Doing & Being

I've been speaking to a lot of groups lately, but I find it ironic that I'm speaking at all. By nature I keep most of my words in my head, but even when I do want to speak, I prefer it to be minimal and in a group of no more than five people. That, or in a profound conversation with someone whose depth of spirit speaks to my own.

By definition of what I've been doing lately I guess you could call me a "national speaker". I've spoken all across the country in a number of churches, schools and institutions; have been interviewed for various media and written material; and have even had to turn down some invitations because of a schedule that can't fit anything more.

When I reflect on this, I'm tempted to laugh, but I'm mostly confused because I have no interest in public speaking. I'd rather read a book than speak about it, so I keep asking God the same question dear old Moses did, "Why me? Don't you want someone else?"

I have a very simple philosophy when it comes to God's will: God opens doors when there's a path I should walk and God closes doors when I need to look elsewhere. God has shown me where to turn by making things happen that I couldn't have accomplished on my own (like when I took the wrong test to apply for the School of Education and was admitted anyway); or by giving me "no" as an answer when I wanted to hear "yes". Sometimes a "closed door" has been simply knowing in my heart that I'm not pursuing what I know I should be, and I'm not at peace until I listen.

As I see all these doors opening for me to walk into schools and parishes, it tells me that this is where God wants me right now. The invitations wouldn't be coming if God had other plans in mind. Even still, while this may be what I do, it doesn't really feel like who I am.

The other day I was preparing to lead a retreat for high school seniors. I always get nervous before presentations and retreats because I want to offer the best and leave people with something they can really use in their relationship with God. The night before this particular retreat I prayed, "Lord, please help me to be who you need me to be for these students." In that moment my mind quieted and I felt the Lord say, "I don't need you to be anything. Just be yourself." It was both comforting and unsettling. I wanted more guidance than that, and yet I knew that was truly all God wanted.

So if my doing is not my being, then I suppose it is not so much what I share as it is who I share. I have been trying to fit the role of how I view public speakers - as dynamic extroverts with lots of things to say. Instead, I need to find a way of public speaking that is me - a friendly introvert with lots of things on her mind.

I wonder how many people get stuck trying to fit a role as it is commonly cast. How do we break free? How do we re-imagine the role so that we can still do what needs to be done, but in a way that gives us space to be us?

The photos you see in this post were taken by Carlos Trujillo during a talk I gave in Albuquerque,
NM. They say so much of who I am, and yet give the impression that I am a speaker and a performer. I consider myself neither, but, in the words of Mother Teresa, I do consider myself a pencil in the hand of God. Who am I to decide what story God should write with me, or how it should be written? It is enough that God should want to write with me.

So, as I continue to be entrusted with a stage and a microphone, I will do my best to make the most of it. Considering that Lent has just begun, perhaps I could use it as a time to further explore how to be in all that I do. Please pray for me as I pray for you.

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

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."

The Famous Question

I have had one of the most adventurous summers of my life. It started with a single phone call from a young woman named Emily Cunningham. After tracking me down through a list of phone numbers she had received, Emily finally got a hold of me at my new place of residency. When I answered the phone I started trying to imagine all the reasons I might be receiving a call from someone I did not know. "I was given your name by Father Tom Sparacino," she said. "My friends and I have been asking around about a Sister who could join us for a camping retreat." My heart started pounding. A camping retreat?! Never mind that I had only gone camping like twice in my life, I was being invited to a camping retreat! Well, it didn't take long for me to rearrange my vacation, despite the fact that I had to cancel a surprise trip for my baby sister's 13th birthday. (It sounds terrible of me, I know, BUT ... spoiler alert ... it all worked out in the end.)

During our week at camp, every activity we did was discussed during a debriefing time when campers and camp leaders would talk about the day's events in light of their relationship with God, themselves, or others. It reminded me of the question that so many spiritual directors love to ask: "Where did you see God in this?" The famous question.

As I ponder my many trips and adventures, that continues to be my guiding question. During the camp - named Camp Lajas after the Colombian miracle of Our Lady of Las Lajas - we had a chance to go hiking, rock climbing, kayaking, and rafting. I was forever gaining insights from the campers and camp leaders, but also coming to my own insights as I processed the experience for myself. In order to continue processing the experiences, I am sharing them with you here and hopefully it can help you ask the same question for yourself about your own summer activities: Where did you see God?

