This is What it Feels Like to be Led

There's a song I stumbled across a month or two ago called "What it Feels Like" by FFH. Here are the lyrics:

So this is what if feels like to walk the wilderness
and this is what if feels like to come undone
So this is what if feels like to loose my confidence
unsure of anything or anyone
So this is what if feels like to walk the desert sand
and this is what if feels like to hear my name
and to be scared to death cause I'm all alone
but feel love and peace just the same
And this may not be the road I would choose for me
but it still feels right somehow
And I have never felt you as close to me as I do right now
So this is what if feels like to be led
So this is what if feels like to have it fall apart
to be totally unglued
and find out if I accept my brokenness
I get more of me, I get all of you
If this is what if feels like to be on shaky ground
Careful of every step I take
Realizing as I stop to look around
I look around and see everything a different way
and this may not be the road I would choose for me
but it still feels right somehow
cause I have never felt you as close to me as I do right now
So this is what if feels like to be led
and this is what if feels like to be led
So this is what if feels like to just walk away
from everything I thought kept me safe
to depend just on you for every meal
and find it's better this way
oh it's better this way
And this may not be the road I would choose for me
but it still feels right somehow
And I have never felt you as close to me as I do right now
like i do right now

I love this song because it speaks to the paradox I've been living these past months, well really, these past years, on the one hand feeling completely out of control and on the other, feeling so secure in the Lord. Being led is tough, it sound easy at first, but think about it for a minute. When you're being led somewhere, you aren't in control. You don't necessarily even know where it is you're going or how you're going to get there if you happen to be lucky enough to know the end goal of the road. For me, these past months have been like walking around in a pitch black room. But at the same time, I've felt such security in knowing that I am letting the Lord lead me, in His calling. Its a tricky thing, being led. But there's no where else I'd rather be than here, even if I don't know where here is.

Where I'm at

Life has been a struggle these days. I've never been good at balancing things, and I'm terrible at discipline (if you want to know my new year's resolutions, those are them). So I've been feeling the truth of the passage from Night Prayer, "your opponent the devil is prowling like a lion for someone to devour. Resist him, solid in your faith," and haven't been doing a great job of resisting.

For some reason, Thomas Merton's book The Seven Storey Mountain called out to me this afternoon from the bookshelf. It was one I had read years ago in college, and as I was praying for a friend at the time, I thought there was some kernel of truth in it meant for her. But what I found was (surprise) for me. I opened up to the part of the book where Merton has just decided that if he can't join an order he's going to live life in the world as closely to that as a monk as he can. When I read what he was going through at that moment, the words rang true. Our lives are very different in the day-to-day sense, but the sentiment he expresses is very much what I've been feeling lately- the uncertainty, the solitude, all of it, the fear that underlies the words, all of it. And as his story does in fact end well, it gives me hope that perhaps I'll actually make it. So here's what he says:

It was a difficult and uncertain business, and I was starting again to make a long and arduious climb, alone, and from what seemed to be a great depth.
If I had ever thought I had become immune from passion, and that I did not have to fight for freedom, there was no chance of that illusion any more. It seemed that every step I took carried me painfully forward under a burden of desires that almost crushed me with the monotomy of their threat, the intimate, searching familiarity of their ever-present disgust.
I did not have any lofty theories about the vocation of a lay-contemplative. In fact, I no longer dignified what I was trying to do by the name of a vocation. All I knew was that I wanted grace, and that I needed prayer, and that I was helpless without God, and that I wnated to everything that people did to keep close to Him.
It was no longer possible to consider myself, abstractly, as being in a certain "state of life" which had special technical relations to other "states of life." All that occupied me now was the immediate practical problem of getting up my hill with this terrific burden I had on my shoulders, step by step, begging God to drag me along and get me away from my enemies and from those who were trying to destroy me.

Psalm 62

It's amazing to me how scripture can speak right to the heart. Time and again the Lord shows me His Word, opens to me His heart and His will through scripture; and time and again I am amazed at how a few verses can set my mind and heart at ease in an instant.

