The Call (Part II)

The wonderful Sister Laura and I at my graduation
party in May 2008

Well, after the initial freak out and refusal to believe that any of this was happening to me, I opened slowly to the idea of becoming a Sister.  I told my house community in Ecuador over dinner one night, and I let my Mom and a few close friends know over the internet.    I sent an S.O.S. email to Sr. Laura Leming, a Marianist sister who had been my professor and mentor while at UD.   Her wise and caring response closed with these words from Julian of Norwich:  All shall be well!  All shall be well!  All manner of things shall be well!



I wanted to believe her and Julian, but I truthfully didn’t see how things would ever be well again if I was being called to be a Sister, mostly because I had no real idea of what becoming a Sister means.  Even growing up in a Catholic family and attending sixteen years of Catholic school, I wasn’t really encouraged to consider that my vocation could be something besides marriage.

I grew up hearing “Vocation Prayers” at my parish.  If you’re Catholic, you’ve probably joined in saying one of these at the end of a Mass or two.  It’s a prayer that we say to ask for God to call “laborers into the harvest.”  Although sometimes these prayers include all vocations, most often they focus on the priesthood and religious life.

I always thought the prayers sounded a little desperate.  They gave me the sense that our Church valued Brothers, Sisters, and priests, but that becoming one was not really something someone in their right mind would choose to do.   And so we had to beg God to rope people into it:  Pretty pleeeease with sugar on top, God, force some poor suckers, but not us (or not our kids and grandkids), to take one for the team!   

Little Me always felt a sorry for the unsuspecting victims whom God picked after hearing the Vocation Prayer enough times.  They would now have to join that group of people separate from normal human beings who don’t get to have a wife or husband or kids or money and have to do whatever they’re told.  What a drag!

Once God started pestering me into becoming one of those “poor suckers,” I grew to resent the Vocation Prayer.  I watched my fellow Catholics mouth the words all too calmly. “Easy for you to say,” I thought indignantly.  Those people had no idea what they were doing to my life with all that stupid vocation praying!

Of course, I’m saying all of this a bit tongue in cheek.  But my point is the following: my perceptions echo a societal misunderstanding of this uncommon path.  Is it any wonder that I freaked out when I felt that first nudge to the religious life during that fateful November of 2008 in Ecuador? 

For starters, I think that in general, people think I am embarking on a life of utter sacrifice.  Yes, it involves giving up very tangible things, which is difficult!  I’ve shared my struggles with you.  Especially in a world that tells us that sex and money are the end all, be all of the human experience, choosing this might seem absolutely loco.  But, come on, do you really think people would do it if there wasn’t something wonderful involved?!  Every life involves some degree of sacrifice and a greater degree of gift. 

As Ronald Rolheiser says in the The Holy Longing, “every choice is a renunciation” of something else.  The call, I think, is about figuring out what is the GIFT that we’re willing to renounce other gifts for.  The joy we feel when we find that gift makes the sacrifices seem less daunting.  That’s the idea of “governing desire” that Fr. Jim Martin told me about.

In the case of the religious life, the gifts may be more unseen and are certainly less talked about, but they are real and deep.  A mother who can’t imagine life without her beloved children is willing to endure sleepless nights and tiring days to give them all that they need.  I am willing to wrestle with the “renunciations” of the religious life to embrace the beauty and freedom of giving all of my being to God and to the service of my sisters and brothers. 

Last Sunday, the Catholic Church celebrated the World Day of Prayer for Vocations, a day set aside specifically to pray for vocations to the priesthood and deaconate, to the religious life (both male and female), and to the missionary life in all forms.  I spent the day with Sister Janet, helping her to lead a retreat for young adult women and men in our diocese who are intentionally considering what God might be calling them to at this point in their life – a “Life Awareness” Day.

Luis and I being questionably normal but undoubtedly joyful
and passionate at a youth rally in El Paso last year

I served on a panel with 3 others: Sister Lourdes, a Franciscan Missionary of Mary from Mexico; Father Jose, a diocesan priest from El Paso (both of them in their 30’s), and my friend Luis, age 25, who is discerning the priesthood while living with the Columban Fathers.  We all responded to the question: How did you know?

I can’t describe how it felt to sit next to them and share intimate experiences of God's call.  Our stories were all different but marked by a similar passion.  Listening to them would blast anyone’s stereotypes of the priesthood and religious life.  It was clear in each one’s sharing that we are not just “taking one for the team,” by accepting this “life of sacrifice” for our world and our Church.  We are energetic, joyful, normal (most of the time) young people with gifts and faults who have found that one thing that sets our hearts on fire.   I laughed, and I cried, and I felt overcome with gratitude to be sitting right where I was.

Our community and friends proudly reppin' the
Sisters of Charity at the Voice of the Voiceless dinner

Two weeks ago, my community and I attended the Voice of the Voiceless, a social justice benefit dinner in El Paso put on by Annunciation House.  This year, they chose to honor women religious in both the U.S. and Mexico for the faithful service they have shown to migrants.  What a moment it was when all of the Sisters present were invited to stand!  They did so humbly and were met with thunderous applause.  My heart sang: I can’t WAIT to be a Sister!

During my early discernment, I read a pamphlet called “God Isn’t Trying to Trick You.”  As obvious as that statement sounds, I needed to hear it, and hear it a lot of times.  My spiritual director during my second year in Ecuador, Hermana Maca, told me that if I was called to be a Sister, one day it would be a joyful thing.  I am beginning to know the truth of Maca’s words.

In 2008, the angry question in my heart was, “God, how can this be!?”

Now, I ponder, “God, how can it be that I am this blessed?”

God didn’t call me to be a Sister because God thought it might be funny, or because God wanted me to suffer, or because God had to meet a certain quota in response to so many Vocation Prayers and thought that I was as good as any.  No.  God created every hair on my head and knows every pulse of my heart.  God, who is Abundant, Irrational Love, wants more for me than I could ever want for myself.

That’s the beautiful thing about the call:  God. Wants. Our. Joy. Period.

I’d like to propose a new kind of vocation prayer, one that recognizes that all vocations are equally precious in God’s eyes and equally enriching to our Church; one that takes our expansive-loving, joy-bestowing God into account:

God, we know you’re crazy for us.  You’ve created us, and you know us, and you love us beyond the wildest capabilities of our imaginations.  Help each of us to discover the unique and beautiful way that you call us to respond to that love. May we be open to embrace your generous dreams for us.  Give us trust, knowing that it is you who call and you who lead.  Give us wisdom, at every step of our life, to invite you to be our guide.  Give us courage, that we may claim our terrifying and marvelous role as your hands, feet, and heart in this world.  Amen.

If you've never thought of yourself as an instrument of God, maybe now is the time.  If you’ve never asked God, “Hey, what do think I should do?” maybe now is the time.  The call isn’t a one-time event; it’s an unfolding experience that grows as we grow.  It’s never too early or too late to begin to invite God into our decisions.

