There is no place like Nebraska...

I don't have much time to write all the thoughts swirling around in my heart, but one thing I can say with absolute certainty: this summer was the most healing time of my life. At the beginning of the summer, I prayed a 9 hour emergency novena to the Little Infant of Prague. (If you have never done this, do it...tomorrow!) It's very simple: set 9 alarms on your phone, and once an hour say the prayers recommended. Simple as that! But, when you do this you realize how fast a day really goes by--how much time we waste when life really is a breath. My intention for my novena was manifold, but the main reason was for the healing of myself and my family members. I finished the novena at say 6pm, and then my mom and I went to Blessed Sacrament Church to pray a holy hour. I was kneeling in front of the Little Infant of Prague statue, and one of my mission partners came out of the side chapel-- a very wonderful, spirit filled man. He came up to me and said, "Rachael, your supposed to read this." And I look down at the book and what is it called..."The Healing of Families!"  I screamed and literally jumped ten feet. Good thing no one was really in the church...

But that's not all.

Sr. Antoniana, a Sister of Life, also recommended this book to me two months prior when I was telling her about my life/sicknesses/vocational discernment. She asked me point blank, "Do you have any unforgiveness?" And I laughed and shrugged, "Well, yeah..." Turns out unforgiveness is the single biggest obstacle in growing in holiness and causes physical illness! I thought unforgiveness is something everyone kind of struggles with-- like any other sin, but I never thought of it to have such a literal crippling effect on a person. So, back to the book. She emailed me the Amazon link to buy it, but of course, I forgot. (Don't be silly like me, buy the book. http://www.amazon.com/The-Healing-Families-Yozefu-B-Ssemakula/dp/0984886214 )

Last year was a difficult year for me. I cannot go into full detail because this ain't a public diary, but I can say that I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained. It's weird how you don't always notice it--for me it was a gradual lull, but by the time the end of the year hit, I realized I was in stage 4 burnout. So, like any good Father would do, God let me come home and just be. I reconnected with who I am. I realized Lincoln is very dear to my heart, because Lincoln has formed me into who I am. I always liked to travel and some may call me a gypsy or vagabond, because I am always living in other places or backpacking. I have never liked Lincoln to be honest. I always thought it lacked things to do, and it did not stimulate that part of my personality that likes the exotic and strange. I now realize as God brought me back to this "dull place" that it was filled with peace, goodness, and love, which is not dull at all!

Living in Burlington was spiritually draining for me last year. I am a Catholic missionary living in one of the most anti-religious climates in the country. I don't really know anyone outside of the campus, and New England is a different world. Relationally and culturally, it's very different. And man, oh MAN, is it cold there! I hate cold with a passion-- I know, I know, I'm from Nebraska. It's cold here too. But the gray Vermont winter is notorious, and it lasts from October til early May. It takes its toll--especially when your a leafy green nature-holic like me. But, even with all that, I am so happy to return. I love the students I have befriended and those I serve Christ with. I love the hippies and their industrious capabilities and bare feet. I love the gorgeous, infamous Lake Champlain that has stolen my heart every sunset. I love the fact there are no billboards in the scenic highways of Vermont. I love that Vermont reminds me of Austria...with all its chalets, Von Trapp ski lodges, and beautiful green mountains. I love the fact that almost everyone in the state cares about sustainability and caring for the Earth. It's truly a place that I feel is very up-my-alley, (if I could just learn to ski) and perhaps will start to truly feel like home...

But, home can only mean one thing for this heart.  I will always remember, deep down...There is NO place like Nebraska.

Audubon Spring Creek Prairie

An ode to Nebraska:

