my appreciation for the silence in my heart, and seeing the beautiful children at the posada, I couldn't have been happier. But I think the happiness was also present in the small convent community room while enjoying popcorn and homemade hot chocolate while watching CNN with the Sisters. It was present in the extra blanket left on my bed because it got chilly. It was present in the little chapel on the second floor with a beautiful view of a lit village on the hill. It was present in the front rose garden with it's freshly cut grass. It was present in the causa for lunch. I was happy there. My heart was so happy. 

      When I left Montenegro, there was a sadness in my heart. I was very quiet on the way back to Miraflores (and no, not just because Spanish was the main language in the care that day). I watched the hills fade behind me. I was still so filled with happiness, not just from my visit there, but from my time spent in all of Peru with so many of my Sisters. Before I knew it, I found myself in a little chapel I had never visited before - the one at Villa Maria, Miraflores. Sister Liz, my dear friend, ushered me to the chapel, just as she had many times before. I sat in the Chapel and within seconds, I had tears streaming down my cheeks. All my fears, my happiness, my doubts, my worries, my signs and confirmations came swelling out of my heart at once. I spoke right to Jesus...and even though it's been a while, He still listened. Suddenly, Sister Liz was back and with a gentle arm around my shoulders, she held me close like the big sister she is. She took me to the tabernacle, but my hands on the door, put hers on top of mine and prayed as so many of the others had - for my discernment. Of course, I didn't stop crying. 

       We went from there to Mass in the church down the street. I was sandwiched between two of my Sisters who graciously held my hands during the Padre Nuestra. I was exactly where I was meant to be because it was there that I had realized what I had been waiting for: God's confirmation. I hadn't prayed with my Sisters in such a long time...I was back where I was meant to be. It was the most perfect place to be. I had felt a change in heart, a change in scenery, back to the familiar and the amazing.

      I still had two nights in Peru at that point and those next two nights were the perfect nights. They involved pj parties with the nuns over two great movies, more prayer, more discernment in the day to day life. It was a busy time for me to visit because it was Christmas and the closing of the school year. At the airport before I left, one of the Sisters said she was sorry she couldn't have spent more time with me because it was such a busy time. I had no idea what she was talking about. I came not asking to be entertained, but to serve where God needed me to serve and to share the life of my Sisters for the week. What I needed was a week of prayer with my Sisters. What my heart had been waiting for was those simple moments of small conversations, daily hugs and kisses, the knowledge of permeating love. There was nothing more that I could have asked for. Those small moments with each of my Sisters were what my heart needed - a reminder of what I have been called to do. 

    I didn't cry when I said my good-byes, I cried when I woke up and saw the most beautiful sunrise from the window seat 25F. I cried then because I realized how much love I had just left behind. I had left my heart in Peru again. In fact, I think it has a permanent spot there with my Sisters. I cried because of how much God had spoke to my little heart in such little time. It was simply amazing how wonderfully blessed I felt. The reverse culture shock, that is, the shock of not having five beautiful women of God right next door or down the hallway, was the hardest adjustment. Even now, I am suffering from the reality that they are not with me. Yet, I know they are always in my heart. I love them each so much, more than can ever imagine, and I am grateful for the prayerful week they gave me. 

      In all my waiting, I felt a small solidarity with Mary and Joseph who had awaited the birth of their Son for so long. However, the difference was that they were blessed with the birth of a baby. Me on the other hand, experienced a re-birth of God in my soul, happiness in my heart and knowledge of the future. I could not thank my Sisters enough for being the pathway through which God reach me. It was a long awaited God wink and it only took me 9 days in a country, almost 4000 miles away, for me to realize that not only had God always been there, but that I needed a re-birth. And now, to live for Jesus with this renewed spirit of mine. 

     To all of my Sisters in Peru, thank you for the gift of your hugs, kisses, time and words. I could not possibly thank you enough for all the love you showed me this past week. It was a perfect discernment week in a perfect place with some perfect people. I love you each so much, and yes, I already miss you. Feliz Navidad y Prospero Ano Nuevo. 

Fluff Removal

"If the person you are talking to doesn't appear to be listening, 

be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear."

- A.A. Milne, "Winnie-the-Pooh

     A few weeks ago, I was asked to give a talk to middle school students at an EDGE program. I was asked to speak about vocations and my personal discernment journey. As I was preparing for this talk, I was struggling with how to relate this to the students. Of course, it wasn't until I arrived there that I thought of how I could do it. I usually relate communication with God to music as there is usually at least one student who plays an instrument. While I did that, I also related it to one of my favorite Winnie-the-Pooh quotes. 