Life is sweet for these 2 sisters-to-be, Andrea and myself!

And, a special PSA to anyone who wonders, even an eency-weency bit, if your call might include one of the more uncommon paths (priesthood, religious life, or missionary life):    Do not be afraid!  God does not impose burdens on poor suckers; God invites each of us to greater joy than we could ever imagine.  You owe it to yourself to check it out!  A little nudge, whether exciting or alarming or confusing to you at the moment, could be the doorway to something wonderful.

It's been a bumpy ride, and I'm sure the road won't ever be perfectly smooth.  But I can't imagine driving down any other.  I only hope that every person can find the deep peace and down-to-the-soul gladness that I am stumbling upon as a Sister-in-Training.  Sr. Laura, somehow you and Julian were right.  Truly, all is well!

The Call (Part I)

“Let me tell you the story ‘bout the call that changed my destiny…”

Okay, I’m guessing that my peers who grew up on 90’s pop music just bobbed their heads and mouthed these opening words to the 2001 Backstreet Boys hit “The Call.”  Maybe you even ended the phrase mimicking AJ’s catchy inflection: destinay-ay.  Most of the song, which is about a wishy-washy dude being unfaithful to his girl, has nothing to do with my vocational journey.  But this first line came to my mind at the L.A. Religious Education Congress when my community and I had a chance to chat with Fr. James Martin, a Jesuit priest and one of our favorite spiritual writers.

Fr. Jim was just as approachable, kind, and sincere in person as one might suppose from his writings.  When I told him that I’m in formation with the Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati, he smiled with genuine delight and asked me how it’s all going.  Then he asked if I wanted to hear the two best pieces of advice he’s got on living the religious life.   I was touched and replied that obviously I did!

1.       “Ok, the first one is this: stay true to your governing desire.  You’ll have lots of desires in your life,” he said.  “You’ll desire to get married; you’ll desire to have kids; you’ll desire lots of different things.  But keep going back to that question: What is my governing desire?  And that is what will lead you and pull you through.”

2.       “The second one is simple,” he then shared.  “In the difficult times, go back to the power of the call.”

Fr. James Martin and I

I’m 98% sure that when Fr. Jim said that second thing about “the call,” he was not referring to the 2001 Backstreet Boys hit.  I do think that maybe he was talking about that divine invitation that God speaks into each of our hearts, helping to guide us to our vocation.  In fact, the word vocation comes from the Latin word “vocare” which means “called.”  Our vocation is the unique way that we’re called to be God’s love in the world.

We come to know our call through various and varied experiences.  It is something that grows and becomes clearer throughout our lives, but there are often telling moments we can identify that revealed parts of our call to us.  They might be fairly ordinary events that seem somehow mystical to the person experiencing them: an unforgettable first date; a life-changing encounter with someone in need; hearing a song that seems it was written just for you.  Fr. Jim's advice is wise for anyone in any life, I think -- when we hit bumps in the road, retelling the story of how it all began might give us some insight into why we are where we are and some courage to keep pushing ahead.

The first “telling moments" of my own personal call came as quite a shock, as I had never given a conscious thought to becoming a Sister. I want to write them down today (and share them with you).  Here goes:  Let me tell you the story ‘bout the call that changed [revealed] my destiny.

Our neighborhood in Duran, Ecuador

As you read in my first blog entry, my call to the religious surfaced during my time as a volunteer in Ecuador with the program called Rostro de Cristo.  Some crazy impulse, also known as God, inspired me and ten other recent college graduates to commit one year living together in community and walking beside the people of Duran, Ecuador, an impoverished town outside of Guayaquil on the Pacific coast.  (My one year actually became two – another surprise from God and a story for a different time!).   We each had different work placements in the community and also spent a lot of time, true to the mission of Rostro, just being with our neighbors.  God transformed us and opened our eyes as we entered closely into the lives of people who struggle with great economic poverty but who live a powerful faith life.

The volunteers, minus Elyse and Amy!

A few months into the year, we loaded up the 12 passenger van and drove to the little beach town of Crucita (little cross) where would we spend a weekend on retreat.  It was a much needed time of rejuvenation for us as we were dealing with all that comes with being an international volunteer.  I missed my family and friends dearly; I already fantasized about the moment that I would see my parents again in the Cincinnati airport in August.  Learning to live in community was hard; it was too early to see all of the rewards.  At the same time, we were processing the poverty and pain that surrounded us.

On Saturday afternoon, I sat on my towel in the sand, feeling the wind whip my hair around gently as I contemplated the vastness of the water before me.  I talked to God and wondered many things.  Was I right to break up with my boyfriend in August?  How will I make it through the next nine months?  What will I do when I get back to the U.S.?  How will I know what career I’m supposed to follow?  How will I know who I’m supposed to marry? (I’ve always been good at excessive worry and rumination.)

Very clearly, I felt a deep sense inside of me:  ‘Just wait,’ said the loving voice.  ‘Trust me, and all will be as it should be in time.’

Crucita

The next morning, I sat in the same spot, my heart a bit more peaceful as I considered the hand of God guiding my future.  That’s when that seemingly quiet, kind, and gentle voice from the day before returned, this time in a different mood.  I don’t know how, but the words floated into my consciousness: “You should be a nun.”

I reared around, trying to find out who was playing this weird joke on me.  But there was no one, just the words hanging in the air.  “How strange,” I thought.  “Where did that come from?”  It disturbed me a bit, but I didn’t think too much of it.  Maybe it was just the St. Teresa of Avila prayer book I was reading putting ideas in my head.  They would surely soon disappear.

The next day, we were back in Guayaquil.  A few of the girls from my house and I had made plans to visit with a community of nuns from Peru.  We took the bus downtown to their lovely home.  They gave us time to pray in their chapel and toured us through the convent.  Despite the peaceful environment, I felt increasingly nervous in their house.  Then, they showed us a video about their ministries.  As images scrolled across the screen of the Sisters teaching, singing, hugging little children, handing out food, etc., my stomach flipped.  Something mysterious inside of me said, “I could see myself doing that!”  I started to sweat in terror.  What was happening?  I held the feelings inside and looked out the window on the bus ride home.

Melissa and I at work

Two days later, I was at my morning worksite – a clinic where Melissa, a fellow Rostro de Cristo volunteer, and I worked in health promotion.  I spent a lot of time in the Psychologist’s office, helping with pre-HIV exam counseling.  Francia, the psychologist, was also a counselor for children from the neighboring school.  On this particular Tuesday, Francia was out, so I was in the office alone.  A cute little girl I had never seen before wandered up to the office door.