Crossing over the border, I feel the gentleness and a welcoming of a place with arms wide open. A warm conversation as I pay for my gas, as if we'd known each other all along. The vast expanse is healing for heart and mind, as open spaces make the soul feel limitless and infinite. The sky is a hazy pink and blue, and the cloud form castles across the never-ending sky with no obstructions. The windows are down and the pace is slow. I feel the rhythm of the place-- stable, secure, and easy. The Lord rules supreme here, along with family and Husker football. Nebraska feels like an affirming hug from an old friend. NO matter where I go in the world, I come back here and my heart can rest. Perhaps this is how home feels to everyone...a familiarity that gives a person a sense of their true self. But, deep down I know, Nebraska is different. Anointed with the peace of Christ. Down-to-earth and unpretentious. It's not the shiniest crayon in the box, but it is attractive in its own right. It is a land of balance. Nebraskans--hardest workers you'll meet, but they also make time for what they value most: family, friends and community. Our ancestors were not play it safe kind of people.  Travailing across land and sea with funny last names and spirits high. The East Coast with its bustling populous and jobs abundant did not lure them with its promises of security and status. No, in covered wagon lonesome--west we go!--into the Great American desert. Houses made of earth evolving later into whitewashed farmhouses that would dot the prairie. Trust God. Work to stay alive. "Nebraska nice" was born as the as reliance on one's neighbor was urgent in this vast, unknown place. All by yourself on a lonesome prairie, kins with the coyote and Native American. Both can't speak your language, so to the neighbors house we go!  20 miles later, kolaches and dumplings are shared alongside those who relate to your funny-way-of-doing things and funny-sounding last names. Czechs stick with Czechs-- Swedes stick with Swedes. (Pivo anyone?)  Community. Comunity. Community. Corn. Corn. Corn.

The original Shabby Chic.

I love this land.

It's my kind of plaaaaace!

(Toby Keith, how did you get in my blog post?)
  )

I love you,  Lincoln.  With your vibrant Catholic diocese that is steeped with incense and orthodoxy. And eclectic local businesses. And incredible refugee implants who bring a melting pot culture to this place in the middle of nowhere.

Ethiopian Messob, anyone?

But, most of all, I love all of my Nebraska "family"-- my blood relatives and friends who have formed me into who I am. They are the ones I carry in my heart no matter where God sends me, and their love is so authentic that it fills me up 1,500 miles away. Nebraska may be God's greatest blessing for me. It's a great place, folks. I know I was a "Nebraska-hata", (you know who you are)  but I have officially converted. I even went out and bought my first Nebraska shirt (gasp) and yes when I told the store clerk it was my first time buying a Nebraska shirt, she almost shouted, "Well, its ABOUT TIME!" That's what I mean. State pride runs deep here-- everyone knows "it's the good life." Now I do too.

contemplative life

The contemplative life has always been a topic that intrigues me. It is sort of a "buzz word" that I hear, and it instantly lifts my spirit up to the zephyrs of joy. We all have those words that do that. In truth, my prayer life has felt like a big, immobile rock that I cannot move forward in the last year. I have tried to read many books on prayer in the last year--"The Way of a Pilgrim", "Strannik" "Molchanie" "Philokalia" ...ya know, the classics. #sarcasm Okay, most of you have probably never heard of those titles, because the books I have been reading are actually rooted in Greek and Russian Orthodox spirituality. I have been really moved by the Orthodox faith, but that m'dears is a whole other blog post! The point is, I am stuck in my spiritual life, and have been hungering to move forward. If i ever feel myself get spiritually blocked, I diagnose myself with the "Carmelite Doctors"--that's right, Dr. Teresa d'Avila and Dr. John d' la Cruz. But so often, like any remedy, we forget about it and go looking in the wrong places, when all along we had the knowledge we were seeking. Does that ever happen to you? You restlessly search for an answer, and then some wonderful soul comes along and re-reminds you of what you already know? It is a moment of recognition and familiarity, like finding a lost piece of a puzzle that you once possessed. This is what happened to me this weekend.

I went to Canada on a "Notre Dame de Vie" (French: Our Lady of Life) retreat in the backwoods of Quebec. I initially did not want to go--I knew it was going to be a series of talks and TBH, as a missionary who is constantly doing Church-related activities and travelling, I just wanted to veg out and make soup or something on my first free weekend in many moons. But God woke me up at 6:30am on a Saturday wide awake and full of energy (if you know me, you can acknowledge this is a miracle!) and so I took it as a kick in the butt from the Holy Spirit that I was meant to attend this retreat. When I arrived at the retreat I noticed it was full of kind, elderly souls who also were in need of spiritual renewal, and to my delight everything was in French, which made me realize how much I love being outside of America. Monsignor Lavalley, a theatrical wise-as-all-get out priest was our retreat director, and as soon as his James Earl Jones-esque, commanding voice started to speak, I was buckled up and riveted to my seat.

Here are some of my notes from the retreat to chew on:

Contemplative prayer...only a child can do it.