This afternoon my prayers were all over the place, both head and heart were racing with doubts, fears, and questions. What am I doing here? Am I loving enough? Am I doing too much?Not enough? And the more I tried to calm the unrest I was feeling, the more the thoughts would plague me. What if these thoughts aren't going away because I'm supposed to be feeling uneasy because I'm really doing something wrong?

It's my habit to pray evening prayer as I sit in the car waiting for the kids to get out of school. I have plenty of time then and there are no distractions. Now I know technically 2:30 isn't quite evening, but it's the last quiet time I get before 10pm so I think the Lord will forgive me for fudging with the times.

So anyways, sure enough, the first lines of the first psalm were just what I needed to heart to remind me that the Lord alone brings peace to my soul:

In God alone is my soul at rest;
my help comes from Him.
He alone is my rock, my stronghold,

my fortress: I stand firm

I said that first stanza of the psalm hesitantly, knowing in my head that the words had power but still caught in the churning emotions. But God, in His infinite wisdom and goodness, saw fit to repeat those words. I was once told by a very wise priest that in the midst of trial and temptation you should speak Scripture out loud because the Truth of the Word of God will combat the lies Satan is telling you. And by the time I reached the end of Psalm 62, the million questions that had been running through my head had ceased, and I could rejoice in the Lord's presence, which was what the next psalm and the canticle were about. I love the way God works!

I'd like to close this post with one of the psalm prayers that put into words the prayer of my heart.

Lord God, you reward each one according to his works. Hear us as we pour out our hearts to you, seeking your grace and secure protection. We look to you for our stable hope in a constantly changing world.

Amen.

Life in the Suburbs

So its been a few months, and here's what I've learned so far about life in the burbs: they are a dangerous place to live. I don't mean dangerous as in you might experience a home invasion by a strung-out meth addict (the kids' have an uncle who regularly reminds me that this is a distinct possibility and is very disappointed when I don't produce an emergency plan for that situation), but eternally dangerous.

There is nothing objectively bad about the suburbs with its comforts and conveniences- don't get me wrong, I love my big bathroom and spacious shower (its a big change from the double-wide), but its a slippery slope. In the midst of so many blessings it can be harder to remember who it is who gave them. I've never worried about money or finances until now, which is ridiculous because I have more than I need. But being surounded by people with portfolios (and not the art kind thank you very much) and IRAs, I find myself feeling the need to save more "just in case." Savings won't bring me security, just a false sense of it that can be very dangerous. Comforts and conveniences can make us forget to turn to God in our need; they can make us lazy and complacent if we aren't vigilant.

At the end of the day though, it like the psalmist says, "He has put into my heart a greater joy than they have from abundance of corn and new wine." I think I'll be okay here in the burbs, as long as I keep my eyes on the Giver and not the gifts.

Last Week

So here we are, the last week at Covecrest, my last week as a Life Teen missionary. I can't believe its already here! It's strange how it seems like just yesterday we arrived and at the same time like I've been living this life my whole life. I have learned so much this year, about myself, about the Lord, about other people, about how to love. So thank you to all the people who have made this year possible for me- my benefactors, prayer partners, family, and friends who have supported me and joined me in this mission. I couldn't have done it without you!

In a few short days I leave this place, with my heart heavy but ready for what the Lord is calling me to next. I am excited to see what He is going to do in this next stage of my life, and He's already begun putting the pieces together. I'm going to continue to pursue the vision He has put on my heart for a childcare center that serves families living at poverty levels here in Atlanta, and I feel secure in the fact that its His vision, His banner, and that He will accomplish it. As that takes shape, I will be living with and working for a wonderful family in the Atlanta area, helping with the kids as the mom fights cancer. I met with them yesterday, and the Lord has given me great peace in knowing that I am meant to be with them. One of the blessings that I am taking with me from Covecrest is a missionary heart, which means that my life is a life of love and service for the Lord, not a segmented existence of job, home, social life, religion. So I will leave this place and continue to live the life of a missionary, a life of prayer and service, of hope and faith, wherever He leads me. The pieces are falling into place, or at least I see more of the pieces, even if I don't know how they'll fit together yet.