“Hola, amorcita! (Hi, love!)” I said as she poked her head in.  We started to chat.  She told me her name was Jennifer and she was 12 years old.  She asked if I was a psychologist.  I told her that I studied psychology but would have to study for a few more years to become a psychologist.  Then I asked her, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I couldn’t have prepared myself for what came next.  Innocently, she smiled.  “Yo quiero ser una monjita.  (I want to be a nun)”

“Are you for real, God?” I thought, looking up in no particular direction as my face flushed.  Suddenly, the conversation wasn’t about the little girl anymore.  I pretended to be delighted, but I began to interrogate her:  How long have you known you want to be a nun?  Why would you ever want to do that?  Don’t you want to get married?  Don’t you want to have kids?

I was a maniac, trying to squeeze wisdom out of this 12 year old girl who answered each question with uncanny poise.  Finally, the recess bell rang.  “Bueno, hasta luego! (Well, see you later!)” she said and slipped away, totally unaware of the storm she had just stirred up in my heart.

Instinctively, I dialed down to the nurse’s office where Melissa was working.  “Can you come here for a minute?”  I heard her feet on the concrete stairs.  As soon as she sat down, I started to sob and told her everything.  “It’s possible that God could be calling you to the religious life,” she said, comforting me gently.  “But you don’t need to know that right now.  God will show you in God’s time.” 

Her words calmed me momentarily, but my heart remained troubled.  Later that night, I frantically wrote in my journal:

11/5/2008

God, seriously, what are you doing to me?!  I’m just sitting there, trying to work, and little Jennifer comes in and…What does this mean?  This year is already so hard for me, and now this?  The life of a nun is not the kind of life I want to lead. The thought brings me pain.  I don’t want to follow it, pray about it, or even think about it.  I’ll do anything you want God – just not that!

God had called, and I had pressed the ignore button.  But the "Missed Call" message remained there, flashing stubbornly on the screen…

To be continued

Community

I was too excited to sleep Wednesday night awaiting what Thursday would bring. Romina and I were actually messaging each other from our respective bedrooms down the hall because the mounting sleepless anticipation just had to be shared.  What were we looking forward to, you may be asking yourself: A great party?  A tropical vacation?  Better.  It was the (drumroll)… Los Angeles Religious Education Congress! (pushes glasses up nose).  I definitely made the right life choice, didn’t I? 

Our house community, minus Peggy who we missed dearly, flew to Anaheim to join approximately 38,000 Catholics for a weekend of learning and celebrating our faith.  We’d been looking forward to it ever since Andrea attended last year and came back bursting with outstanding reviews.  I joke about my nerdy joy over attending, but it really is quite an impressive event!  It's not just for religious educators but really for anyone excited about their faith.  Staff in the L.A. Religious Education office work for 2 months of the year planning the over 200 workshops, 10 Masses, and other events and prayer experiences.

Tongan dancers at the opening of the Congress

The Congress opened Friday morning with a breathtaking ceremony.  There were Tongan dancers, an amazing choir, and a rousing discourse by Sr. Edith Prendergast, the director of Religious Education in the Diocese of Los Angeles and the engine behind the whole weekend.  The elation and wonder felt in those initial moments only grew throughout next three days.

I’m wishing that I could share everything with you, but I’ll try to give you a taste without writing a novel.  My number one piece of advice is this – read anything and everything written by the following people who I was lucky enough to see present in Anaheim:  Jack Jezreel, Kathleen Norris, Fr. James Martin, Fr. Greg Boyle, Fr. Richard Rohr, Fr. Ronald Rohlheiser, Fr. James Heft, Sr. Maureen Sullivan.  Trust me: your life will be significantly better if you get to know these modern spiritual geniuses.

Along with the imparted insights from the presenters, perhaps the most powerful part of being there was the palpable sense of community that is the heart of our faith.  Do you know what it feels like to go to Mass with probably 20,000 other dedicated members of the Body of Christ?  Looking around the packed arena left me with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the tradition I was brought up in. 

The seats were filled with people of all colors and all ages from all over the U.S. and the world.  It was getting a real electrifying taste of the “Catholic”-ness of our Church.  We sang and read and prayed in many languages – English, Spanish, Tagalog, French, and Tongan.  Many offered their talents to fill the space with vibrant joy – dancers, singers, musicians, lectors, catechists, preachers, ministers.  Mass felt like the true celebration it is meant to be.

Mass at the Religious Education Congress

As a wonderful group of dancers and servers dressed the altar in the center of the Arena for the Liturgy of the Eucharist, the words of the good old John Foley church song, “One Bread, One Body” popped into my mind.  “Many the gifts; many the works.  One in the Lord of all.”  How awe-inspiring to think of each person at the Conference returning to their local community and living out what they learned that weekend.  THIS is Church, I thought.  Within that diversity of those gathered there were so many personalities, passions, and gifts.  And to be sure there was discord represented -  a slew of different ideas, opinions, political persuasions, and ways of expressing faith.  But when it comes right down to it, we can pull up a chair, side by side around the table of Lord, and break bread together.  This is the challenge and the marvelous gift of our “universal” Church.

Kathleen Norris said in her talk that Church is “inescapably communal.”  It seems that our salvation does not rest just in an isolated relationship with God but rather in letting that relationship open us wider and wider to our oneness with all of our brothers and sisters.  In the words of Jack Jezreel, founder of JustFaith ministries:  “The reign of God must be relational.”

All we had heard in the talks echoed this call to community that I felt clearly as the thousands present came forward to receive the Eucharist.  The “Amen” we were all saying was not just a rote, empty word.  It connects directly to a life of faith in action.  It is a commitment to communion with God and others; to taking that self-emptying way into our own strides and giving of who we are for others.  It is recognition that encountering the “Real Presence” is not some magical thing that happens once a week at Mass and stays there.  It MUST transcend our lives.  It is a willingness to seek out, revere, and serve the Real Presence experienced in Eucharist in every single person that we meet, in all of Creation, and especially in the poor.

Romina, Andrea and I with Jack Jezreel of JustFaith Ministries

Everything in our faith points us right back to the two Commandments that Jesus considered to be the most important: Love the Lord your God with your whole heart, soul and mind.  And love your neighbor as yourself.  As Sr. Maureen Sullivan put it, “We’re meant to be Sacraments to each other.”  At a rocky moment in Catholic history, I was reminded of the goodness, joy, and unity at the heart of it all.

I felt the same sense a few days ago as I sat in the Sacred Heart Social Ministry office with Hector.  We’ve gotten to know this dear elderly man well over the last months as he sought our support during his wife’s terrible illness.   She died yesterday.  Today, there were glistening trails of tears traversing his rough, sun and wind beaten face.  He was a bit dirty, smelled like sweat and smoke, and looked totally worn out, like a marathon runner who has finally crossed the finished line and must now catch his breath.

Hector fought so hard for his wife for the last few years.  They live in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, where she was unable to get the treatment that she needed.  Although he was a U.S. Resident, she had no U.S. documents.    He did everything he could to try to get her a humanitarian visa, but it was to no avail.  He eventually took the classes and spent the $600+ needed to apply to become a citizen himself and then petition for his wife. He sold much of what they owned to pay for this.  Even after all of that, his petition wasn’t approved.

