A Moment of Honesty

This post is for those of us struggling with quarantine and feeling guilty about it. If you’re like me, you’ve probably been vacillating between knowing how much quarantine has troubled you, but trying to shush yourself since there are other people out there with “real problems”. Well guess what, every problem is a real problem, so welcome, my troubled friend.

When it comes to my interior movement these days, there's not even a back and forth I can describe - no going between two different emotions like a high and a low. No, I'm just all over the place.

Some days I'm mad; other days I'm content and can see God at work even in the mess. And then other days I feel like an ungrateful first world brat because I'm constantly complaining about my own discomfort. Sometimes I even get to experience all of that in a single day. But every day I start over by reminding myself that it's okay to feel whatever I'm feeling and that minimizing my hurt isn't going to help anyone. In fact, it would only be detrimental to me and the people around me (or in front of me on a screen).

While I may not be working on the front lines accompanying the sick and dying, or losing loved ones from across the miles without a chance to say goodbye, there are losses and challenges in my own daily life that I must acknowledge, even as I work from home, virus-free and well-fed. My pain doesn't have to look like somebody else's pain to count, and neither does yours.

I first started to notice that I was feeling angry after spending two weeks in quarantine. I came back to my convent in Pittsburgh halfway through March after traveling to California for a few different events. As I left California, schools, restaurants and movie theaters slowly began to close their doors.

Upon arriving in Pittsburgh, I spent 14 days in quarantine because the sister I live with is immunocompromised. She stayed at another convent while I stayed at ours alone. At first I thought I would enjoy it and that I’d finally have a chance to catch up on all the sleep and downtime I could have ever dreamed of. Instead, I found myself staying awake until the sun came up on some nights and simply waiting for the days to end because every hour felt heavy and empty all at once.

I went from spending time with people constantly to having absolutely no human interaction except for the single day I went to the grocery store. Even as an introvert I felt myself drained of all energy. I was fed up with Zoom calls already and didn’t even want to respond to texts or phone calls anymore. I have never experienced clinical depression, but I’m pretty sure that was the closest I have ever come. And all it took was 14 days.

It was hard to understand why I felt so lethargic, but looking back on it, I realize I was grieving. I had just lost my life in the way I had known it for the 33 years I’ve been alive. Not only that, but going from constant interaction to zero interaction was like jumping into a water so cold it lunged at every cell in my body. If the coronavirus could attack the lungs of my heart, that’s what it felt like.

Not only did my calendar go empty - which was once so full I could barely understand how I actually made it to appointments without double-booking myself - but my days did as well. For 14 days I had absolutely no reason to get up in the morning. Since I am a religious sister, people might wonder, “Isn’t Jesus your reason for getting up every day?” Well yes, but for me the idea of Jesus being present “where two or three are gathered together in [his] name” is very much a reality (Mt. 18:20). I may be an introvert, but I love people because I find the Jesus I love among them.

My days were empty of activity, which meant they were empty of people, which in turn made me feel like they were empty of purpose. I was grateful for God’s invitation during this time to look at my days and how I spent them - not just in the past, but in the present. It brought to mind thoughts and questions around the idea of meaning and purpose. Having a full calendar and days overflowing with activity once told me I had a purpose. As all of that disappeared, how was I supposed to believe my life still had purpose? I knew it was a chance for transformation, and yet it was still very painful.

When it was time for the sister I live with to return home, my mixed emotions continued. I wanted company, but her return to our convent wasn’t going to change anything. It made me angry. Fortunately for me she is very patient and understanding because she was the only one around and thus became the object of my frustration.

Throughout Holy Week I continued to fume about all that was disappearing in my life - friend’s weddings, vocation events, gatherings in new and exciting places, a spiritual retreat in the desert, time with my family in New Mexico, outings of any kind - while at the same time feeling like I shouldn’t complain since other people had bigger problems. But when the resurrection of Easter began to uncurl the tightness in my chest, I could begin to see my own “problems” were also very real. Slowly, very slowly, I started to acknowledge the losses and let go. It was like watching new life take root after a forest fire even as the ash is still falling.

Contemplating the process of a caterpillar becoming a butterfly began to help me understand transformation on a deeper level. What first stood out to me was how the caterpillar becomes an absolute mess in the cocoon. Kirstin Vanlierde describes it well in a post on medium.com entitled, “A Little Story on Death and Resurrection”: In order to become a butterfly, the caterpillar has to fall apart completely, decompose down to its very essence, devoid of any shape or consciousness. It literally dies. There is nothing left of it. And from this ... essence, the butterfly starts to put itself together, from scratch.

I had no problem identifying with that. There was a darkness in this time that seemed to be both painful and healing. It was causing me to question everything, down to whether or not my life had any purpose anymore; but it was also helping me to value life in ways I never had.

Secondly, I once heard that sometimes caterpillars delay their process of becoming a chrysalis. For whatever reason, when the time comes they do not begin the process and can even put it off for up to a year. Do they know what’s coming? Do they know they will be completely undone? Maybe they sense a change in the air and, like most of us, do whatever they can to avoid it.

This time, though, none of us could avoid the change. We couldn’t even try to delay it. Here we are now, in a global cocoon, with our lives coming undone.