On Sunday, July 22nd, Emily's wonderful mom gave me a ride up to Muskrat Cove at Moraine State Park where I met the rest of the retreat leaders. We cooked, cleaned, set up tents, put together an outdoor chapel, laughed, ate, took pictures, and got ready for the eight retreatants who arrived the next day. They were young women in all levels of high school and from different areas of the Diocese of Pittsburgh. They all looked nervous when they showed up Monday since most of them did not know each other or the camp leaders, but it was easy to see that they were all excited to be there. I was excited too, except for the white water rafting we'd be doing on Thursday. I was not excited for that.

Rock climbing - it's not as easy as it looks

When we went rock climbing on Tuesday, the instructors were great and gave tons of good tips as they explained the difficulties and rewards of rock climbing. I looked up at the tall rock walls they had chosen for us and couldn't wait to give rock climbing a try. We had two options, so I went to the wall that had more edges and crevices since it looked like more fun to climb. When it was my turn, I put the harness on and happily started my ascent. I wish I could say I never looked back, but I could barely hang on after I'd gone up only two feet! I gracefully fell off the wall and had to start again. I think that's when I lost my confidence, because after that I began to second guess everything. It took me so much time and effort to consider my next move that I was getting frustrated. My arms were getting tired and every crevice seemed too far away for me to grasp. When I made it about halfway up the wall, the instructor simply called out to me, "Trust yourself!" It was like a movie moment, when everything is suddenly still and your spidey senses start tingling. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I had been relying on the strength of my wobbly arms when the instructors had clearly told us in the beginning to rely on our legs. "Most beginners think they need to use their arms to get themselves up, but all the work should really be in your legs." Of course, I thought to myself, Why would I rely on my arms anyway? They've always been the weakest part of my body. My strength has always been in my legs. It was like I suddenly realized that God had already given me the strength I needed, I just had to trust in it.

I read the book I Am Malala by Malala Yousafzai and it reminds me of something she said the doctor had told her father when the hospital was getting ready to transfer her for recovery after she was shot. Her father had expressed gratitude in the fact that God had sent those specific doctors to his daughter's aid right when she needed them most. The doctor, Dr. Javid Kayani, replied, "It is my belief God sends the solution first and the problem later" (pg. 269). It felt the same for me - although in much less drastic circumstances - God had already given me a solution. The solution was my strong dancer legs, so instead of trying to come up with my own solution by using my arms, I needed to trust that God had already equipped me for the task at hand. I saw a clear parallel in my rock climbing adventure with implications for daily life: I have already been given certain strengths with which to navigate this life, and I'll only be able to find my way if I use them.

When Thursday came around I woke up with a pounding headache and thought perhaps it was a sign. As you may recall from my post about the Holy Land, drowning is one of my biggest fears, so with a headache on white water rafting day I figured it meant I shouldn't go since I might not make it out alive. I seriously considered staying behind and had an interior battle before getting into the van. I thought, If I don't go I'll miss out on time with the campers. Maybe I won't die. Maybe I'll be fine. No, this headache is terrible. I won't be fine. I'm going to die. Even with that conclusion, I somehow convinced myself to line up for the van.

Halfway to our destination, we missed our exit on the highway. Usually you can just turn around without too much of a change in your estimated time of arrival, but not on white water rafting day. Once the GPS rerouted us we got 30 minutes added to our trip. Instead of arriving right on time at noon, we were now going to be a half hour late. To me, that was another sign. Emily gasped in a panic. "They'll leave without us!" she said. "The paperwork clearly states that if we don't get there on time, the group will leave without us." She sat in shock for a moment as I silently thanked God that we missed our exit. This must mean I was going to die! Now we're definitely not going white water rafting. Thank You, Lord. "Wait," Emily said, "I'll just call and tell them we missed our exit. Maybe they'll understand." She made the phone call and the very kind woman on the other end said they would wait. I was disappointed. So there's a chance we'll make it, I thought. Great.