Hector came to us to see if we could help pay for the funeral and burial, which would cost 10,000 pesos, or almost $800.  As I was filling out the paperwork required to give out emergency financial help, word about his story got around the office.  There were people sitting in the lobby, hoping to be picked up for a day of work through our job program.  There was also a Citizenship class going on in the Adult Education room.  Nobody there is well off, but people started scraping their pockets for whatever they might give, like the Biblical woman placing her treasured coins in the collection plate.

The volunteer Citizenship teacher, Mr. Benitez, brought in the envelope of the collected money and handed it to Hector with loving eyes.  “This isn’t much, but it’s a sign of support for you.  We know your story. You are such a good man.  We’re here for you.”

Just a moment after he left, another woman came in with a bit of money crinkled in her fist.  She handed it to him, and then embraced him.  “God bless you.”  Hector shook in her arms and cried, this time overcome with gratitude.

I asked if he wanted me to help count the money.  There were $35 in the envelope. Hector then opened his fist and found 2 dollar bills from the woman.  $37 was a small step toward the $800, but it meant far more than its quantitative value.  Hector clutched the money to his chest and lifted his watery eyes to the heavens, calling out to his wife.  “Mira, mi amor!  Diosito me esta ayudando!”  (Look, my love!  Our dear God is helping me).  Now it was my turn to cry.

Christian community.  Sacrament.  Real presence.

This is the vision of Church as the People of God.  Each of us called to the table and sent out in our own special way to be Christ’s hands and feet in this world.  During this time of transition in our Church, of course it is a moment to join in prayer for the election of a new Pope who will shepherd us with love, courage and integrity.  But it is also a good moment to remember that the Church's mission will never be fulfilled by one person.  It is up to each person to listen for and respond to God's call of Love.  Many the gifts, many the works.

The theme of the Congress was “Enter the Mystery,” and Sr. Maureen Sullivan, the Sunday morning keynote speaker, shared theologian Karl Rahner’s definition of mystery:  It is not that which I cannot know but that which I cannot exhaust.  What a wonderful thing to reflect on our Lenten journeys.  Our God is a God whose love and forgiveness cannot be exhausted.  Our oneness with God and neighbor cannot be exhausted.  Our capacity for transformation as we turn again to the Lord cannot be exhausted. That is the hope of Lent.  In God, there is always more, further, deeper.

Community helps us to know this inexhaustible Mystery.  The Real Presence of Christ imbued the gathering of Christians at the Anaheim Congress and the small act of love to a poor Mexican man in my office at Sacred Heart Church.  Can you imagine a world full of people committed to really loving God and neighbor?

"Many the gifts; many the works.  One in the Lord of all."  How will you be sacrament to others today?

Happy Celibate Valentine's Day to Me?

I’ll be honest:  Even before this whole religious life thing happened, I was a bit of a Valentine’s Day Scrooge.  It’s not that I don’t see the beauty in or enjoy the cherishing of love and friendship that occurs; I really do. I just can’t stomach the way that commercials tell us from New Years until February 14^th that love must be conveyed through a commercialized flurry of red tissue paper, bling bling, and expensive dinner tabs.  I know I’m not the only one who has a love/hate relationship with Valentine’s Day.  If you’re dating, engaged, or married, it is a moment to celebrate the gift of love shared with your partner.  If you’re single, recently broken-up, just lost a loved one, separated, long-distance, divorced, widowed, or, well – celibate, it might be a day that digs up unpleasant feelings.

Me officially "joining the ranks" - signing the
Sisters of Charity book of membership after
my Affilation ceremony in June

Almost a year into the process of becoming a Sister of Charity of Cincinnati, I’ve permanently joined the ranks of those who will not be curling up with a loved one and a glass of wine tonight.  For anyone unfamiliar with Catholicism, Sisters make vows of poverty, obedience and chastity.  Chastity within the religious life means celibacy – at its most basic definition, being unmarried and sexually abstinent.

This vow of celibacy is a tricky thing.  Sister Janet told me a story about Sister Annina Morgan, a wise and well-loved Sister of Charity who will turn 97 this spring.  I’ve had the privilege of talking with her a few times, and I am struck by how wonderfully real she is.  One night years ago, all of the novices were hanging out when Sr. Annina came down to join them.  One of the novices asked her, “Annina, when did you figure out this celibacy thing?”  She replied, “Well, probably I’ll figure it out about 24 hours after I’m dead!”

 

It’s reassuring and discouraging at the same time to know that this may never totally make sense.  As an Affiliate just barely dipping my toe into the waters of the religious life, especially at a time in life when most of my friends are married or headed that way, it’s difficult.  Out of the three vows, celibacy will likely be my biggest struggle.

Here’s the thing.  Confession of a Sister-in-training: I LOVE men!  Love them.  I think they’re beautiful!   I also LOVE many things about being in love:  the intimate sharing, growing in acceptance and vulnerable knowing, mutual support, laughter.  I love cuddling, holding hands, and slow-dancing.  I love the “look” in the eyes of someone who sees you as their one-and-only.

Andrea and I talked about this as we cooked dinner on Monday night, and she said it well: “Sometimes it would be nice to be loved in particular.  Of course, we love and are loved in lots of different ways.  But to have someone to say, ‘I love YOU more than anybody else.’   That’s a really nice feeling.”  I miss that.

It’s not a constant struggle, but it does creep up on me some days, like during Downton Abbey (spoilers to come if you’re not caught up to the current episodes).  Haha!  I know; it’s a little pathetic.   I’m guilty of being all too emotionally attached to those characters, and their “lives” sometimes bring my own into light.  Like the priceless way that Matthew looks at Lady Mary as he proposes to her; or like Lady Grantham gushing to Mary about the “delightful fun” that she and Matthew will have on their impending wedding night.  I want that look!  I want that “delightful fun!”  Especially on Valentine’s Day, I can’t help but feel the sting of those unfulfilled desires.

The tough part is this: Just because I choose to become a Sister doesn’t mean that the natural, human desires of my heart and my body will just turn off.  I’ll be just as prone to falling in love as I always have been.  Kathleen Norris, a spiritual poet and writer, reminds us in her book The Cloister Walk that this is normal and healthy.  She says that one prioress (head nun in an abbey) shared in an address to her community, “The worst sin against celibacy…is to pretend to have no affections at all…Most of us should have fallen in love twenty times or so by now.”

It’s true, and it’s confusing.  If I’m out in the world, loving and serving as I’m called to do, I’m bound to rub shoulders with some pretty amazing guys like the one I fell in love with two years ago.  I’m sure I haven’t been swept off my feet for the last time.

I think most religious and priests would say that it is a lifelong journey to figure out how to live their commitment with integrity.  At the same time, I think that most would say, too, that being celibate frees them to love and serve in the way that God calls them to.  And that it actually brings them a unique and joyful experience of loving.  With every struggle, there comes a gift.