We have all lost something. Maybe it’s health, maybe a loved one or a friend, maybe a “right of passage” ceremony, like graduation or Baptism. So let yourself grieve. Your loss doesn’t have to be the same as someone else’s loss to be painful. You’re allowed to be angry, hurt, disappointed, scared, lonely, anxious, sad, or any other kind of emotion labeled as “negative”. Allow the arteries of your spirit to open up so that healing can begin. Maybe some days we will experience depression unlike anything we’ve ever felt; maybe some days we’ll feel a hope as real and grand as the sun itself. No matter what, every day is a day closer to healing.

Maybe we’ll never arrive at the life we once had, but we’ll arrive somewhere. The caterpillar doesn’t know what’s on the other side of its cocoon, and we don’t know what’s on the other side of ours - but if God’s patterns reveal themselves time and again in nature, then coming undone completely means eventually we’ll get to fly.

Sister Desiré Anne-Marie Findlay

The End of Doubt

Kate Buckley Photography

After nine years of prayer, formation and formal discernment, I made my final vows with the Felician Sisters on August 15, 2019. Those years flew by like clouds on a windy day, but they were meaningful and packed to the brim with experiences and people who helped to shape me. Even after those very full nine years, I still couldn't be 100% sure that I was ready to say "yes" forever. I was about 90% sure, however, that I didn't want to say "no". I had been living this religious life for nine years and I couldn't imagine myself doing or being anything different.

In preparation for the big day, we spent several weeks throughout the year in prayer and conversation. It was a year of reflection, but even the day before the day I thought to myself, "This final vow ceremony is pretty much just a formality. I've been living the vows for six years already, and nothing changes after this. I'll still be doing what I've been doing and living where I've been living. It's no big deal." Oh, but it was a big deal.

When we processed into the chapel at the start of Mass, joy flooded my heart with wave after wave of

Kate Buckley Photography

smiling faces. Parents, siblings, family from miles away, friends, sisters from other congregations, sisters from my own congregation, people from my Pomona family - they were all there, and they were there to support and encourage me as they had all along the way. I was so excited I couldn't even cry, but I'm crying now just recalling that moment. All these eyes connected with mine, but our hearts had been intertwined long ago. Almost 100 people came to celebrate, and Jesus was certainly in our midst. Not just another body in the crowd, He was the pulse of it - the branch connecting all the vines with mutual love and excitement.

I don't remember much else, but I do remember that I wholeheartedly enjoyed the music. I'm a dancer by nature, but I fervently sang along to songs that had been a part of my journey from the beginning and songs that had connected me with my sisters over time. Basically I was just enjoying a rather fancy and personalized Mass; but then came the reception of the ring. I stood at the front of the chapel while the priest held up a simple silver ring. I'm sure he said something very profound and I probably responded with "Amen" but all I really know is that as soon as the ring made its way onto my finger, a sudden and slow explosion began to go off in my mind.

Kate Buckley Photography

About 50 different thoughts came at me as soon as I received that ring. For one, I realized that I had been subconsciously keeping myself aware of all the options still available to me prior to that very day. Up until that moment, I had subconsciously been saying to myself, "This isn't forever yet. I can still choose to pursue anything. I could travel, get married, have kids, anything." However, as I watched that little silver ring slide onto my finger something else became apparent: out of all the options out there, I chose this one. I could have chosen anything else, but I didn't.

As I continue to reflect on that moment, I realize that I was not only living with an awareness of other options, I was living as if I might choose one of them instead. I loved my community from the beginning, and felt all along that God had been inviting me here, but even then I hadn't fully given myself all of those years. Not only was I holding onto those other options subconsciously, but I was living them subliminally. I was not going on dates or flirting, of course, but neither was I 100% invested in my call to religious life. I was living it knowing that it could potentially be temporary, halfheartedly showing up to prayers and never giving a thought to how it affected others. That ring changed everything.

It makes me think of the Catholic Church's firm stance on couples not living together before they get married. I always knew it was important, but I never really paid attention to why it mattered so much. With this new understanding of commitment, I'm finally "getting it". When two people live together before marriage, they know in the back of their minds that the person they're with is still just one option out of many. They may not say that out loud, but it's subconscious, and so at some level they will live that way, too. It may not come in the form of physical betrayal, but it's hard to invest oneself fully in a commitment when it still just remains an option. At the same time, the other person knows that they remain simply one option out of many. Thus, marriage becomes a way for a couple to say to one another, "Out of all the options out there, I choose you. I choose to give myself fully to you and to nothing and no one else."

My little ring has become a symbol of just that. On August 15th I said to God, "Out of all the options out there, I choose you. I choose to give myself fully to you and to nothing and no one else." So here I am, committed to no one and everyone all at once, serving through the charism of my beloved congregation. Where will it lead me? I have no idea, but I am content in knowing that "I have found the One whom my soul loves" (Song of Solomon 3:4).