Stay Tuned . . .

Prayer Staff

This summer my "job" consists in large part of heading up our prayer staff, a group of 6 summer staffers who aren't assigned to a particular parish that week. Instead, they make holy hours and offer up prayers for the campers. They bless the rooms and buildings before each week starts, and are also part of prayer teams that meet throughout the week, offering prayer or counsel for any teen/adult in need.

There has been amazing fruit that has come from having a set of people solely devoted to prayer. What I have noticed most has been the changes that occur in the prayer staff themselves. I have loved watching their enthusiasm, the way they throw themselves into it with everything they have. Each week, I encourage the summer staffers to take ownership of prayer staff, adding to it whatever they'd like. And I have been blown away. Each week they have added something different, unique to the group of people on the staff. One week they fasted from dessert and prayed a rosary together. Another week they made sure to pray their little crown for the camp coordinator together. Its been beautiful to watch these men and women grow in their faith as they spend time ministering and being ministered to. I am so blessed!!!!

Covecrest vs the Real World

So as we begin summer here at Covecrest, I've been getting a lot of questions from people about what I'm going to do next, how I'm going to survive in the "real world", what I'm going to do when I grow up (with the implication that that should happen now). I've had friends express worry that I'm not capable of dealing with "real life" when I'm not here. And my answer to them has been that this is real life. The life I have been living for the past nine months has been more real in many ways than the life I lived for 23 years. And I have been confronting things, dealing with my own brokenness, learning how to interact with others, live in community, and live the Gospel. And its hard. Its difficult; it tries my patience; it frustrates me; it hurts. But it is also amazingly free, and joyful, hopeful, and beautiful. And I'm not going back. Whether I'm technically a missionary or not, I'm going to live the missionary lifestyle for the rest of my life. I want more than the world offers.

And so, here's what I'm going to do when I leave Covecrest: I'm going to live a prudent life, a supernaturally prudent life. I'm going to seek the kingdom of God, and believe me, no wait- believe Jesus, He's the one who said it-, everything else will fall into place. That's not to say my life will always be easy, that's not to say that I won't have difficulties or problems. I'm not looking at the world through rose colored glasses, but I am looking at it through the promise of the Gospel. And I am going to follow what He's calling me to do, whether I understand it or not, whether it makes sense or not. I don't know for sure where my path will lead me, but I know that God does, and so as long as I follow Him, its all going to be okay.

I'm not naive, and I'm not overlooking the very real concerns of life- rent, insurance, bills, etc., etc. But, my God is a BIG God. He is mighty and capable, and loves me. And I'm going to focus on Him. He knows what I need, what my heart desires, even more than I do sometimes, most times even. What else do I need to know? Who else am I going to trust?

The Life Teen Staff Retreat

The Life Teen staff gathered this week at Covecrest for a retreat. Everyone from the Mesa office, the Atlanta office, and all our area contacts arrived to spend two days praying and spending time together. Dr. Allen Hunt, an Emory graduate by the way, came to lead the retreat. Dr. Hunt is a former Methodist minister who entered the Catholic Church a little over a year ago, and is an amazing speaker, teacher, and witness. His website is www.allenhuntshow.com.

We ended the retreat with this prayer from Archbishop Oscar Romero, a powerful reminder of our role in ministry, one that is full of freedom and hope.

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.

I love my life!

Last night we celebrated Thomas' birthday here at camp. To close out the night, Thomas requested adoration with praise and worship. As we all knelt around the Blessed Sacrament singing praised to the Lord, I looked around at my brothers and sisters and realized how amazingly blessed I am. How many people in this world can take out Jesus whenever they need to see him? I take it for granted sometimes that I can go into the chapel and expose the Blessed Sacrament whenever I like.

Yesterday evening after evening prayer, I stayed behind in the chapel to have some quiet prayer time. Because I've been sick, its been awhile since I've done a Holy Hour in the chapel, and I had so missed seeing the face of my Lord. So after a few minutes of praying before the tabernacle, I went and got the key so I could see Him face to face.