 

Eddie and I at his going-away luncheon

Fr. Eddie is a Jesuit priest who just finished his term as pastor at Iglesia Sagrado Corazón, where I work.  He is the kind of priest that a parish falls in love with – gentle, laid back, accessible, goofy at times, sensitive, and so very loving.  Eddie has been an exceptional mentor and role model for me as I prepare to become a religious.  He has shared his journey as a priest openly, including that he fell in love and learned to channel his affections into a wonderful friendship.

Eddie treasures his role as a priest and the way that it opens him up to love a lot of people.  I remember once when we were chatting, he said something that really touched me.  “Being celibate has really been one of the greatest gifts of my life.  The people in the parish here, man, they give me so much love!  Just when I think about being lonely, I get a hug, or a phone call, or a kind word.  My life is just filled to the brim with love!”

It’s true, of course.  I have experienced exactly what Eddie’s telling me even in my short time of formation.  God’s love breaks into our lives in so many ways.  I suppose one of the gifts of being celibate is being especially sensitive to those many ways.  The absence of that one very tangible romantic love creates a sacred space in which I give and receive all kinds of love.

Our community at Christmastime

There is the deep, family-like bond shared among Sisters, who have all committed themselves to living without that one human source of “particular love.”  They love each other.  They strengthen each other as they walk side by side, striving to serve whole-heartedly and be faithful to their vows.  This is the love that I come to know in community.  It’s the bond I feel each morning with my housemates, starting the day united in silent prayer.  It’s the warmth I feel sitting around in the living room, laughing and sharing about our days.  It’s the understanding I’m met with when I share moments of joy and struggle in religious life with the other young women in formation.

There is the love shared with those I minister to.  Just when I’m feeling lonely or lacking in love, little 4 year-old Mili greets me at the clinic door with an excited shout and the sweetest hug you can ever imagine.  Or one of the clinic moms wraps me in an embrace the way only Mexican women know how.  Just when I wonder if it’s all worth it, someone at Sacred Heart looks at me through teary eyes and says, “Muchas gracias por todo.”

There are the many wonderful friends and family members, near and far, who enrich my life with their care and support.

And, of course, there is God, who is the source of all love and the driving force of my life.  As Sr. Sandra Schneiders says in Finding the Treasure, “all religious life is centered around the single-minded God-quest, the…concentration of the whole of one’s life on the ‘one thing necessary,’ which is union with God.”  This quest is a gift.  As I lay in bed some nights, feeling the aching of loneliness that comes with the territory of religious life, I reach out for God with all that I am.  The hole inside, then, allows me to experience dependence on God in quite a profound way.  It's like that gritty but powerful turning of our hearts to God in Lent.  The emptiness stretches me and draws me ever deeper into God’s mystery.    

I suppose I’m writing all of those flowery words in part to convince myself.  I know darn well that this wonderful “mystery” won’t get me a nice candlelit dinner and a long kiss good night.  But I do know, with all of my being, that it has ignited my life with God-given purpose that is truly my unique call.  And although it might not be in the way I expected it, my life is anything but void of love.

This is the Good News for all of us – single, married, gay, straight, Mexican, Caucasian, 26 years old or 97:  our Creator is filling our lives with a great love that is always bigger than we can fathom.  There is no life without sacrifice, of course.  Feelings of pain, loneliness and emptiness are experienced in all walks of life. But God’s sustaining love abides, really.

Even this Scroogey, celibate girl can get excited about that.   It will be a happy "Celibate" Valentine’s Day. I’ll try to spend the day lifting up prayers of gratitude for all the channels by which God fills my life to the brim.  For me, it won’t be a man with a bouquet of roses.  But it will come through many other people and moments.  Hopefully, years from now, an older, wiser and expertly celibate (haha) Sister Tracy will reread this reflection by her 26 year old self and smile knowingly.  Until then, I’ll fumble on, inspired by the many religious and priests I know who are living their vow of celibacy courageously and with great love. 

Shoes

 “Never judge a man before you've walked two moons in his moccasins.”

This is a quote from one of my favorite books growing up, Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech.  It popped into my head two Wednesdays ago, prompted by something you might not expect.

That night, I accidentally left a door to the Sisters’ Subaru unlocked while it was parked on a street near downtown El Paso.  I was inside the Columban Mission Center for a weekly faith formation and sharing group called Engaging Spirituality.  When I came out after the meeting, the vehicle’s front door was propped open a teeny bit.  Thankfully, there was no damage to the car.  However, I noticed that my well-loved University of Dayton drawstring gym bag was gone, along with a Sisters of Charity lunchbox I had left in the front seat.

 

At first I was amused.  What would prompt someone to steal a lunchbox filled with empty Tupperware?  Then, I began to think through what was in the UD bag:  running shirt from the 2011 El Paso Half Marathon, visor, watch, deodorant, brush and comb, …shoot!  Nice running shorts and socks that my Aunt and Uncle gave me for Christmas in 2010, and …SHOOT!   The brand new running shoes that Mom and Dad gave me for Christmas.  I got mad for a minute.  I don’t spend a lot of money on clothes, and these were some nice things that I use a lot.   If only I had locked that door or brought the bags inside with me!

After the initial surge of anger, I thought about how the clothes were all stinky from my run earlier that afternoon.  I chuckled, much like a five year old might.  I imagined the “thieves” opening the stolen bag to a wonderful surprise odor.  I thought again about the lunchbox.  “Who would steal something that says Sisters of Charity?!”  I thought.   “I bet they feel so guilty!”  We later realized that the car insurance card and registration had also been taken from the glove box.  A bit annoyed, I wondered what a person would do with such a random assortment of snatched items.

 

I reached the acceptance stage pretty quickly.  What can you do really?  It was a little lesson in non-resistance.  Sister Carol is always good at reminding me that we save ourselves a lot of inner turmoil when we can just look at what is, even an unpleasant situation, and say, “Oh well.”  Lo que pasó pasó.

I reflected as I drove home.  I was relieved that I hadn’t lost my cell phone, wallet, or laptop.  I was relieved that nothing happened to the car.  But even if it had, obviously, the situation would have been far from a crisis.  Things are just that - they serve a purpose but certainly aren’t the source of life.  In fact, I realized that I have 2 or 3 extras of most of what was stolen in my drawers and closets at home.  I even began to remember things that I had forgotten I owned.  I have so much stuff!  I began to feel a bit guilty and strangely grateful.

I had been most disappointed initially about the loss of the nice running shoes, but I quickly remembered that I have two old pairs in my closet.  They’re not brand new but still do the trick.  I pictured them on my closet floor, amid pairs of heels, flip flops, different colored flats, sandals, boots, clogs, slippers…you get the idea.

Visualizing this little mountain of shoes that I own, I remembered a little boy I met during my second year in Ecuador.  I met him early on while singing with the youth choir at Bautismo de Jesus parish but then didn’t see him for months and months.  When he finally came back to sing toward the end of the year, I asked where he had been.  He glanced down at his feet that were covered by some dusty, second-hand black shoes.  “We have to have closed-toed shoes to sing in the choir, and I only had this one pair of zapatillas (flip-flops).  It took us awhile to get the money.”