"Unless you convert and become like little children,"

 Jesus says, "you cannot enter the kingdom of 

heaven." 

I repeat: only a CHILD can do it. What does that mean? A child is full of trust, looking to their mother and father to help guide them. Children are humble, little creatures. They don't lead themselves--they need someone to carry them along. Children also need and demand attention. Imagine a child who never asked for intention! You can't--because it doesn't exist. Children crave and NEED attention. And, the funny thing is, in the spiritual life, we, the self-sufficient American adults we are, need attention too. We need the Father. We need to rest in His big arms and nestle there. Yes, nestle there! We need to know we are loved and appreciated. But not only appreciated, for appreciated is one of those blah-words you use when you want something deeper, no we hunger for the attention of the Father. We want to know we are delighted in. Yes, God the Father, who created you and me, created us exactly as we are and loves us exactly as we are. With all our warts and wrinkles and drama and messiness--He loves us. And as the children that we are, we must delight in knowing that our Father in Heaven is always our #1 fan. How hard to understand...we are so sinful and selfish...but yet He gazes. An audience of 1 (but the 1 is 3, glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit) is constantly watching His creature, full of joy no doubt, if we are living in His grace, and waiting in expectation for the moment we gaze back. This my friends, is what we call communion, and it what we are created for. And this union is only intensified when we receive the Lord in the Holy Eucharist--for there is the total consummation of the flesh, reminding us of the marital embrace, the two becoming one.


Second, mind blower: Discover the God who lives within you. (Divine Indwelling)

One word tells us everything we need to know about contemplative prayer, and it was uttered by a poor, illiterate 15 year old girl over 2,000 years ago: Yes. 

Fiat!

Yes, this little girl was our Lady, the most holy Mother of God. She teaches us contemplation, because God came down from the Heavens, to dwell within her. The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us. God is living within us too--and like our Lady, when we say YES to God, Jesus happens.

Theotokos--she whom the Trinity indwells in

Divine Indwelling. Do you believe God dwells in you? This is a total game-changer. God is not "out-there" or distant, but He is actually inside of you. Through Baptism, we share in the very life of God dwelling in us. He is there! Do we acknowledge Him?--not nearly enough as our ancestors did I assure you. Our world is too fast, too diverting, too I-phoney. Why talk to God when I can check my FB or listen to Spotify? Wait, we are made for relationship. Relationships require communication (communio) and if I am not talking to God or listening, then there really isn't a whole lot of communion happening.  "But I have people--I mean, I get God through people. That's how we communicate. I don't really hear him..." Ah. But here is where we have to be creative--when the relationship gets gray or we run out of things to say or do, we need to get creative. We are made in the image and likeness of THE Creator, right? Lets be creative. I cannot tell you what you need to do--I am still finding ways myself, but I can tell you that in any relationship we have to spice it up once in awhile, or its gonna get as boring as flossing your teeth. Try switch up your "floss flavor,"--you been using "plain, waxed"? I say go for "Cinnamon Tingle" next time, or "Sassy Spearmint"--you get my drift? Do something that will spice up your relationship with God! Visit a monastery. Buy a book that is utterly fascinating. (Amazon, yo) Or rise early to chant the Morning office while listening to Byzantine chants. (That's on my list) Walk in the forest with your journal and bible. Join a bible study or get involved with a prayer group or volunteer group. Teach someone to pray the rosary--if you don't know how, go to www.comepraytherosary.org. Go grab coffee with a priest or sister--ask them their vocation story. Watch "Padre Pio: Miracle Man." Buy an African drum and ask for the gift of praying in tongues and go to town! Praise the Lord! Remember life with God is above all things: an adventure.

Just do something. He sees the effort. He knows your trying. 

"If the soul seeks God, her God seeks the soul with even more love, infinitely more love."
-St John of the Cross


We need to be creative in showing our love in all our relationships--why not with God?

One other thought: to enter into contemplative prayer, which is in Monsignor's words "resting in the arms of the Father," we need to expect something: emptying of self. 

Prayer is a pilgrimage into the heart of God. It is to empty one's self for the sake of souls--its truly a missionary journey. The more we enter into God, the more He enters into us (infusion) but God does not start to resemble us...no we who are nothing fade into HE who is all ALL. The more we become like Christ, the more Christ is crucified IN US. "Now, this is hard... I don't want to be crucified. Why would anyone want that?" Let me repeat,  to enter into contemplative prayer we have to TRUST the cross of Christ within us.