     Winnie-the-Pooh has always been a favorite of mine to quote. Of course, Pooh has even more significance as I get older. He not only reminds me of one of my closest Sisters but he also seems more and more relatable. And whenever he pops up, I feel like I am getting a special sign from God. So, because he is so familiar to me, I felt it was perfect to share with the students the above quotation. 

     I told the students about the quotation and I said that sometimes God is speaking to us but we have fluff in our ears. I asked them to imagine having an earache and having the cotton ball the nurse gives us in our ear. Remember the feeling that you know someone is speaking but you can't really hear them that well? Well, that's how fluff is. But sometimes some people have more fluff than other people. Pooh has warned against this fluff stuff. And our God is so patient that He understands when we have fluff in our ears. He speaks and waits for us to remove the fluff. Although, sometimes we even need help removing the fluff.

     I want to go back to Winnie and one of my closest Sisters. I'm not sure why but she loves Winnie-the-Pooh. As I went through my college years, I began to feel more and more like a Piglet to her Winnie-the-Pooh. Piglet is always unsure of things and Pooh always has the answers. Pooh always had something of significance to say, even if it sometimes didn't make sense. He was confident in whatever he said, confident in whatever he did, confident in who he was. And of course, he was patient. He was so because he recognized that sometimes fluff happens. Sister was always that figure of Pooh to me. And I was always Piglet. My favorite Piglet/Pooh conversation? "Piglet sidled up to Pooh. 'Pooh?' he whispered? 'Yes, Piglet?' 'Nothing, I just wanted to be sure of you.'" Sometimes we don't need words, we just need to be sure of one another. And I always felt like I needed to be sure that Sis would always be there for me. 

     So, when I started telling the students about having fluff in their ears and not being able to hear God's words clearly, I began to also hear Sis say, "remove the fluff from your own ear." I'm not sure if that's something she would say, but I could imagine her relating my current spiritual distress to Pooh in some way, shape, or form. And because that quotation was so fresh in my mind, I figured she might equate it to the fluff in my own ears. I told the students that God is always speaking to us, we just simply need to listen. And even if we listen really, really, really hard, if we have fluff in our ears, His voice won't be clear.

     A few weeks before I gave this EDGE talk, I had signed up for a silent, private retreat. I had been searching for silence. As an introvert, I need silence and alone time to function. However, I am in a profession and ministry that surrounds me with people. I love it, don't get me wrong, but it had been seemingly difficult to find some silence and alone time. So, out of spiritual desperation, I signed up for a silent retreat. Confirmations from God always happen in threes for me. So I had called another Sister friend and asked her about her suggestion for a silent retreat. She mentioned the place where I had just booked my retreat. I then went to one of the Sisters with whom I work and asked for her suggestion. She said the same place. My third confirmation came later when my Dad told me that my grandfather with whom I had been very close in my early years, had often went there for retreat. I knew I was meant to go there. I knew that my needs for silence and for a retreat was real. 

     It has been a while since I've been on retreat and so it was time for one. I felt I needed silence, not necessarily a directed, silent, retreat, but just silence. I was ready and excited to go and be away from all the confusing, conflicting, exciting, energetic aspects of my life, because truly in the past few months, things have just built and built. I knew this because I know myself. But when I was speaking to the students, I realized, my confusion was probably coming from not being able to listen and hear God clearly. My own confusion was coming from having a small (or rather large) piece of fluff in my ears. And so, in a few minutes, after the final bell of the day rings, I am going to embark on my journey to a silent retreat. I have packed a few prayer books, my bible, my journal, some looseleaf, some snuggly pjs but most importantly, I have my walking boots. The only thing I plan on doing aside from participating in liturgy, is walking and walking pretty far. I will walk in silence to a place where I can remove the fluff and finally, hear God's voice clearly again. As I've told a few people, I'm going on retreat to figure out life. But in reality, I never will. Only God knows His plan for me. 

     And so, as I embark on this journey for the weekend, I have reached out and asked people if they have any special intentions they would like me to carry with me. My students, co-workers and friends have filled two pages back to back of intentions. I will carry your intentions with me as well. My journey begins in about ten minutes. I'll start be grabbing a Chestnut Praline Latte for the long car ride and I will be on my way. You're in my prayers. And to give you your own experience of silence, I'm not adding a song this time. Enjoy. 

Princesses and Super-Heroines

"We are all made in the image and likeness of God.

God in king. If we are made in His likeness, we, too, are royalty. 

Let's learn to treat each other as such."