I also thought of Mary (pronounced “MAH-ree”), a mother of 4 from our clinic in Mexico who is just a few years older than me.  Last week, Sr. Carol gave her a donated pair of brand new tennis shoes that were just her size, 8.  Mary smiled radiantly as she slipped the shoes on and felt their perfect fit.  She rocked back and forth and bounced as if wearing moon shoes, her face glowing. “I’ve never worn a new pair of gym shoes before,” she said.

I wondered now about the person who took my things.  The neighborhood around the Columban Mission Center is low-income and filled with people who struggle to make ends meet.  Maybe someone in need walked down the street, checking for unlocked car doors in hopes of finding something to sell for food.  Maybe it was a couple of teenage kids who don’t get much attention or have much of a future and so resort to things like that for entertainment.  I'm not saying it was right.  But I’d bet that whoever did it has a lot less shoes in their closet and a life much more difficult than mine has ever been.  And I can't be sure I wouldn't do a similar thing if I had walked their road of life.  Initial resentment turned into compassion.

“Never judge a man before you've walked two moons in his moccasins.” (or running shoes, or zapatillas…)

My friend Fr. Bill reminded me that "moons" in indigenous cultures represent a certain period of time, probably about a month.  What would it mean to walk two moons?  I think if we gave ourselves to that persistent empathy and understanding, we'd find that we would still have more to learn after walking 20 or 200 moons in someone else's shoes.  We can't ever know for sure the journeys of others.  We can only know the way things look from where we stand.  It's a pretty limited view.  We can only fairly judge ourselves.

I’m not sure where my stuff ended up.  Perhaps all of it is in a trash can somewhere, or maybe the shoes are warming the feet of someone who really needed them.  I hope so.  Either way, I’m thankful for the awareness gained through the “loss.”  Each day as I put on my shoes, I hope I can hold in my heart all of the different people around the world lacing up , slipping on, Velcro-ing, and the many wearing no shoes at all.  What different lives we all have.  What would it be like to be in their shoes?

My prayer is this: to be ever grateful for the shoes I stand in 

and to be always compassionate to the many, many people

who stand in shoes that I have never tried on.

Grace on a Plane

When I purchased my flight home to Cincinnati for Christmas, I had avoided airports like Chicago where winter weather might cause delays.  Despite my strategic planning, Mother Nature affected my travels anyway.  My flight out of El Paso on Wednesday, December 19^th, was delayed due to high winds throughout the Southwest.  Hopeful that I’d still make the connection in Dallas, I called my parents from the departure lounge to confirm my airport pick-up for 9:05pm EST.  My Dad did his usual joke: “Welllll, maybe if we’re not busy.  If we can’t make it, you know how to get a cab, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

When we landed in Dallas, I turned on my phone to see how tight the layover would be because of the late take-off.  I had only 25 minutes, so I rushed off of the plane and asked the airline rep, “Where is the 5:55pm Cincinnati flight taking off?”  She scanned her list. “Oh, you’re going out at 8:30 now,” she said. “You’ll be at gate B5.”  Understanding that the delay would give me a few hours to kill, I exhaled and walked leisurely toward the B terminal.

As I walked, I happened to glance up at one of the digital boards listing departures.  My eyebrows crinkled in confusion as I saw the 5:55 Cincinnati flight still listed as on time out of B27.  Below it was another Cincinnati flight – at 8:30pm, going out of B5.  I realized that when the agent had told me, “You’re going at 8:30,” she had really meant just me. Although the airline had already bumped me from the 5:55 flight, I took off running for Gate B27 just in case there was any way I would still be allowed to board.  I arrived at 5:45 pm to closed doors.  A few other late-comers and I were issued boarding passes for the 8:30 flight.

I tried to embrace the delay, but it kept getting longer. The 8:30 flight became a 9:25 flight.  Then, it was 9:45.  Then 10:30.  Then 11:30. The faces of the other passengers waiting told me that they were as frustrated as I was.  Finally, the departure time on the board switched from 11:30 pm to 7:30 am.  An announcement confirmed that we’d be spending the night in Dallas.  I sighed.  Due to all of the flight cancellations and delays in the region that day, the hotels near the airport were all full, so we had to go to one 25 minutes away.

                It was a cold night, and the hotel shuttle swayed back and forth in the strong winds.  Tired and wedged between two strangers, I converted into full-fledged Grumpy Tracy.  I got mad at whoever had bumped me from the first flight and thought helplessly, “I should have been in Cincinnati 4 hours ago!”

Thankfully, a few hours of sleep and a shower did my mood some good.  In the morning, my fellow travelers and I filed out into the hotel lobby, most of us wearing the same clothes from the night before.  I smiled a little; the faces of my fellow travelers were becoming familiar.  We mumbled good mornings and piled into the 6 am shuttle back to the airport.  As we gathered at the gate, people were striking up conversations and laughing together.  We realized that many of us were born and raised in Cincinnati, but our lives had taken us far from home to the Southwest or West Coast.  Now we were all just trying to make it home for the holidays.  We began to feel like a little team, united by our life experience and our current predicament.

The predicament wasn’t over yet.  After boarding, sitting, and then deplaning due to an aircraft malfunction, we finally boarded the plane that would actually take us home.  Cheers erupted as we lifted off.

The whole thing could have been miserable.   But it wasn’t.  Despite all of the delays, I was happy to be surrounded by such a great group of human beings.  We shared about our lives, our experiences, and our faith.  I couldn’t believe that we’d been strangers just thirteen hours before.

There was Heather, a thirty-two year old who got a masters degree in Architecture and now works in medical design in California. She was warm, conscientious, intelligent, and easy to talk to right away.  I was fascinated as she shared about her job.  We found out that she is passionate about improved health care for all.  We connected on how going home is like stepping into a time capsule; both of our childhood bedrooms are pretty much intact.  We talked about the joys and struggles of choosing a life path that is “different” and takes you far from home but blesses you with new experiences.

Our flight attendant was Evan.  His hilarious, friendly and loving way was a bright spot on our trip.  As we boarded (finally) he said, “I like you guys!  You guys are jolly!”  He kept us laughing through the safety briefing.  It showed that he really loves his job.  Then, when he heard that I work at the U.S.-Mexico border, he told us that his roommate is a Mexican girl who is separated from family members that have been deported.  We lamented the struggles that migrants face; we spoke of a desire that every human being would be treated with respect and equality.  He was authentic, funny, and caring.

Across the aisle was Eric who just graduated with his Masters in Theology and Intercultural Studies.  He worked for an organization that fights human trafficking while in grad school and is now a youth pastor in Los Angeles.  His energy was contagious.  He is one of those people that can seemingly get along with anyone because he looks for the good in everyone.  We talked about social justice and faith in action.  It was easy to see that he is bright, passionate, kind, and unafraid to live exactly what he believes.