The blessing of adoration is one that I hope I never take for granted again. It makes me so sad when I think of all of the people in this world who don't have the opportunity to adore Christ, even though they may desire it. There are so few perpetual adoration chapels around, and many parishes only offer adoration monthly, or weekly if you're lucky. Eucharistic adoration has been a part of the Catholic Church's tradition for centuries, and is a practice that all Catholics should be exposed to. The Eucharist is one the greatest blessings God has given us, and adoration is one of my favorite things about being Catholic because during it, I get to gaze on my Beloved and my Beloved gets to gaze on me.

I'm really going to miss the blessing of adoration anytime when I leave here. I only hope that there's always a parish nearby me where I can spend time face-to-face with Christ.

P.S.
Here's a website that has a history of Eucharistic Adoration
http://www.therealpresence.org/eucharst/pea/history.htm

This is what God asks

Last week during evening prayer I was struck by one of the antiphons, which made me realize just how much more complicated I make my life than I need to.

"This is what God asks of you: Trust in the One whom He has sent."

I read it, and was like "duh, of course that's what God asks." But then I thought about it a little bit, and it was as though something clicked in my head and heart. It's actually that simple. I just have to trust.

Of course, this implies that I know the One whom God has sent, which means I need to be praying and listening to what God is asking of me. And that is where the trick lies . . .

In the World Not of the World

This past weekend I traveled to West Palm Beach, Florida for the wedding of my dear friend, Elaine. While I was more than excited to see her- it had been months and months-, I was also a little nervous, because it had also been months and months since I had been in the world by myself. It was a little bit of a rocky start; I realized when it was time to go out with the girls, that I hadn't brought "going out clothes". It had been a long time since I'd "gone out"and I wasn't used to it.

Thankfully, going back into the world is a bit like riding a bike. Once I was in it, I remembered how to be. And boy, was it nice to get my nails done (all in the duty of being a bridesmaid of course) and dress in grown-up clothes all weekend- I felt like a lady. But, I also remembered how to be me, and I didn't let the world take over my identity. Over the course of the weekend, I had so much fun. I spent time with old and new friends, remembered how much I love dancing, and so much else. Of course I missed Covecrest, how could I not? But I realized that I am not dependent on this community or being up in the mountains to maintain my identity in Christ. I still prayed, and it was because my heart wanted to, cried out for it, not simply because of the routine. In fact, in some ways, I prayed more when I was gone than when I'm here (I know, I know, it sounds impossible).

This life, this year, has prepared me to go back into the world and be in it, not of it. I'm not done learning yet, and I'm sure there will always be struggles, but I'm on the right track, and I'm grateful for what I've been given.

Holy Thursday

"It was into the wildest part Jesus went to pray"

Last week, we took our day off as a desert day, which is when we spend the day in silence, meditation, and prayer. I chose to spend the afternoon in the small garden next to Mike's Place, one of my favorite spots here at Covecrest. Hidden by tall bushes and vines entwined around the fence, the garden is simple and beautiful. It's wild, not perfectly kept, but a perfect spot for reflection. As I sat in the garden, I wondered if Gethsemane was a place such as this, wondered if Jesus spent the Passover night in a garden like ours.

Tonight after Holy Thursday mass, we processed with the Blessed Sacrament from the ampitheater, and I assumed we were headed for the chapel (this is the first Holy Week in years that I have not been very very involved in the planning and execution of Holy Week Services, and I have been glorying in that). Instead, we entered the garden. And as I kneeled on the stone, gazing upon the tabernacle through the branches of a bush, looking at Jesus sitting in the spot where I had sat a week before, I felt that God was answering my prayer in a way. Maybe Gethsemane did look like our garden physically, maybe not, but in any case, it was a place such as ours- a place of prayer, a place to wait and watch with the Lord, a place where the Lord is praying for you.