When we finally got rerouted it seemed that all was going smoothly until suddenly the tires on the van screeched and the wheel locked. The camp leader who was driving slowed down, pulled over to the side of the road and took the keys out of the ignition. We sat for a moment, wondering what could have possibly happened and I uttered another silent sigh of relief. We're definitely not going to get there now. Good! Our driver tried restarting the van, but it fought back while I tried to fight back my smile. She tried it again, but to no avail. I held my breath on the third try and suddenly it started. Ugh. But I was still holding out hope that we would not get there in time.

Nope, we were on time. Figures, I thought. Now all I can hope for is that I don't die. Please, God, don't let me die.

As the guides were giving their instructions, I practiced every move they described. I tightened my life jacket until I could hardly breathe, just as they suggested, and we set off for the rapids. Our group was split up into three rafts and I ended up with four teenagers and only one adult who had been white water rafting just once before. She was younger than me. I looked at my crew and thought, Yup, today is the day. My earthly pilgrimage is over.

We started out nice and slow in our bright yellow raft. There were about five other rafts on the trip with us, plus a rescue raft and our two guides in their kayaks. The river was moving pretty quickly, but didn't seem too threatening. It was almost like an exciting lazy river ride. Our guides called out directions, telling us what was up ahead and explaining whether we should stay to the middle, left, or right. As soon as we hit our first rapid, I was immediately in love! I couldn't wait for the next one! We went a total of 7.4 miles downstream that day, and at the halfway point we all stopped for a lunch break. Plenty of people had fallen out of their rafts during the first half of the trip, but none of us in my raft had. We were so proud of ourselves and our great teamwork! We had almost tipped over once, with water rushing in as we slumped halfway off a rock, but we had narrowly avoided the disaster and used it as an excuse to build our pride.

Once we got back in the water we were feeling more confident and were happy to know we still had another few miles of rapids left. At one point, one of the guides was explaining that there was a hydraulic ahead. He said, "This is the spot where plenty of rafts get flipped! You need to watch out and make sure you avoid it. If not, then hit it straight on and with as much speed as you can, because if you're turned sideways or going too slowly, your whole raft will flip over." We listened intently and followed the group along as we watched for this infamous hydraulic. When our guide shouted that it was just ahead, we saw it, but there was nowhere to go. There was a raft on our right and a bunch of rocks to our left - we were headed straight for it. Without enough time to fight the swift pace of the river, the nose of our raft turned and we were headed slowly toward the hydraulic at a crawling pace, exactly the way we were not supposed to. It all happened just like our guides had explained during the instructions, "If you fall out, everything will go dark and wet." It sure did. Dark and wet, I thought. Yup. But then I remembered his next words, "Don't panic. You'll float right back up to the surface. Just stay calm." I paddled my arms a bit as I came up and then there I was, back in the sunlight. I stayed calm, just as he said, because I realized that there were rules in place to keep me safe, so as long as I followed those rules I would be just fine. His words kept coming to me, "Once you come back to the surface, make sure you get your legs pointed downstream. Don't try to swim, and don't try to stand either. There are plenty of rocks and crevices your feet could get stuck in. Just get your feet pointed downriver and float." I realized my head was pointed downriver, and even though we were wearing helmets, I still didn't like the idea of hitting my helmetted head on a rock. I turned myself around and floated downriver with my feet out in front of me. I grabbed two of the paddles floating next to me and marveled at just how calm I was. Eventually the guys in the rescue boat reached out and pulled me over using the paddles I was holding. They quickly took hold of my life-jacket and pulled me up by it. I was so glad I had tightened it just like the guides said, otherwise I would have slipped right out. After that, they gave our paddles back and promptly returned us to our raft.

When we were talking about the rafting trip afterward, my little crew was still in awe over the experience. Almost all of us had loved it - even the falling out part - but one girl from our raft said she had been terrified the whole time. However, when our raft flipped, she explained that her consolation came from the fact that there were others in the water with her. I hadn't thought about that aspect, but I realized when she said it that it had been a consolation for me as well. I was comforted by the fact that I wasn't the only person adrift, but that my whole team was with me. I joked later that our teamwork was the best because we were either all in the raft together, or we were all in the water together.