As we landed in Cincinnati, we were all aware that something special had happened in our group.  We gathered our luggage, awaited our rides, and bid each other farewell.  My luggage didn’t show up on the carriage, so I waited for that as Eric waited for his mom to arrive.  We talked over the unexpected blessings of the last sixteen hours and smiled in gratitude.  When his mom came in she said, “Is this one of your new friends you told me about?”  We all hugged and wished each other a blessed Christmas, and they were on their way.

I was tired but happy. Is this not what Christmas is all about? I thought about Mary and Joseph and their long journey to Bethlehem.  They traveled long and far, and who knows what they thought when they saw that their delivery room would be a stable.  It was dark, dirty, and smelly – and yet, there was the Son of God.  Christmas reminds us that God comes to us in surprising ways and even ways that we didn’t want.  On a sixteen hour delay that really could have been quite miserable, we felt Christ’s birth in our hearts through each other. 

The celebration of Christmas has passed, but it cannot remain as an isolated holiday or something that happened once two thousand years ago.  It must be a reminder that He continues to be born to us daily in the events of our lives.   This journey of life is one of light and darkness that we walk together.  Sometimes it takes us places we didn’t plan to go.  Sometimes, it takes longer than we’d like for our dreams to be fulfilled.  Maybe they’re never fulfilled in the way that we expected.  But can we open our hearts enough to see the ways that Jesus lives in each moment, even on the bad days?

Thankfully, we are not alone on this journey.  Just like the shepherds or the Magi who journeyed to see baby Jesus on that holy night, we help each other seek His face.  Grumpy Tracy’s stint may have lasted a lot longer had I not been surrounded by other people who chose to see the bright side of the situation.  We were united by sharing our stories, and laughter, and even the annoyances and inconveniences – and voilà!  We were no longer frustrated individuals pushing to get home. We were a community.  The burden was lighter and the joy more radiant.  Christ is born when we walk together.   Who leads you to kneel down at the cradle of the Lord in wonder?

Eric had commented on the plane that any struggles we were living during that trip were certainly “first world problems.”  This reminder was a gift that stopped me in my tracks: how lucky I am to be able to afford an airplane ticket, to live in a place where I can do fulfilling work, and have a loving family and friends to come home to.  After Eric left the airport, my luggage was found, and I walked out to the curb to wait for my family.  My heart sighed peacefully as I saw that familiar red Toyota Corolla rounding the bend.  Mom, Dad, and Nathan had all come to greet me.

As we start 2013, I pray that we can be aware of the many moments that Christ is being born into our lives.  If this was our New Year’s Resolution, who knows what could ensue.   True happiness will not come from a better diet or working out more.  It will come when we learn to look at what is and savor God’s presence in it.  As surprising as a Savior born to a poor couple in a stable; as unexpected as community born through a 16 hour delay – He is born to us! 

Interview with the Mom-of-a-Sister-in-Training

This past Wednesday, besides being 12-12-12, was the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, a very important and beautiful day in the Mexican Catholic culture.  I attended Mass at Sacred Heart that night, and the Church was just overflowing with people.  During the homily, Fr. Eddie reflected on how the image of Mary that showed up on Juan Diego’s cloak during the apparition shows Mary with child.  I began to reflect on that and try to enter into all that Mary must have felt in her journey of being Jesus’ mother.  When she carried Him in the womb, she could never have known all that she would watch her son live.  Then I thought about my own mother.  God knitted me in her womb, and she has walked with me through every moment of my life.  And she, like Mary with Jesus, has seen my life take a path that she most likely didn’t expect.  Throughout my process of becoming a Sister, my mom has gracefully supported, loved, encouraged, and listened to me, even when she doesn’t understand fully.  I am so blessed to call her “Mom.”  Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen: my Mom, Patty Kemme! 

Interview with the Mom-of-a-Sister-in-Training 

Tracy: How would you describe your relationship with me? 

Patty: I think that we have a pretty good adult mom/daughter/friend relationship.  I feel like you can talk to me about anything and vice versa. I sometimes don’t have the answers but I am always there to listen.  I feel like we “get” each other. 

T: What was I like growing up? What did you think I would be when I got older/what did you think I would do with my life?

Mom and I in 2011

P: You were imaginative, happy, smart, creative, and a perfectionist.  Until you went to college, I guess I thought you might be a writer.  You were always writing stories.  But in college you majored in Psychology and Spanish, and I wasn’t quite sure what path you would follow.  Then you volunteered to do Rostro and go to Ecuador; after that I figured you would find something to do with helping the less fortunate, possibly in conjunction with the Latino culture that you love. 

T: Before I told you, did you ever expect that I might choose to become a Sister? Why or why not? 

P:  No, it didn’t even cross my radar.  I guess I didn’t because it is just not heard of too much in this day and age.  You never talked about it, and you were dating. I guess I figured at some point you would get married.

T: When was the first time I told you that I was thinking about becoming a Sister? What did you think/feel initially? 
P: You told me when you were in Ecuador after your experience at the beach while on retreat.  I think you were at an internet café and we were Instant Messaging.  I guess I was shocked.  It was a foreign thought to me.  I don’t think most parents think that their children will grow up to join the religious life.   I probably thought that it would pass.  Also, I thought that most sisters were older and there would be no one your age and that might be hard.

T: How has your perception changed? How do you feel about it now? How do you think this life suits me? 
P: I guess I’m used to it now and have accepted it.  My main concern is that you are happy.  And I can tell that you are.  And I know that this hasn’t been an easy decision and that you have given it a lot of thought.  I’m still not sure if it is the choice I would have picked for you, but it isn’t my call.  I guess I’ve thought that you could do the same kind of work and not have to become a sister.  But the quote in your one blog has helped me to understand a little better.  “For those who are called, no explanation is necessary. For those who are not called, no explanation is possible.”

I think that you are very well suited to be a Sister.  You are very caring and concerned with others.  You will touch a lot of lives and your influence on people will have positive results because you are so positive.  And I’ll always support you no matter what.

T: What was it like for you watching the process of me making this choice? What has been difficult? Confusing? What has surprised you? 
P: It was hard because I know that it was very hard for you.  I didn’t feel like I helped you much.  I was just able to listen (which I hoped helped you).  Nothing really confusing or surprising.

Something else that has been a little difficult for me is talking to other people about your choice because the response isn’t always great.  When people knew Nathan [your brother] was getting married or got married, they would come up and say, “Congratulations!” They didn’t say, “Now why would he do that?”  With your choice, I feel like I have to explain it to people.  It doesn’t make sense, because it is your life choice, just like getting married is.  I know that it’s definitely a less-taken path, and people just don’t know many Sisters.  But it is just uncomfortable for me; like, why do I have to defend it?  Nathan chose to get married; you chose to become a Sister.