Kate Buckley Photography

An Easter Poem

Love Reborn

Darkness lies solemn upon the earth

And yet, new light

A death

A birth

Silence spreads slowly across the sky

A long, deep breath

A fall

A rise

Fire breaks softly inviting the day

Whispers of hope

A cross

A way

Glory runs swiftly toward the tomb

Mary finds life

A cave

A womb

God speaks boldly humanity’s truth

The Spirit burns on

In me

In you

Sister Desiré Anne-Marie Findlay

4-29-19

The Heart of a Mother

I love giving vocation talks, not because I'm trying to recruit young women to religious life, but because a lot of young people are curious about the lives of Sisters and don't always have a chance to ask us questions. The Q&A portion is my favorite part of a vocation talk. I get questions as simple as "Are you allowed to listen to any kind of music?" and questions as complicated as "Don't you want to have children?" This second question is the one I sat down to write about today.

When I ask a young woman whether or not she has considered the possibility of religious life, if she says, "No," it's often followed by, "Because I want to get married and have children." Oddly enough, a lot of Sisters I know said the very same thing when someone had asked them the very same question. Despite all the gender stereotype and social construct arguments, I do believe that our bodies are deeply connected to our souls. The womb of a woman is not just another body part, but is central and sacred, even the womb of a woman physically unable bear children. The space within us tells us that we are bearers of life, that we can carry another human being within ourselves. It makes sense, then, that a young woman's hesitation to religious life would be the relinquishing of such a gift. But is it something we actually relinquish?

This reminds me of the story of Abraham, called to return his son to the Lord by sacrificing him. That's how I felt about dance once upon a time. I thought that once I entered the convent there would be no dancing, that it would be a gift I would have to sacrifice and return to God. Instead, it has been returned to me and its blessing upon my life has increased a hundredfold, just like God promising Abraham "descendants as countless as the stars" because he was willing to let go of that which he held dear (Gen. 22:17). I think it's the same for a woman who cherishes her life-bearing abilities and yet decides to live out the religious vow of chastity. Many of us enter religious life thinking, "I would love to have children, but this is where I am called, and so I am willing to make this sacrifice." In the end, though, I am starting to see that much like Abraham, we too receive descendants as countless as the stars.

I didn't think too often about having children until I was a novice and my sister was pregnant with her first child. The mystery and excitement of it all paralleled a deep sadness that began to run through me. Being the older sister by only a few years, my younger sister and I had always been very close. I had often experienced life's challenges first which gave me the ability to help guide her through similar challenges later. That was not the case this time. I couldn't understand what she was going through and, I realized, I never would. "We'll never be able to swap giving-birth stories," I thought, "Or watch our kids play and grow up together." I would smile whenever we spoke on the phone, but at night I would turn to my pillow and cry.

Roller-coasters with my favorite nephew

It's been six years since then. In addition to her gentle son, my sister also has a girl now, a spicy little 5-year-old who couldn't wait to start kindergarten this year. As I prepare to make final vows, I still let my mind drift from time to time and wonder what it would have been like to have children. I wonder what they would have looked like, or how they would have behaved. Would they have been artists or athletes? Maybe both! I wonder if I would have ever gotten them to school on time since I can't stand waking up early. Would they have been little night owls, too? Or would they have pounced on me at 5:00 in the morning, ready for a new day?

Twinning with my favorite niece

While I do not have answers to those questions, I am starting to feel my heart open up in a way I can only describe as the heart of a mother. I would do anything for my nephew and niece. I save all the drawings they give me; I think mean thoughts about the kids that bully them (and then try to pray for the conversion of their heathen souls); I spend all my money on them at Christmas; and I sit on the phone with them for as long as they want when they call. They may not be my kids, but my heart can't tell the difference. My sister jokes that they're half of her and half of me. My nephew is becoming a little bookworm, just like I was when I was his age, and my niece is obsessed with animals of all sorts, wanting to rescue them no matter how big or small.

That maternal love is extending now, further and further, as I spend more time with the youth in our country. During a retreat this month I had the opportunity to speak one-on-one with a handful of high school students. I was surprised by the level of despair and pain with which they came to me. They were carrying tragedy and questions that I never had to deal with so young. As I listened to them I longed to carry it all for them. I found myself asking God how I could help lighten their loads, or how I could help them discover the abundance of God's love for them. I would sometimes look out at all of them during quiet moments of prayer, just to take in every little hair on their precious heads. I imagine that's how a parent feels - wishing they could take away their child's pain, whether it's a scraped knee or a deep heartache; or watching their child, toddler or teen, during some simple activity and feeling overwhelmed with gratitude for the gift of their lives.

Maybe I thought I was giving up a huge part of my life when I realized I wouldn't be having children; maybe I felt like I was sacrificing my own child the way Abraham must have felt as he held the knife over Isaac; but God's invitation is always followed by lavish, life-altering love. That's what I found instead of sacrifice and emptiness. I am discovering each day a love that is as true as any I could have hoped for. I guess my answer to the question "Don't you want to have children?" will now be something more along the lines of, "Of course! That's why I have hundreds."

Perfection

There is a quote attributed to Albert Einstein which says, "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." I agree with this and I do my best to live the latter. However, I think we could also replace the word "miracle" with the word "perfect" and say, "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is perfect. The other is as though everything is perfect."

