Hark the Herald Angels Sing

So I was driving this morning, surfing channels on the radio, and happened upon this Christian radio show (for those of you who know Connecticut, you'll understand how rare this is). The jockey was reading the Nativity story from Luke (Lk 2:1-22), and as I listened, I started thinking about the angels appearing to the shepherds. They didn't show up with doctrine or statutes, but with tidings of great joy, and the shepherds were, no doubt, changed by the encounter. And as I thought, I realized that each time Mary or an angel appears to someone, whether in scripture or in our own time, the apparition is one of a relationship, an encounter with the sacred, not a legalistic meeting. When people's hearts are changed, obedience to the rules will follow, but its much less often that it happens the other way around. Certainly, understanding the Catholic Church rationally helps Catholics live out their faith lives, but its the relationship with Christ that makes Christianity come alive. Sometimes we forget that Christianity, Catholicism, is about a Man, a person, THE person.

So hark, the herald angels are singing, what's our response? Do we travel a little out of the way to meet a Savior, embark on a new relationship and get to know this King in our midst? As for me, I'm trying to, its one of the reasons I came to Covecrest. Its not always easy, but so far, there is nothing I've experienced that's better.

Epiphany at the Atlanta Airport

Epiphany: a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.

Around Covecrest, Danielle is known for her epiphanies, and I love her even more for them. She is so sincere and excited whenever she discovers something new in her faith or rediscovers something she already knew. You can't watch the expression on her face as whatever it is dawns on her, without having a deep respect for the faith she has and her openness to God's spirit working in her life.

So naturally, I thought of her as I sat in the Atlanta airport fighting back tears, knowing that my expression must be similar to hers in those moments. I had been reading Radical Hospitality, a book that we missionaries were given by Chris, and with everything else that we've been doing at Covecrest I hadn't had a chance to start it until this week.

Radical Hospitality is based on the Rule of Benedict and focuses on Benedictine hospitality, which is what the Covecrest Rule of Life consists of as well. So as I was reading, I realized more and more the importance of the way of life I am already living. Most of the things the book talks about are things I already knew- we live them every weekend, every time someone comes to visit us. But reading the words, it struck me in a way that it hasn't before: I am a missionary, and I am called to be hospitable, truly hospitable, to everyone I come into contact with. That's big! Really big, really really big. I mean, wow. How amazing is that!

So I dedicate this blog in honor of Danielle, for whose many epiphanies I am very grateful. :)

Mexico Mission

Ok, so before I begin what is likely to be a lengthy blog, I want to say that my blog is by no means the full story as to what happened in Mexico. Each of us missionaries picked a different topic to write about, so please read everyone else's too :)

We got back late last night after two days of traveling from Mexico, and when I woke up this morning, I wished I had woken up in General Cepeda. That's not to say I'm not loving being back at Covecrest, but General definately has part of my heart now. The trip was amazing- we stayed at the mission house with Andrea, Kevin, and their kids, who are full-time missionaries there, and got to meet the Life Teen missionaries from Mesa, which was wonderful. But most wonderful of all, was getting to meet the people of General Cepeda and the surrounding ranchos (ranchos are small desert villages, there are 54 that are considered part of General, though some are hours away).

During my time in Mexico I was assigned to the "home visits" team (there were two work teams and an evangelization team as well), which meant that my days were blessed by visiting the homes of the elderly residents of the town or shut-ins who could not, for one reason or another, leave their homes. Andrea took a few of us with her as she went on her regular visits, well supplied with blankets, dispensas (bags of groceries), rosaries, and scarves, to give to those we were visiting. The visits all followed the same format- greetings, presentation of the dispensas, converstations, a bible reading, and prayer- but they were all touching in their own unique way. No one visit was like any other and each of the men and women who welcomed us into their homes will always be imprinted on my heart and in my memory.

One of the first homes we visited was that of Maria and her husband. Walking through the garden and seeing the well-kept home, had Andrea not told me, I never would have guessed that Maria was a woman with no legs. Andrea calls Maria a hidden saint, and she's right. Maria does more with no legs than many people do with two. She takes care of her home and her husband joyfully and fully. When we visited she was busy cleaning the floors of her home, but stopped to greet us with a beaming smile. What struck me most about her though was her faith- she lives with her husband and her mother-in-law, who is a Jehovah's Witness. Her mother-in-law is constantly berating her Catholic faith and telling her that her baptism isn't valid. Since Maria can't read, she has a difficult time defending herself to this persistent woman. But she perserveres in her faith, and Andrea visits and reads her scripture and teachings from the Catechism.

Sitting with Maria was her older sister Gabriella, who has gone blind in her old age. She was beautiful and serene and well, there aren't words to describe her. I just sat next to her on the floor and held her hand, which is something that I found myself doing with many of the people we visited. It seemed to me that what the men and women we encountered needed more, desired more, than the dispensas or blankets was human touch, was to know that they were loved and respected, were listened to and sought out, by others. These are the people that the world often passes by; whose families have, in some cases, even forgotten them; who have no one to share their stories, their history with.

But I would challenge anyone to sit next to Dona Maria or Dona Margarita or Don Francisco and not know instantly that these men and women are so very beloved by God. And in meeting them, for the first time I understood the prayer that I have said many times with others, that people might not see me but Christ, might not see me but Mary. Because in the moments I spent with those amazing people, I knew that they needed to see Christ and His mother instead of me, that they needed His perfect love and not my imperfect attempts at loving. And so for the first time, I prayed that prayer with my whole heart, instead of just my head.

I am so blessed by knowing them, though we only met for a brief time. They opened their homes and their hearts to us in a way that I've never seen done in the States. Without reserve, these poorest of the poor offered to us, strangers from a foreign land, the best that they had to offer. To watch Dona Margarita, who is about 90 years old, try and stand up to give one of us the only seat she had to offer, was heartwrenching. These people know what it means to welcome Christ, who comes in the guise of the stranger, into their homes.

And the stories they have to share! The faith through harder times than I could have ever imagined!! In the 1920's there was a Christian persecution in Mexico, and quite a few of the women we visited remembered having to hide the young men of the house from the soldiers. One woman even covered herself with lime and wore a large shawl to make herself look old so that the soldiers would leave her alone.

Before we left for mission, everyon told me that I would see Christ in the people I served and would be ministered to more than I would minister to others. Without a doubt, they were right.