- Miss G

    Yesterday was my very first day of teaching my very first official class. It's been a day that I have been waiting for...for, well, as long as I can remember. I was like a little kid on Christmas morning. For what seems like forever, I have wanted to teach. I remember teaching my stuffed animals, my younger sisters, my peers and realizing that I must be called to be a teacher. As I started my college career and taking education classes, that realization turned into a dream and now, it's a reality. The margins of all my notebooks in college were covered in random lesson plan ideas and brainstorming for ways to present various types of material. I would think of something and write it down to save it for my eventual classes. All last week, ideas were busting out of every single crevice of my brain and onto the paper. However, the idea I had for my very first class came from a conference that I attended a while back and a Christian singer-songwriter. I'd like to share that with you now. 

     The name of the song is "Hello, My Name Is...." written by Matthew West (listen below). I had heard the song many, many times but it simply was another good song on KLOVE. That was until I found myself at the Women of Faith Conference during which Matthew West was performing. He presented to us the inspiration behind his latest album: other people's stories. And behind the story of this particular song is a young man Jordan who used to introduce himself as "Hello, my name is Jordan and I'm a drug addict." The story was about Jordan's addiction to painkiller drugs after a brutal accident on the field. After some therapy and rehab, however, Jordan can now proudly introduce himself in this way, "Hello, my name is Jordan and I am a Child of the Risen King." This concept got me truly thinking and honestly, I spent the next hour jotting down an activity for my class rather than listening to the next speaker. Here's what I came up with:

      The class I teach is titled, Catholic Social Teaching. For those of you who know me, you know that CST is one of my biggest passions for many reasons but mostly because it provides me with an outlet to be a very loud and proud, Catholic, woman. CST is often referred to the Church's Best Kept Secret. There's no question about it that many Catholics in today's day and age do not know about it. However, our present Pope is doing a awful lot to promote it. The first thing that everyone needs to know about CST is that it begins and ends with Human Dignity. Human Dignity is not something we are all often mindful of. Human Dignity is expressed in the way we smile or don't smile at people we pass by, the way we drive, the way we treat those by which we are surrounded, those who would not necessarily give attention to, etc. Labels are things that often inhibit us from expressing human dignity because instead of referring to someone by their name, we refer to them by their negative attributes. In the example of Jordan: he was referred to as the Drug Addict, not Jordan. 

     And so, I encouraged the students to write down their names on some "Hello, my name is..." stickers. Then I asked them to write a negative attribute that they associate with or a sin that they often battle with. I suggested words like regret, lack of self-esteem, quiet, etc. We listened to the song and then I asked if anyone wanted to share their labels. Afterward, I played the video for them. In the story, there's a theme of redemption. At the end, Jordan says, "I no longer say, 'I am a drug addict' but rather, 'Hello, my name is Jordan and a child of the one true King." I had the girls then write positive labels for each other. Labels that would recognize their human dignity. Then again, I asked for anyone to share. One student said, "I wrote down sheepish for my negative. And she wrote 'leader of the herd.'" It was so perfect. 

     I later went on to explain that we are all made in the image and likeness of God. God is the King...He is royalty. Therefore we are made in the image and likeness of royalty, thus, making us all princes and princesses. They all really liked that concept. But the curve ball was this: WE ARE ALL...so why are there instances when we don't treat others like the princes and princesses we are? If we believe we are princesses and request to be treated as princesses, why can we not fulfill the same requests of our brothers and sisters, our fellow princes and princesses? It was a thought provoking conversation and we left the classroom thinking about being princesses and treating others just the same. 

      My next day's lesson began with a creative writing prompt. The prompt read: create a super-heroine and describe her character. Explain how she promotes human dignity and why that is a super power. Of course, I asked a few students to share. After that I professed that each of us could easily be that super-heroine. We each have the super-powers to promote human dignity. Even if we don't wear a crown or a cape, we are still princesses and super-heroines. 

      While it may sound pretty cheesy to teach this to 17 and 18 year old girls, the truth of the matter is this: as kids we pretended to be princesses and super-heroines. We really believed that we could do that. So...why can't we do it anymore? Why can't we treat each other like the royalty that we are? We can't we start saving the world little by little to promote human dignity? I don't see why not...We need to go back to the beliefs we had as children, as little girls. Children have the deepest belief of God and goodness...we need to go back to that. 

     And so...think about your labels. Transform them into prince or princess, super-hero or heroine. Realize that all of those surrounding you are royalty, made in the image and likeness of God, the King. Treat each other like royalty, with dignity, with truth and with justice. Simple be kind and love. 

(Halloween) Masks

"People seldom change. Only their masks do.

It is only our perception of them and the perception

they have of themselves that actually change."