I remember receiving a painting from my aunt as a child that was titled, "Everything is Perfect". It bothered me. I didn't like the title, or that it was always staring at me from underneath the small image. I didn't agree with it at all. "Some things are perfect," I thought, "but not everything." I think about that little painting's title now though, and I have actually come to agree with it.

Even the most "perfect" things - like Barbie's measurements or a beautiful Christmas snowfall - have their issues. For one, hardly any woman who has ever walked or will ever walk this earth shares Barbie's measurements. Plus, her measurements only match what a random handful of people believed to be the perfect female body. As for the "winter wonderland" of snow on Christmas, it may look beautiful, but it requires a lot of work. So which is it? Are Barbie's measurements flawed or perfect? Would we rather have snow on Christmas or not?

"Be perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect," reads a line from Matthew 5:48. Seems impossible, right? I always thought so. Every time I heard that reading I thought, "Seriously? How could I ever match the perfection of God?" But the more I think about it, the more curious I become about God's perfection. What is God's perfection like? My first inclination is to think about physical characteristics and personality traits, but then I stop trying to measure God by human standards. Rather than look at God in terms of height or weight or behavior, I look at God in terms of forgiveness and compassion and kindness. I think that's the type of perfection we're called to - to forgiveness, compassion, and kindness. So maybe we overeat, or maybe we're chain smokers and workaholics, but can we bring ourselves to forgive when we're hurt? Can we show compassion when it would be easier to settle for condemnation? Do we choose to be kind when we see someone in need or when we find ourselves in an argument?

This reminds me of my favorite character from the movie Silence by Martin Scorsese (I'll try not to spoil it for you in case you haven't seen it). It was about a couple of young Jesuit priests who went to Japan in search of their Jesuit mentor who seemed to have gone missing. In the process they were faced with a very harsh political, cultural, and religious clash. This caused painful tragedies and spiritual torment throughout the Christian community in Japan. Continually forced to choose between life and death, several Japanese Christians were martyred for refusing to renounce their faith. They faced their persecution bravely, but there was one individual in particular who found it impossible to follow their example - his name was Kichijiro. A Japanese Christian and a drunk, Kichijiro renounced his faith every time he encountered this difficult decision. I couldn't stand him, especially when I compared him to the other brave Christians who clung to God and their faith despite the consequences. Kichijiro fell into despair and drunkenness throughout the entire movie, repeatedly renouncing his faith, but I began to notice something - every time he renounced his faith, he desperately sought out the Sacrament of Reconciliation. He failed constantly, but at the same time he constantly acknowledged his wrongdoing and trusted wholeheartedly in the mercy of God.

While it's true that the Japanese Christian martyrs and all who have died for their faith are worthy of admiration, I believe Kichijiro is as well. For those of us who cannot be as steadfast as martyrs in our own Christian commitment, we can choose to seek forgiveness just as Kichijiro did. We can wholly seek holiness, which can sometimes mean repeatedly failing and wholly seeking forgiveness. There is more than one way to God - and thus, more than one way to perfection.

I realized that when I stopped comparing Kichijiro to the martyrs, I was able to see him for who he was and accept his unique albeit wobbly path to holiness. It is the same for each of us; when we quit with the comparisons, we can see ourselves and our situations more fully and with greater understanding. So maybe we happen to be in great shape, with measurements even better than Barbie's; or maybe we don't take care of our health as best we should, but by acknowledging our weakness and striving to do better, we cancel out our imperfect measurements. As for the beautiful blanket of snow at Christmas, even such a masterpiece is not without its challenges. So do we start cursing the beauty of winter? We may be tempted to, but the thorn does not have to detract from the rose. So, enjoy the snow! Recall your childhood wonder at the falling flakes and take a day or two off if you can. And if you have to go to work, use shoveling the sidewalk as a good excuse for exercise and shovel the neighbor's sidewalk while you're at it. Like a line from the movie Wonder by Stephen Chbosky, "Auggie can't change the way he looks. Maybe we can change the way we see." Maybe we can change the way we see.

Try not to look at your body vs. Barbie's or Ken's, or at the snow vs. its aftermath; if we dwell on the imperfections, nothing will be perfect. Let everything be perfect in its own right. Look in the mirror less and look more at the perfection of God. Do you choose patience? Or do you frown at the sky when the snow falls? Will you choose self-control? Or will you blame your boss for the dark circles under your eyes? If we acknowledge our shortcomings for the sake of learning to better love ourselves and others, we can live more fully. If we seek to imitate God's perfection with the fervor of Kichijiro, we will be able to show God's perfection with the heart of a martyr.

Renewal of Vows

Here is a write-up from my renewal of vows!

 

What is so special about August 15? In the Felician world, a whole lot. Not only is it the celebration of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, but it was also vow renewal day for S Desiré Anne Marie Findlay.

In a ceremony during Mass at Immaculate Conception Convent in Lodi, NJ, Sister Desiré made her temporary profession of vows for the second time. SM Christopher Moore, provincial minister, officially received the vows that were witnessed by S Judith Marie Blizzard, director of formation, and S Barbara Marie Brylka, co-director of the sisters in temporary profession.

Brother Dominic Michael Hart, a Franciscan Brother of Peace, was a special guest of Sister Desiré for the renewal.  Paula Binsol, a graduate of Felician College was also able to attend, as well as Seeds of Hope participant, Natalia Tomczyk.