It made me think about how important it is for us to be with people during their time of need. Of course we need people there to pull us out of the water when it's time, but we often need to feel like people are with us in the water. When I'm feeling upset or distraught about a personal situation, I don't always need saviors. Sometimes I just need someone who will say, "I understand. I'm here. I'm with you in this. We'll get out together."

These are just some of the places where God showed up for me at Camp Lajas: in learning to trust the gifts God has given me; in better understanding what it means to work as a team; and in realizing just how important it is to be at the side of those who feel alone in their struggles. So, back to the famous question: Where did you see God in this... summer / post / year ? If you want to know where God is at work in your life, this question is a good place to start.

Wishing you peace and plenty of adventures,
Sister Desiré Anne-Marie Findlay

Bring Me Your Sick and Suffering

I have been in Haiti for a little over a week now, and today I experienced a Gospel story in real life. You know how Jesus would walk the streets and visit different towns and neighborhoods? He would kneel down and ask what was ailing an individual, and then people who saw and heard about His miraculous touch would desperately seek His help.

Today was my first time walking with a team of student nurses through the small neighborhoods of Jacmel, Haiti. We were lead by Sister Marilyn who had visited a few people the day before and promised a return visit. They were all waiting outside on their porches and steps when we arrived, eager to receive help from this group of healers. You could see the hope in their eyes and the excitement as they called on their children and grandchildren to search for chairs, offering a place for the nurses to sit. Sister Marilyn translated as people shared their aches and pains, burdened by illnesses they couldn’t understand or afford. People would stand around and listen, curious and watchful, but then more people would start to show up, just like they would with Jesus. We would finish with one person, and then someone would lift up their child onto the porch - “She doesn’t have an appetite,” they would say, concerned for their little one. The team of nurses would then discuss the possibilities as Sister Marilyn translated their questions. After granting small doses of medication, another neighbor would bring their elderly mother. “She has terrible headaches,” they’d tell us, and then all would watch, amazed, as the nurses checked blood pressure, took temperature, and pulled bottles of medication out of their bags.

We were almost finished with one home visit in particular when the small crowd parted to let a young man come through. We all winced as he walked up the steps, slowly and carefully, suffering from what looked like road burn. It turned out he had been near a propane tank when it exploded, leaving burns and blisters on his arm and face. The student nurses quickly began surveying the damage. After gathering all the necessary information, they cleaned the open skin with peroxide, then gently applied antibiotic ointment to the affected areas. When it was particularly painful, the young man would close his eyes, but his face was still covered with signs of relief, knowing that he was getting the help he needed.

As I observed the nurses and their patients, it was like watching people flock to Jesus; people with a hope big enough for miracles.