- Shannon L. Alder

     Conversations in the faculty lunchroom can be anything from the latest episode of some tv show to the lunch offerings for the day to the upcoming festivities. Today, it was a little bit of all three, but with a main emphasis on the next holiday, namely, Halloween. As talk concerned various Halloween costumes, records being broken, Halloween memories and so much more, I began to think about masks. Recently I had been reflecting on how exhausting it is to "keep face." And in the spirit of Halloween, I figured I would share those instances of reflection for you.

      We all wear masks. Some people confuse hats with masks. They say some times I am a teacher, some times I am a mother, a sister, a daughter, etc. Those are not masks. They are, for sure, hats. So what are masks? Masks are appearing happy when you're really sad, appearing sweet and innocent but actually being not so nice, appearing as a prankster but actually hating the spotlight, etc. Masquerades allowed people of all social classes to interact with one another at a celebration. Masks allowed people to hide who they were. Masks still hide who we are.

     Whether we choose to acknowledge it or not, we all wear masks at some point in our life, if not most of our lives. We put on masks when we are meeting new people. We put on masks with the people we know, although some times they can see straight through our masks. We put on masks in our jobs, in our homes, in our social gatherings. We put masks on to protect ourselves against vulnerability. Masks are some times equated to armor; they will protect but instead they do everything but. 

      Masks. I wear them. Some times my mask comes in the form of words like, "I'm just tired." "It's been a long day." or even, "I'm just not feeling good." Some times my masks come in the form of humor, a cheesy smile, or music. Some times my masks come in the form of a closed door to my office or my bedroom. Some times even in the form of a simple excuse of "I'm going out to take pictures....far, far, far away." Yes. I wear masks. I've always been an actress, I've always been able to do it. But recently I've been realizing something. It's hard keeping face; it's hard being someone you're not. 

     Something about myself that I've known for a very long time is that I don't trust people right away with me. I have a sense of baby-like trust with people concerning everything but my emotions, my thoughts, my feelings. It takes me a very long time to even tell people that I'm upset about something....a little something. I usually become very quiet and call it a day. But in doing that, in holing up and becoming quiet, one begins to bottle things up. One becomes a jar of empty, negative feelings. And just like any mixture of emotions bottled up, it's bound to explode one day. 

      If we look at the picture above, we see an interpretation of a mask. One thing I focused on right away when I first saw it was the very concept that the man is holding the mask. If you're anything like me, holding up a mask like that for a long period of time might be considered strenuous activity. Seriously. Imagine holding your arms up for a long while. At some point, you're going to want to put it down. At some point, holding up your mask is going to get tiring. It might turn toward strenuous activity. It's exhausting trying to keep your face. 

      Last week, I was feeling incredibly tired and I couldn't quite grasp why. I was getting enough sleep, I was getting my morning coffee, I was doing things that were healthy and energizing. Yet, I was tired. But also last week, I felt like I was putting on a mask. You see, even though I've been walking daily into the same setting with the same people for the past two and a half months, I don't feel like I can quite be wholly me yet. Wholly me is this: a sassy, little, princess-like person with a fresh air of Catholic devotion to all things. Wholly me is someone who feels deeply in all aspects of feelings. Wholly me is someone who loves to sing and perform. Wholly me is someone is simple, basic, honest. But when I feel threatened in any way, shape or form, or if I can't wholly trust people yet, I suddenly feel like I can't be me. I can't be silly, I can't be simply happy, I can't be who I was meant to be. I put on a mask. 

      I realized after a while that a big part of the reason why I was so exhausted was because I was holding up a mask. I realized I was so tired because I was trying to keep up a subtle persona and not be extravagant me. Because wholly me is also very extravagant...I walk with an aura of pizazz. I walk with an air of EVERYTHING IS WONDERFUL IF WE LET BE. Normally...unless I'm wearing a mask. And honestly, it was more tiring to not be energetic than it was to be energetic. 

      Keeping face is exhausting. Walking around in shoes or outfits or wigs that we aren't used to wearing on Halloween, is exhausting (especially after the candy coma). Just so, wearing a figurative mask is exhausting, too. It's hard to always seem like everything is fine or that you're a different person than you really are. The problem comes when we are so attached to our masks that we lose who we truly are. We forget our silliness or our strength or our emotions. It's tiring, it's exhausting, it's strenuous. 

     So my challenge is this, to both myself and to you: after Halloween today, put your masks away for a little bit. Try to be who you really are. Try to be confident. A great person once reminded me that all we need is 20 seconds of courage and we can be all that we need to be. So, after today, I'm taking off my masks. I'm going to take some risks. I'm going to be me.