In his homily, Father Leonard Stunek emphasized the call of the Blessed Virgin and Elizabeth as examples of being faithful to God--how they did not ignore the call of God, but wholeheartedly embraced it. 

Because of the holy day, the entire community renewed their vows, thus making Sister Desiré's fiat even stronger with her sisters' fiats supporting her. The feast of the Assumption is also Sister Desiré's feast day and, at breakfast, the sisters sang and wished her many blessings for the upcoming year. 

The temporary professed sisters also continued their semiannual meeting on Friday. SM Ambrose Wozniak, promoter of the cause of Blessed Mary Angela, spoke about Blessed Angela and her devotion to the Eucharist. In her presentation, Sister Ambrose described Eucharistic processions in Poland and their customs. She explained that the people set up elaborate altars in front of homes throughout the parishes, and the processions were filled with pageantry and attended by thousands of people. She noted that it was at one of these processions that the young Sophia Truszkowska became enraptured with Christ in the Holy Eucharist, as well as the fact that Eucharist was not received by the faithful on a regular basis. 

S Heather Marie Deneen said that the talk helped the temporary professed sisters to receive a fuller understanding of Blessed Angela's gift of Eucharistic devotion to her sisters. 

During the afternoon, the temporary professed sisters had a Q and A session with Sister Christopher and Sister Judith. Sister Heather said, "They gave advice on how to handle community life situations, answered questions about policies and what was going on in the province, and listened to our concerns." 

SM Monica Ann Blazuk said, "We really appreciate Sister Christopher and Sister Judy taking the time to be with us, to be sister to us, and to answer our questions."

 

 

To Teach is to Learn

I taught high school seniors this year.

They also taught me.

Full of noise and energy all year long, these young women taught me the importance of humor and excitement.  They reminded me that to be fully human means to be fully yourself.

Not all of the noise from the seniors was screeching and hollering just for the fun of it.  Sometimes they were loud in other ways.  They were loud with compassion.  They were loud with their genuine concern for people.  They were loud with their many gifts and talents, enjoying the abilities God gave them by excelling in sports, academics and creativity.  From this I learned the importance of embracing my gifts as well as developing them.

At the beginning of the year I was concerned that teaching World Religions meant I would be bombarded with questions about the many religious traditions of our world.  I was right.  But I loved it.  Their thirst for knowledge increased my own and kept me open-minded.

As young women with barely 18 years of experience, they also carried with them a lot pain.  I saw heartache.  I held them as they cried.  I cried with them.  Embracing their hurt taught me to embrace my own, showing me the value of acknowledging life's trials.

Though they did not know it, the seniors did well to remind this teacher that she is still a student..  I will be forever grateful.

I love you Pomona Catholic Class of 2014!  There is wisdom in remaining learners for life, but know that you also have the ability to educate.

Love Thyself

This semester my religion class has been learning about and discovering many of the world's major religions. We have covered religions such as Judaism, Taoism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Hinduism, Sikhism and a few of the primal religious traditions. Discussing the different aspects of these religions, and coming to a better understanding of their practices and origins, has provided insight beyond the surface of the rituals and creeds that constitute these belief systems. I teach senior religion, which means that as the year ends, so too does their high school experience. They will soon enter the world as young adults where expectations will go from turning in homework and showing up to class on time, to creating their own schedules and paying their own bills. But just as the externals of religion must point toward something greater, I wanted my students to know that the external expectations of them must also stir something deeper.

First of all, I wanted them to know that there will always be expectations placed on them, sometimes by others and sometimes by themselves. Sometimes they will be able to fulfill those expectations, and sometimes they won't. Our list of what is expected of them during this stage in their lives looked a bit like this:

Be on time
Turn work in
Dress modestly
Don't drink
Don't do drugs
Don't talk in class
Learn to drive
Be kind
Be charitable
Be respectful toward authority
No sex
Curfew
No partying
Forgive
Go to college
Get a job
Obedient
No cussing

When I asked them how they felt when they didn't meet these expectations, they provided a list that looked somewhat like this:

Guilty
Low self-esteem
Disappointment
Frustrated
Angry

When I asked how many of them were actually able to abide by our list of expectations, only a couple raised their hands. "What do we tell ourselves when we don't meet these expectations?" I asked. They said, "Oh it's ok, maybe next time I'll do it," or "What's wrong with me?  Why can't I get it right?" So we concluded that we come up with excuses for not meeting these external expectations as a sort of self-defense mechanism. Other times we let that negative voice take over and tell us we must not be good enough.  However, I let them know that these excuses and feelings of shame can be done away with by simply and honestly trying our best. And as important as these externals are, they mean nothing if there is no internal connection.

There are also those times in life when we don't get the externals right, but there is still something happening beyond the surface that others don't see, or refuse to see. Only you and God really know what you are capable of. I told them, "If you truly couldn't get that homework assignment in on time, but you know you did your best and are not making excuses, then there is no reason to feel guilty.  There will always be someone we disappoint, just know that. Others will disappoint us, too. It's freeing to accept the fact that you can't and won't please everyone. We are responsible for doing what we can and loving ourselves in the process."