Chapter of Faults

This past week we here at Covecrest had a community meeting where we all (families, missionaries, and staff alike) sat down to talk about our community, where we are and where we've been failing. As a family, we did an activity called the "chapter of faults." Beginning with the oldest member of the community and ending with the youngest, each person shared and asked forgiveness for the ways in which they've failed the community, beginning with the sentence "I have sinned against God and the community. Trusting in God's mercy and forgiveness I ask for your forgiveness for . . . " There were no reactions, no judgements, no condemnations, just a simple admission of what you've done wrong. The idea behind this was that we could all admit our wrongs and failings, and commit, as a whole community, to work harder, to live more fully into the Rule.

One of the difficulties living here is that we get complimented a lot on the lifestyle we've chosen. It can be easy to fall into the trap of complacency, to stop striving to do better, to pray more, be more hospitable, to love deeper and better. This lent, I'm working on this, as is the community in general. Its something we've talked a lot about, and the chapter of faults was a step in that direction for us.

Okay, this admittedly might sound strange. Public confessions are not exactly normal these days. Its difficult to admit wrong-doing and ask for forgiveness, to a single person, much less 25, but it was a weight off of my shoulders to apologize to these people that I love. And as daunting as the task of examining the areas where I've slacked off or failed outright was, it was a good thing for me to do. Its much easier to look at the faults of others than to look seriously into our own, at least I know it is for me.

I think that the chapter of faults was a positive experience, as awkward as it was when we started. I feel closer to the rest of this community, like we're all on the same page again. There aren't any walls up between us and I love them more now than I did before (which was a lot). In the same way, I know that they love me too even more deeply than I knew it before.

Relationship

Catholicism, all of Christianity for that matter, is about a relationship with a person, The Person- Christ. This truth is something that I've noticed has been missed in many people's experience in the Church. So I'd like to share a little bit about what my relationship with Jesus is and what it has meant to me.

There's a difference between knowing about someone and knowing someone. For example, I can read biographies on George Washington and know a great deal about him, but because he lived hundreds of years ago, I can never know him. I can't have a conversation with him, know what is happening in his heart, know what's on his mind. In the same way, there's a difference between knowing about God and knowing God.The difference between the two situations is that even though Jesus lived thousands of years ago, we can still know Him. I can read the Catechism of the Church, the Bible, and any number of books filled with information about God, His laws, His teachings. But if I never let it into my heart; if I never actually approach Him as a person, then I will only ever know about Him.

One of the things Jesus has been telling me lately in prayer is that I am Beloved, that I am loved intimately and personally by Him, in a way that no one else is, not loved more or less, just in a unique way because I am unique. He's been saying this to me through the Scripture that I've been reading (when you read a passage in the Bible that speaks to your heart, remember that its Him speaking to you, not just to the collective people of the Church), through the prayers of others, through the sunsets and nice days. He shows me He loves me in so many little ways, and it blows my mind to see how many times He says "I love you" when I'm open to hearing it.

The reason that I go to mass each week, the reason why I go to adoration and prayer groups, is to spend time with someone I love- God. You can't have a relationship with someone you never see, never talk to, right? Its the same with Jesus. It may seem weird, but He's just as present in the Tabernacle of the Church as the person sitting next to you in the pew. And He's going to respond when you talk to Him just like they would if you said hello. He wants to know about your life; He wants to be a part of it. So tell Him, talk to Him about your day, what went well and what didn't, what friend upset you, what family matters are troubling you. And then listen. Because He will answer, maybe not in the way you expect, but He will answer.

Knowing that I've got the One who loves me more than anyone with me throughout the day means the world to me. And having a relationship with Him has changed me. When I think about the mercy that He has shown me, the fact that I shouldn't be loved as much as I am, I realize that in turn I need to show mercy to others. The understanding He shows me when I make a bad decision or act in a way that is not positive, makes me realize that I need to show that to others. Its just like the Our Father says: "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." What a tricky clause that is- we're actually asking God to forgive us using the same measure that we use to forgive others, to give us the mercy we give others. And forgiveness doesn't mean accepting the sin, it means accepting the person.