JOY: Jesus, Others and You

Busy Busy Busy! I just wanted to share a wonderful experience I had last week in Henderson, KY. I was there from Sunday, April 15th through Sunday, April 22nd visiting a variety of schools and sharing my vocation story. You may be wondering just how I ended up going to a little city out in the country. To find out, read on! Last summer, I had the chance to speak at the 12th National Black Catholic Congress in Orlando, FL, where I also proclaimed the reading during Mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of Mary Queen of the Universe. The group traveled together to and from Mass on a bus, and it was on this bus that I met Father Anthony Shonis. After some lively conversation, Father Shonis extended the invitation that eventually brought me to the Diocese of Henderson, KY. While in Kentucky, I had a full itinerary - I spoke the night I arrived, every day thereafter, and then again on the very morning I left. I met with groups of all ages at schools across the diocese. My youngest audience included pre-kindergarten, but I also spoke with children in elementary, middle, and high school. Teaching the little ones a chant with some movement! I always shared my story first, talking about where I grew up and how I met the Felician Sisters. Then I talked a bit about religious life, explaining the vows and the difference between nuns and sisters, as well the difference between Franciscans, Dominicans, and Benedictines. I would then ask the kids a few questions, sometimes rewarding them with a knotted rosary I had made when they answered correctly - or even sometimes when they answered creatively, even if it wasn't the answer I was looking for. :) After my story and explanations, I allowed time for the kids to ask me questions. I received excellent questions from every grade, including some interesting ones such as "What happens if you break the vows?"; "What do you think you would be doing right now if you weren't a sister?"; and "How do you pay for all of your travels?" Me with the Youth Group at Holy Name of Jesus Catholic Church My favorite question, however, came on the last day. After Mass, I spoke with the kids who came from the public schools for religious education. It was a mixed group, so there were children from elementary to high school present. When I finished speaking and invited questions from the students, a little boy in the front row raised his hand high and asked, "Is all of this true?" I held my laughter in behind a great big smile and said, "It is, actually! It's pretty much my whole life story all in one very short presentation." He stared at me in awe as I continued answering some other very good questions. Posing with my new little friends at John Paul II Catholic School After all of the questions had been asked and answered during my presentation, I did one of two things. With the lower grades - usually kindergarten through fifth grade - I would teach the students a chant with some movements I had made up. The kids had a great time, jumping up and down and using their 'outside' voices even though they were inside. One of the teachers came to me afterward and said, "That was great! We're going to use that as opening prayer from now on!" With the middle and high school students, I would do something a little different. I had some choreography prepared that went with a popular song all the students knew, so it was a nice surprise for them to see I could dance. The older kids loved it! They started bouncing around as soon as the song came on, but they also had a great time learning the dance and competing to see who could do it best. I received several compliments afterward, from both middle and high school students, and sometimes even from their teachers who had gotten up and tried the dance, too. At one point, Father Anthony Shonis even tried learning the dance! Teaching a dance I choreographed for the upper grades Near the end of my time in Kentucky, I was blessed to be able to speak at the annual Black Catholic gathering for the diocese of Henderson. The day began with breakfast and Mass, followed by a short Q&A session with the bishop. Afterward, everyone moved to the parish hall where I spoke with the small group of about 20 people in attendance. The theme was "Missionary Discipleship from a Multicultural Perspective: Effective Inclusion." I shared my story and focused on how God has been able to break barriers in and around me simply through my "Yes." Explaining that it was not necessarily my intent to break these barriers, I shared that now I know it was God's intent and that my choice to follow His will is what allows me to be a voice for the minorities I represent. Several of the individuals shared their own difficult stories about racism and prejudice, explaining that they had been mad at God, wondering why He would make them "like this" (African American/black) if it meant they were going to be mistreated. In the course of the sharing, many individuals expressed their gratitude for groups and events like the Black Catholic gathering because it gave them the opportunity to have a place in the Church. As the presentation came to a close, I thanked the group for their invitation and for their sharing. I explained, "I fall into many minority groups - I'm a minority as a woman of color; I'm a minority as a woman of color who's Catholic; I'm a minority as a young sister; I'm a minority as a young sister who's black; so a lot of people have begun turning to me, asking for my opinions. They see me and say, 'There are not many of you. We want to know what you think.' Now that you have shared your stories, I will join your voices with mine so we can speak together when people ask me what I think." Me & some attendees from the Black Catholic gathering in Henderson, KY I can hardly express the joy and beauty I experienced in Kentucky. It confirmed the hopes I'd had when I first began to contemplate religious life seriously - hopes that God would use my gifts and life for a purpose, and that my relationship with God and the world around and within me would deepen. I can only describe it in this way: I felt as if I were being lifted to God by all of my Felician Sisters at once; like I was in the middle of a wonderful celebration where all at the same time I was learning, loving, and laughing. It was like looking up at the sky right when the shooting star made its appearance; like knowing I am right where I am meant to be.

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."

 

 

Christ Beside Me

Crazy hair... It runs in the family ♥

I woke up late Friday morning after staying up to prepare lessons for the coming week.  I meandered slowly into the bathroom to brush my teeth and looked sleepily at my reflection in the mirror.  I chuckled at my wayward hair and thought, "Wow, I look like a mess."  I freshened up my breath with some minty paste and plastic bristles and went back to my room.  As I crossed the threshold from the bathroom to my bedroom which is the hallway, I thought for a moment about my silly hair and my reflection.  "I'm kind of like that on the inside, too," I realized, "A mess."  I sat on my bed to think about it a moment longer and thought about the "cracked pot" story (see below) and it prompted a simple prayer.  "Lord," I began, "I don't want to let my brokenness get in the way.  I want to learn how to let You work through my brokenness - don't let it stop You.  Don't let it stop me, either."  With that, I offered an "Amen" and continued to get ready for the day.