I just wanted them to know it was ok to celebrate the little victories, even when no one else sees them, or even when everyone else sees failure. Little victories still count. I guess I wanted you to know that, too. Celebrate your victories. Celebrate you. ♥

Whisper of Hope

As I look at the sprouting pomegranate seedlings I planted several weeks ago, and as I reflect upon some sad news I received yesterday, I figure now is a good time to post a poem I wrote last summer.

Whisper of Hope

There is something inside
which has not come out
it still lies beneath
as a hidden sprout

I feel it is growing
deep
deep
into the soil
while the toiler sleeps

Silently slowly
down slide the roots
holding like hands
the laborer's fruits

Movement and stirring
and upwardly climbing
the green starts to show
the sower is reaping

Up
it is stretching
silencing strife
this beautiful
indescribable
wobbly
new life

It has come so far
but there's much more to grow
so toiler, laborer
you keep what you know
until the sun moves
and beckons you follow

Rise
little one
reach for the heart
surrender yourself
to the Master of art

Calling
He's calling
as if for the first time
you hear Him
He says
I love you
you are mine.

I dedicate this poem to all who are struggling, to all who feel lost and in the dark.  Remember, the roots must be submerged into the darkness if the new growth is to make its way to the sun that sustains it.  Do not be afraid to bend yourself towards the light and love that reaches out to you.

My baby pomegranate trees!

The Love of the Incarnation

Do you see?

Do you believe?

A little baby,

our God!

Outside

it's cold

and yet He chose

to be among the lowly.

With me?

Like me?

A perfect love,

oh, God!

This world

it's cold

and yet He chose

to be among the lonely.

Son of man?

Born of Mary?

A human being,

and God!

The night

it's cold

and yet He chose

to be among the weary.

In me?

Through me?

A merciful Savior,

my God!

This soul

it's cold

and yet He chose

to make this creature holy.

Ode to Ordinary

Perhaps you know, and perhaps you don't know, but the Catholic Church has just begun a new year.  It is called the Season of Advent.  Advent is one of seven liturgical seasons celebrated by the Catholic Church.  Just like January begins the calendar year, so Advent begins the Church year.  And just like December ends the calendar year, the season known as Ordinary Time is what sums up our Church year.  That means the Church year for 2013 came to a close on Saturday, November 30th, the last day of Ordinary Time.  I am excited for Advent.  Advent prepares us for Christmas as it is meant to be a time of anticipation - we are longing for the birth of Jesus as well as for His second coming.  However, I must admit that I feel a little sad about having to say goodbye to Ordinary Time.

I just came back on Saturday from New Mexico after having celebrated Thanksgiving with my family.  When I had first moved away and started returning home for vacations, I expected everyone to gather together so we could run around and do as many exciting things as possible.  "We can go on a hike," I'd say, and a friend or my sister would say, "Yeah!  And then we can do dinner and a movie in the evening!"  "Maybe we can squeeze in a short road trip, too!" my mom and I would suggest.  But as much as we talked about these things, they almost never happened.  Mostly we would just have simple meals together, play with the dogs outside, go for walks, fall asleep to movies at home... Nothing outside of the ordinary.  I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that until recently.

Thanksgiving has never been one of my favorite holidays.  It seemed like nothing ever happened, like it always moved so slowly.  Plus, I never really enjoyed the turkey.  "No, no," someone would promise, "You'll like it this year," or "You'll like the way this person makes the turkey," but I never did.  So, Thanksgiving, not my favorite.  However, I was really looking forward to it this year since I hadn't been home for Thanksgiving in a while.  I had forgotten about all the unexcitement and the turkey; I just wanted to see my family.  Ideas of great big adventures didn't really creep in, either.  We did the usual: played games, ate, helped take care of my nephew and niece, bought some toiletries, visited the convent, and slept.  When I got back on the train I carried with me a vacation that had been just right.  Not thrilling, not boring, but Ordinary.  It was perfect.  I got to be a part of my family's daily comings and goings, to be immersed in what they live on a regular basis.  I could breathe in their smiles, touch their weariness, walk with their triumphs.  For five gorgeous days their routine was mine.  Somehow, I didn't recognize the beauty of that before.

After several months of Ordinary Time, I am having difficulty letting go.  Holding on to the ordinary has enabled me to welcome the imperfections of life; it has been stability in the struggle, and now it is gone.  But a new season is here, one which can help me appreciate the surprises in life and the patience of waiting for those surprises.  Advent.

Advent
as in "arrival" or "coming"
you demand my attention
tugging
seeking
from every direction

Advent
as in beginning
not end
your purpose, to renew
to seek all people of good will
that Christ may dwell within

Advent
the truth
that is past future present
you cry out
as a woman giving birth
you promise us Emmanuel again

To be Consecrated

Sister Claire processing in with the cross

On Thursday, August 15, 2013, I made my first profession of vows as a Felician Franciscan Sister.  I deepened my baptismal commitment by professing the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience (explained here in another blog).  I was surrounded by Sisters, family and friends, all of whom have been and continue to be a wonderful display of God's affection for me.