So yea, I think that this is going to be a Lent of living into my identy as Beloved. I'm really looking forward to getting to spend more and more time with the Savior I love and getting to know Him better.

Job

The book of Job is one of my favorite books of the Bible, mostly because I can empathize with Job in his sufferings. As a result of illness I've gone through many periods when I've felt like Job and railed against God, not understanding why, being angry about what I'd lost or what I couldn't do. But more than that, the value of the book of Job in my life, the lesson and the message that has always stuck with me, is encompassed in job 1:21 "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!" Strange words from a man whose life has been stricken with every kind of trial known to man, but oh how true! I've been reading through Job during my holy hours lately, and realizing how much respect I have for him and the wisdom and faith it takes to utter those words and really truly mean them, which Job does.

One of the things that Job struggles with is not understanding why all this has befallen him. He knows that he hasn't sinned, that his pain is not a result of his own actions, and is steadfast in that claim. He wants God to explain Himself and tell him why. Which is a feeling that I can understand very well. But in reading Job, I've come to the realization that I really don't need to know why I'm sick. I mean, look at Job. The witness of his sufferings and his redemption have stood for centuries, for millenia, and the glory that his story has given God is beyond anything he could have imagined. When I think about that, I can only wonder what purpose He has in store for my small share of pain. And I know He has one. The fruits this illness has born already, whether through offering it up in prayer, or the clearer priorities it has given me, the patience, the gratitude for the small things, have been worth it. And that's only the things that I know about. Who knows what the All Powerful has been doing that is beyond my understanding.

And in the end, Job's story has a very happy ending. Job is restored to his former prosperity of course, but more than that he is made an intercessor for his friends, and the Lord hears his prayers because they are born out of his suffering. Its because of and through that suffering that Job becomes an intercessor for those around him, which is a very special gift and a remarkable blesisng.

So I will always choose to say Blessed be the Name of the Lord because I know that God is taking care of me, has bigger plans for me than I do for myself, just as He did for Job. This illness is not something that I can control or change, so my worrying about what I cannot do, or what others may think is quite simply a waste of time. But praising God, well, that is never a waste of time.

St. Andrew

This afternoon some of us missionaries traveled to St. Helena's Church in Clayton for mass where Fr. Foley, a visiting priest gave one of the best homilies I've heard in a long time. The topic he chose to talk about was St. Andrew, which at first seemed strange- the first reading was about the call of Samuel and the Gospel about the call of the first disciples. St. Andrew is mentioned in but one line, so I wasn't expecting him to be the center of the homily. Which was exactly the point.

Father talked about how St. Andrew was the first of Jesus' disciples, the first to react to the call, and that it was through him that St. Peter was brought to Jesus. But though the first, Andrew was not included in the inner circle of the apostles- Peter, James, and John. He's only mentioned 12 times in the New Testament, and nine of those times he's only referred to as one of the 12. Andrew was an ordinary man who answered the call God placed on his heart, he wasn't a great man or a genius or an orator, just a man who did was he was called to do, no more, no less. And that, Father said, was what made Andrew a saint. The three times that we read about St. Andrew's actions in the New Testament he is bringing someone to Jesus. How profound.

The point of Father's homily was that we don't need to be anyone other than who we are to do God's work. St. Andrew was content to be an ordinary man, he didn't seek greatness, and we have no record of him being upset or jealous, of being unsatisfied with his place. He did the work that he was called to and he did it well- he brought people to the Lord.

As I'm still trying to figure out my place here at Covecrest and my place in the world, what I'm doing now and what I will be doing next, the example of Saint Andrew is what I need to remember to simply be me and to simply be God's. I don't need anything more.

The Feast of the Epiphany

Ok so I know I'm a little late, as its now two days after the feast day. But late or no I wanted to share this poem with you about the day. Its called the Journey of the Magi by T.S. Eliot, and its one of the very few poems that I actually like. I read it in high school, and it has stuck with me since then, especially the final stanza. Simple, but complex at the same time, Eliot points out to us during the Christmas season that the Incarnation and the Cruxificion are tied together.

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times when we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities dirty and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wineskins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

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.