I love being outdoors and so am often looking for an opportunity to walk or ride my bike somewhere.  So, after having gotten myself ready, I decided to walk down to the RiteAid near our convent.  I only needed a few things, but any excuse was good enough.  I left without a coat or sweater, it was so warm, and as I skipped down our steps the woman across the street greeted me with a kind "Good Morning!"  It added an extra piece of goodness to an already beautiful day and I happily prayed a rosary down the street to my destination.

I found only one of the items I was looking for, so I decided to continue my walk and went a block over to Walgreens.  Looking around at a world I don't normally walk through, my eyes landed on an auto shop that was coming up on my right.  Some music was playing and I caught a line of a very familiar song.  "I just want you to know who I am" was all I heard, but in that very brief moment, as I peered into the lot of cars and felt the sun on my face and listened to the music, I was somewhere else.  I was in someone else's childhood, someone else's memories, someone else's reality.  For a split second, I knew that no one else has or ever will experience life like I have, nor will I ever experience life the way someone else has.  It seems so basic, so obvious, but even though I knew that before, I never understood it.  As I waited to cross the intersection, the words from the song came back to me - I just want you to know who I am.  Though they may just be lyrics from a 90's song by the Goo Goo Dolls, at that moment it was part of God's answer to the prayer I had uttered earlier in the day.  By saying, "I want to learn how to let You work through my brokenness," I was basically asking for Him to be my teacher.  "Teach me," I had pleaded, and this was part of His lesson: "Know who I am."

When I got back home my dear mentor - and most frequent comment-giver on this blog (thank you, Sister Seraphine!) - returned from picking up some groceries.  We chatted for a few minutes before I hopped in the car to run a few more errands.  As I left she mentioned it was First Friday and with a smile said, "Stay close to Jesus."  That was the second part of God's lesson.

The next part took place at Mass.  After I ran my errands I drove to a nearby parish where I knew they had an evening weekday Mass.  I arrived a bit early, so I took some time to kneel before the Blessed Sacrament and began another rosary.  I got halfway through when I looked at my watch and saw I only had about five minutes left.  Finding a seat, I took my journal out so I could jot down a few thoughts from the day and then I quieted myself down for Mass.  We began with a song, although there was no official choir, and I found myself somewhat reluctant to chime in.  I enjoy singing, but I have not yet figured out how to use my vocal chords for something other than talking.  However, I noticed that the church was actually loud with song, that almost everyone was singing, perfect or not, so I quickly gave up on my insecurity and gladly joined in an a cappella "Hark!  The Herald Angels Sing".

The priest started his homily with a story: "I was at Wal-Mart shopping one day when this woman passed by me in the aisle.  She was looking at me in a very strange way and I wasn't really sure why.  Finally she said, 'Do I know you from somewhere?  I feel like I've met you before.'  I told her I wasn't sure, so she asked what I did for a living.  'Well, I'm a priest,' I told her.  'Aha!' she said, 'from church.  That's where I've seen you.'  It's funny," he continued, "how people don't recognize us outside of a familiar setting.  I think that's how it can often be with Jesus.  Jesus is present in every situation, but sometimes we only see Him when and where it's obvious, like church.  I think Jesus is more often found in those places and people we are not expecting, places in which it would be a surprise; that's where we need to look for Him."

The priest's homily was the last piece of my lesson for the day.  In conclusion, God's overall message to my plea was this: "In order to receive what it is you're asking for, you must know who I am and you must stay close to my Son by looking for Him where you do not expect to find Him."  Perhaps knowing who God is has to do with entering into the experiences of others and perhaps one of the places in which I can begin to look for His Son is within the brokenness that I have been reluctant to embrace, like our dear friend the cracked pot.

The story of the cracked pot

An elderly woman had two large pots.  Each hung on the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck to gather water each day.  One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water.  At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water.  The poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what the pot perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream.  "I am ashamed of myself," it confessed, "because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house and I only bring home half as much as the other pot."

The old woman smiled.  She placed the pole on her neck to begin the walk back home.  In doing so, she replied, "Look at the path as we walk.  Do you see the flowers growing on your side only?  I have always known about your flaw.  I planted flower seeds on your side of the path and each day as we walked back home you watered them.  For two years now I have been able to enjoy seeing the beauty of these flowers during my long walk home.  I need you to be just the way you are."