Although, even when people don’t really say anything in response, I still feel like I have to explain why you’re doing this.  Maybe deep down I’m still not totally comfortable with the idea myself, and that’s why I feel like I have to justify it, too.  I don’t know.

T: What about me becoming a Sister makes you happy? What about it makes you sad? 
P: I’m happy because I know it makes you happy.  I know that sisters do a lot of good in the world.  The sisters that I’ve met since you have joined are wonderful, inspiring people.  I was thinking about how it’s like now you have another family.  I know you’ve shared that for some Sisters’ families, it’s been hard for them to accept that.  But again, it’s just like when Nathan got married, or when anyone gets married. Now he’s got another family, and that’s wonderful.  We just get to make that new family a part of our family, and it’s the same with the Sisters.  Of course, it’d be great if you could live with me (laughs), but you wouldn’t do that in whatever path you take.  And I wouldn’t want you to live with me forever; I want you to do what you need to do.  I get to spend quality time with you when you’re here, and that’s good.  We just have to make the best of the time we have together (she sniffles, and me too).  But it’s good to know that when you’re not here, you’re still with family.

Mom and I at Nathan and Jenni''s wedding

As far as what makes me sad, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I thought you’d get married and have kids.  I have more in common with that path and would be able to help you more since I’ve experienced it.  Also, it’s possible that you might have lived closer.  But the main thing is that I want you to be happy.

It makes me sad, too, just knowing that…well, you know how you wrote in that one blog about Nathan’s wedding how it’s hard for you to always go to things alone and stuff (starts crying a bit). It’s hard to watch you deal with that.  But I know that you have a lot of friends, Trace, and a lot of people who care about you and support you.  I know you’ll never be lonely.  It’s just something to get used to, I guess.

T:  Is there anything you feel like you’ll be missing out on since I’m not getting married or having kids?  Like sometimes I see my friends planning their weddings with their moms (I start to cry), or you know…when they have babies and their moms get to be a part of that special experience…(crying) it makes me sad that I won’t get to live that with you.  Does that bother you at all? 
P: Well, I mean, it just would have been a different life.  Yes, that would have been nice, and grandkids are nice, too.  But they’re not everything.  When I was raising my kids, it never crossed my mind that I was doing it so that I could have grandkids.  I’ve just always wanted you to grow up and be happy.  I’m happy that I’ll probably get to experience being a Grandma with Nathan and Jenni’s kids.  But nothing is certain:  You could have gotten married and taken a job somewhere else and still lived far away.  You could have married and then not been able to have kids.  So the most important thing is that you follow your heart.

T: What are any fears/concerns you have in regards to my future? 
P: I guess I have some monetary concerns, since you give up everything and don’t really make any money.  But the sisters that I have met seem to be okay, just don’t know about the future because most sisters are older and I’m not sure how much money will be coming in, seems like more will be spent on taking care of the aging sisters.  Also, safety concerns depending on what path you follow after you become a sister.  Sometimes, I’m not sure that the Church and people in general appreciate and respect women religious the way they should.

T: What are your hopes for my future? 
P: I hope you are happy and that you achieve everything that you want to.  Just the same as anyone would want for their child no matter what path they choose.

T: What new things have you learned or experienced as a result of me taking this path? 
P: I guess mainly I’m thinking about all of the people I’ve met as a result of you making this choice – the people in your house, and at the Motherhouse, and in Mexico.  I’ve learned a lot more about what Sisters do, especially what the Sisters of Charity have done and do in Cincinnati.  Like this summer when we went with you and Tracey to that walk [to raise money for Sr. Sarah’s ministries in Guatemala] at Winton Woods [a park 10 minutes from our house.]  We found out there that Sr. Sarah’s sister worked at your grade school, and some of your other grade school teachers were at the walk.  Those connections are interesting.

I’ve also learned a lot about the process of becoming a Sister, something that many people don’t know.  I still don’t know everything; like I’m not sure what will happen after you spend your year in Cincinnati next year, where you’ll end up or whatever.  But I do think that it’s good that it’s a long process.  It gives people time to really be sure they’re making the right choice.

Oh, and I also learned that the Mount (the Motherhouse) has a swimming pool! (laughs)  All those years growing up right down the street, and I never had a clue.  (My mom grew up in Delhi just 5 minutes from the Sisters of Charity Motherhouse).

I’ve learned that the Sisters of Charity are a great group of people, especially your community in New Mexico.

T: What was it like to visit me here at the border and see me in my house and my ministry? 
P: It was just great to get to spend time with your housemates and get to know them better.  As far as visiting Mexico and seeing your work, I had a pretty good idea of what it would be like.  From seeing your pictures and hearing your stories from Ecuador, I sort of knew the kind of poverty you all were dealing with – what the neighborhoods look like, the houses and everything.  But it is always good to see where you are and have that picture in my mind.

T: As my Mom, what do you feel your role has been in helping me make this decision? 
P: I imagine that your upbringing had an influence: Catholic schools, going to Church, prayers, church choir, being a server.  My role recently has been and continues to be just to listen and be supportive.  Ultimately it is your life and your choice.

T: What was it like for you to attend my Affiliation Ceremony this summer in June?

Family at my June Affiliation Ceremony

P:  Hmmm…I’m not sure.  It was a really nice ceremony. (She’s quiet for a minute) I had been to an ordination of a priest before, so it wasn’t a totally foreign experience.  I think it made it finally sink in.  Dad and I had Skyped into your Pre-entrance ceremony in the Spring, but that was just the initial step.  This ceremony made it more real, like, wow, this is really going to happen.  I don’t think I was necessarily excited…I’m not sure how I was feeling.  I think I was more concerned about the behavior of other family members present who clearly were not too happy that you are doing this.  It was a really nice ceremony, though, and it was so good to see all of the people happy there.  All of the Sisters were so excited to welcome you into their community. That was nice.

T: I was just wondering, because it’s hard for me that the family doesn’t necessarily get excited about these steps, but if it was my wedding, for example, it would be a happy thing, with people congratulating me. 
P: Yea, I understand that. I think maybe it’s just because there’s still a few more steps in this path.  I think that maybe when you make your final vows we’ll feel more of that excitement.  More time will have passed; we'll understand it even more.  It will be a joyous day, a time for celebration.

T: What words of wisdom do you have for other parents of young women or men discerning the religious life? 
P: Just listen and be supportive.  You might not understand, you just have to have faith that it is the right thing for them. 

T: Is there anything else you’d like to add? 
P: Just to reiterate again how much as a mom I want you to be happy.  You know, if I had my druthers, you would get married and have kids and move in down the street from me.  Then we’d probably drive each other crazy. (Chuckles) And I just know you’re going to do a lot of good for a lot of people, Trace.  (She starts crying, harder this time.  Of course, I do too).  I do, Trace, I just know it.  You’re already doing it, just by being present and being who you are.

Seriously, how lucky am I to have this woman as my mother?  Mom, thank you, and I love you.