Depiction of the Assumption at RR convent

August 15th is a major day for our community and for me in many ways.  Our Felician community is particularly fond of the Blessed Virgin Mary because of her selfless "Yes" to God which gave flesh and bone to God's own Son, making Him a brother to the entire human race.  The 15th of August is known as the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary because it is that day the Church celebrates her assumption into heaven.  Each of our central Felician convents is named after Mary in her honor; the convent in Rio Rancho is named The Convent of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, which means that August 15th is the day they celebrate their own special feast.  Each of the Sisters has her own personal feast day as well, so any Sister who has the same name as a saint would celebrate her feast day on the feast day of the saint.  For example, a Sister named Rose would typically celebrate on August 23rd because that is the feast day of St. Rose of Lima.  Because there is not (yet) a St. Desire', I chose a Marian feast.  I could have picked any day on which we celebrate the Virgin Mary, but I chose the Feast of the Assumption.  So not only is August 15th the feast day of the convent where I met the Felicians as well as my own personal feast day, but it was also my grandmother's birthday -- the woman whose faith has been a large part of my own faith formation.

As I stood in front of my ever-growing family, I spoke these words in order to profess the vows I have chosen to live:

I, Sister Desire' Anne-Marie, vow to Almighty God chastity, poverty and obedience for one year

according to the Constitutions of the Sisters of St. Felix of Cantalice,

and I promise to live according to the Rule of the Third Order Regular of St. Francis.

 

I choose Jesus for my spouse and Lord, the Blessed Virgin Mary for my mother and lady,

the seraphic St. Francis for my model of evangelical life,

and this Congregation for my family.

 

I make my profession into the hands of Sister Mary Christopher, Provincial Minister,

and I entrust my vows to the Immaculate Heart of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
 

To which the presider said:

 

And I promise you on the part of Almighty God and in the name of the Blessed Virgin Mary,

that if you observe all this, you shall receive life everlasting.

+In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

 

And I responded with "Amen"!

 

After professing the vows, I received the symbols of my religious profession.  I was given a black veil to replace my white one which proclaims that I now belong entirely to Christ and am dedicated to the service of the Church.  I received the crucifix which serves as a reminder to me of God's infinite love for His people.  I was given the Rule of St. Francis and the Constitutions of our community that I may maintain them as my way of life.  The candle I received represents the light of Christ, which serves to enlighten those who chose to be His apostles.  This all took place throughout the Mass, and as a final blessing, all raised their hands over me to pray in the words of Blessed Mary Angela, our foundress:

 

 

 "May the Lord give you a humble love which expands itself, a generous love which forgets itself, a strong love which is not afraid of pain, a stable love which does not change, a patient love which can bear everything, a fervent love which never weakens, a constant love which never falters.  Amen."

 Afterward we took many pictures (posted below), followed by good food and company!

 

With Council members, my former director, and Mass celebrants

My sister Johnele and her lovely family!

Aunts, Uncles, Cousin, Mom and baby sis :)



Dad and Grandparents



Viola who, with her daughter Rachel, played for the Mass

Linda who also did a lot for the music of the Mass!

All photographs posted on this blog were taken by Evelyn Hornbarger, a young woman of the LDS church whose own faith and kindness have been an inspiration!  She also wrote a blog on the event which you can access here.  I will post more photos from the ceremony itself when I have a bit more time as well as some antics from recent Pomona Catholic high school adventures.

 

Thank you for continuing to be a part of my journey!  May we bring one another to heaven :)

Room Number 203

That's me!  I officially have my own classroom: Room 203.  I will be teaching Religion, Spanish and Dance at the Pomona Catholic All Girls High School (PC) in Pomona, CA.  I can't believe it!  I have been waiting to return here since my visit in February of 2011 and here I am.  It seems as if California has been my home, as if my heart has been waiting here for me all along and we've finally come back together again.  Since I know God manifests His love for us in guardian angels, I have asked the Lord for special help from the angels this year, so I know this will be a blessed time indeed!  So far Sister Feliz (who is in administration at PC) has been by my side, introducing me to people, helping me set up my classroom and sharing her experiences with me.  Help from the angels has already come!  Thank You, God, and thank you everyone who has been praying for me and supporting me all this time.  Below are some photos of my classroom and the lovely dance room next to it :)



View from back, left corner of the classroom.

View from front, left corner of the classroom.




View from front, right corner of the classroom.



View from back, right corner of the classroom.



Main door is on the right in this photo, with the windows along the wall behind the student's desks.

 

My favorite bulletin board (Papal blessing in bottom corner).

My other favorite bulletin board.

Bulletin board with Spanish calendar and world map.

Teacher's Desk... I mean, my desk :)

The Dance Room!



Two Months, Three Vows

As a novice with the Felician Sisters (much like a novice in any religious community), I am currently practicing the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, but have not yet officially professed them.  That is what I am getting ready for in just two short months!  With God's consent, I will make my first vows with the Felicians this August at the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary Convent in Rio Rancho, NM.  Soon enough I will have an update on how everything goes, but at the moment I am in prep mode, which is what I'd like to share with you now!

As you may have read in my previous post, I spent six weeks ministering at an early childcare center and elementary school in Milwaukee, WI.  I had many wonderful experiences there -- which is no surprise when God is in charge! -- and found that these experiences extended into my daily routine as well.