Knock knock! Who's there?

It's me!

Me, who?

Good question.

Who is this "me" that is otherwise known as "Des", "Desire'", or "Sister Desire'"?

I must say that lately I have been questioning my authenticity.  "Who am I to be a teacher?" I wonder, or "What on earth am I doing in a convent?"  I feel sometimes like I am participating in a sort of game, like I am playing dress-up or teacher as I secure my knee-high stockings and put on my shiny black shoes before sauntering off to school.  "Is this really my life?" I ask.  "Am I really a 'nun'?  A teacher?"  Everyone seems to think so, plus I publicly professed my vows and signed a teaching contract, so I guess it's true.  But what does that mean?  What does it mean to be a 'nun'?  How am I supposed to be a teacher?

That's not me.

Sister Desire' the teacher:

She gives quizzes, assigns homework, tells her students to please stop talking, attends staff meetings, has to create lesson plans on a regular basis, sits behind a big desk during her prep period to catch up on attendance and never sleeps.

Absolutely not me, either.

Sister Desire' the 'nun':

Prays at 5:50 a.m. Monday through Friday, wears a habit, doesn't own a car, is responsible for contributing to community life, also tells her students to please stop talking, and is uninterested in popular music.







Why question my authenticity, you ask?  Because none of that feels like me.  The real me does NOT want to torture students with quizzes and homework, nor does she want to torture herself with the grading.  The "real" me would also love to chatter with a classroom full of teenage girls especially if it would decrease the amount of time I had to spend on lesson plans.  I don't mind the big desk and the attendance, but I would prefer a lot more sleep than I've been getting... Which brings me to the next point: prayers at 5:50 in the morning.  That is most definitely not me.  The habit is nice, although I wish I could wear a Franciscan cord with it; I don't mind not owning a car either, but it is tough to remember that I'm also supposed to put gas in it like the other Sisters kindly do.  And in regards to the popular music, I think perhaps the real me wouldn't want to know what's currently happening with popular music either, even though I still enjoy the rhythm it has that just makes me want to get
up and dance!

So if I am not those things, then what things am I?

Well, I know I love to ride my bike.  I love to feel the wind greeting my face and running down my back when I race down a hill.  Jumping on a big trampoline when the winds are strong also thrills me to no end.

Making rosaries and giving them away is one of my favorite hobbies.

I smile and laugh as much as I can, but it's hard to do when I haven't had enough sleep.  Sleep.  Ohhh, I love my sleep.  Sleep is like a prayer for me.

Shoes.  Those are fun.  I like to shop for shoes, but mostly I like to shop for gifts that I plan to give to my friends and family.

My favorite color is purple.

Mornings, as beautiful as they are, are my least favorite time of the day.  Can people be nocturnal?  I'm pretty sure I'm nocturnal.  To me the dark is like peace and quiet for my eyes.

Shopping at big businesses bothers me.  I love to shop at thrift stores!  Recycling everything is fun, especially clothing.  I recycle almost every scrap of paper I don't use.  If a plastic container is labeled as 'non-recyclable' in my area because of a number on the bottom, I send it in anyway.  Recycling food would be fantastic, too.  I wish we had a compost pile at our house.  One day I might try using handkerchiefs instead of tissue, but I haven't gotten brave enough just yet.

My secret dream, which is now not so secret, is to live on and operate a farm with lots of food and lots of animals.  It MUST include horses.  I could definitely do composting there.

ME
I am a writer
and a dreamer.
I am a sister, a friend, a daughter.
I am compassionate
and imperfect.
I love God and His creation, especially people and animals.
I love to dance and sing, even if
I'm not the best at it.
I love the ocean
the desert
the mountains.
I love my family
which includes my friends
and the Felicians.
I love to be silly and laugh
as often and as frequently as possible.
Simply,
I love to be.

This is the real me, the me who has been called to religious life and who is being challenged to develop gifts and talents that she didn't know she had, or didn't know she'd have to have.  I was scared that this "me" was trapped inside of the teacher and the 'nun', but I think I've figured out that the real me holds within her a Felician Sister who is learning how to be a teacher.  Yeah, that's me :)

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 :)