Very close to our convent were three healthcare facilities: a hospital, a rehabilitation center and an assisted living home.  Several of our Sisters minister in each of these capacities, so I had the opportunity to visit a couple of them.  I went to evening Mass regularly at Villa St. Francis, which is the assisted living home.  Sometimes I was able to stay afterward and talk with a few of the residents and once in a while I helped them to their places at table for dinner afterward.  I eventually began helping at Mass as a Eucharistic Minister as well.  On one such occassion I made my way with Communion through the rows and came up to one small lady in the back.  I held up the Host and said, "The Body of Christ."  To my surprise and delight she responded, "And you are His forever."  It is a rare occasion in which someone will respond with something other than "Amen", since that is the practice, but never have I been greeted with a response so unexpected and loving as this one.  When I went home that evening, I continued to reflect on her words, and I still do, as they speak of the commitment into which I am entering as I prepare for my first profession of vows.

The vows, as you may or may not know, are basically three promises we make to God in order to deepen our relationship with Him, ourselves and others.  The vows we take (which are the vows most religious communities take) are poverty, chastity and obedience.  In promising to live a life of poverty, I will promise to God to live a life of simplicity so that I can fill my life with His presence.  It does not mean that I must live with nothing, but it does mean that I should not be concerned with obtaining more than I need and that I should be willing to share what I do have.  In vowing chastity, I am entering into a spousal relationship with God alone.  My family will be the family He chooses for me, the people with whom and to whom I minister in my daily life.  The vow of obedience asks me to listen to the teachings of the Catholic Church.  If there are teachings that I do not understand, or even teachings that I do not agree with, it is my responsibility to learn more about the root of those teachings so that I may live with them in patience.  In terms of community life, the vow of obedience invites us to listen to one another and consider prayerfully what the Lord might be asking of us as individuals and as a community.

You see, then, why this woman's words had such an impact.  Basically she was saying to me, "You
are committed to the Body of Christ forever."  What a commitment!  This means I am to serve my brothers and sisters -- that means all of you! -- in simplicity (poverty), charity (chastity) and humility (obedience).  The words themselves do not sound daunting until I really think of what that means.  It means that I must be willing to give my whole life, my very self, in the same way that Jesus did.  There is a reason He asks, "Can you drink the cup that I ... drink?" (Mt. 20:22).  He knows what courage and fidelity this requires!  If I belong to His body, then this is what I am called to do for the rest of my life as a way of life.  There are two things that give me hope 1) the Resurrection and 2) the fact that "for human beings this is impossible, but for God all things are possible" (Mt. 19:26).

Although this first profession of vows is not quite permanent, since they only last for one year until I renew them again, I know I need to be prepared to live these vows fully for the year that I do profess them.  They will add a new dimension to my life in community and to the discernment process as I attempt to deepen the relationships I have been working on interiorly throughout these past two years in the novitiate.  I trust all of you will continue to pray for me as I do for you!

A Weekend of Retreat

My fellow novices and I went on a wonderful retreat in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania for a whole week.  We stayed at the Villa of Our Lady retreat center and were taken care of by three super fun jolly Bernadine Franciscan Sisters.  They and their staff cooked meals for us all week long and made sure we were well fed.  The interesting fact I must share with you about these Sisters is that they began in Poland just like the Felician Sisters did.  Upon meeting them, I made the connection that these were the Sisters some of our own Sisters stayed with during the War in Poland.  Now here we were, generations later, reunited!  I really feel that they're family.

I made a few new friends of the feline class.  The Sisters feed families of stray cats that live in the woods nearby and I was able to coax a few kittens with some dangly things.  I also made some human friends at the grotto outside which is perfectly situated at the corner of two major streets, so people stop there all the time.  I talked to several visitors and learned that many of them were not even Catholic, they just wanted to spend some time with Mother Mary :)  They could light candles, sit in prayer, or go inside the retreat house to check out the gift shop.  Perfect!


I found the Mount Airy State Park nearby and the four of us novices went hiking a few times. I even rode my bike around. It was the first time I ever used that bike in the mountains -- it finally fulfilled its purpose! A mountain bike on the road is nothing like a mountain bike in its natural environment. I loved it! It actually provided for a neat reflection on allowing myself to fulfill the purpose for which God has created me. What is my natural environment? Am I made for the road or the trails? Married or religious life? That's what discernment is all about -- discovering where we work best!
While hiking and biking around, we caught glimpses of wildlife.  We heard about bears, but never saw one.  However, we did run across some toads, frogs, a couple of snakes, deer, a rabbit, squirrels, a beaver, a turtle and a few unknown creatures.  Not to mention mosquitoes... I came home with over 25 mosquito bites.

I have to mention the stream as well which was an icy cold relief from the heat and humidity.  We sat in it almost every day and made sure to submerge ourselves enough to make it last for the walk back home.  It was like a baptism, being embraced and comforted by my Sister Water.  Despite the trail's bugs and possible predators, the path was like a deep conversation with God.  With flower pedals strewn across the ground, we could feel the Lord drawing us closer to Himself.

May you be able to see God's love for you no matter where you are!  Amen.  Amen.