Behold! Behold! The Wood of The Cross...on which has hung our salvation...oh, come let us adore!

Christ is in you  and He is in me. Oh yes, He is Risen and glorious, but He also bears the marks of His glory--the five wounds in His hands and feet, in you and in me. The more we become like Christ, the more we will resemble the Bridegroom. (The Bride must resemble the Bridegroom--Jesus to St. Faustina)  Souls are costly. We cost Him everything--all the blood and water flowed out of Him to the last drop. Through this cross in us, which we must TRUST because it comes from Jesus, we will lose our lives to save them. A saint once said, the cross is the only ladder to Heaven. Jesus saved us by the cross--so too, we will be saved by the cross.

2 Corinthians 4: 8-12
We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.  We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 

I Peter 2:22 
 For unto this are you called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving you an example that you should follow his steps.

Luke 14: 27 
And whosoever doth not carry his cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. 


Galatians 6: 14 
May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.

Saints show us how to suffer like a boss.
St. Maximilian Kolbe, martyr at Auschwitz.

In short, we can save souls with Christ inside of us , by offering up our small and great sufferings to God--which we call "redemptive suffering. Suffering is the only road we have to trod to save souls. Period. Look at Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane the night before the cruelest death in human history, "Father, let this cup pass from me, but let not my will be done, but thy will be done. " 

No I am not saying Christ's own suffering wasn't sufficient or that His death wasn't enough the first time to save our souls. I am sayin', ....just sayin' that in God's great plan of redemption he wanted us, the Body of Christ, to participate and co-cooperate.

I Corinthians 12:26 
And if one member suffer any thing, all the members suffer with it: or if one member glory, all the members rejoice with it. 

Colossians 1:23-24 Now I rejoice in what I am suffering for you, and I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church


So. I did not even mean to write all that! But guess, somebody out there needed to hear about redemptive suffering (aka myself). Often when i write it helps me understand something deeper. 

One last thing about prayer. With contemplative prayer, expect it to be a road of emptying. You are emptying yourself, so you can enter into God. Expect darkness, dryness, loneliness, and feelings of abandonment. John of the Cross calls this the "dark night of the soul," or at least the beginning stages of it. But offer it up for souls--God uses it all for the good of the world. 

As Fr Marie-Eugene, founder of the Notre Dame de Vie Institute, says to remember about suffering:

Dawn does not come until the night is over.

We do not climb Calvary as heroes, like champions who have won the race. A saint is not a hero: he is someone filled with God and with God's strength.

And when faced with the Cross, we are all weak. Weak, little children. (praise God for crosses!)

Yes in order to enter into contemplative prayer, and ultimately in order to grow closer to God, we need to become like little children. Little, weak, and totally dependent. He is watching and He is within us. 

Fr Marie-Eugene

"Silent prayer is the somehow the sun and the center of all the day's activities. Each night one has the impression that this is virtually the only important thing we have done." 

We are all trees...

I am feeling really inspired right now and have a great need to write what the Lord has put on my heart.

So, first off, I write this for the glory and praise of God--and am not proficient in this topic, but really feel the only way to pin a tail on the donkey is to hammer it in a bit. So here we go. On New Years Eve, the missionaries and I threw a party for our students attending the SEEK National Conference. I remembered the year before I had gone to a party where we drew names out of a hat to find out who our "saint companion of the year" was. Mine this last year (2012) was St. Martha...I am ashamed to admit that I was not exactly psyched about this saint matching. I have never related to St. Martha--I was always a Mary--and was unabashedly proud of it. I always saw Martha as the one who wears herself out--who doesn't choose the better part and hang out with her Savior. But, in my ignorance, I failed to see that Martha is as essential as Mary, although gazing upon the face of the Lord is always the Church's more elevated state of life. We as a Church have both the contemplative life and the active apostolate--and we need them both for the Church to survive, as they are both parts of one body. However, the contemplative is the heart pulsing in the body, while the active life is the necessary hands, arms, and feet. The Lord was smart to give me St. Martha as an intercessor, because as a FOCUS missionary I have truly learned the beauty of service and how it is necessary for my salvation to pour myself out like her. Sure, I yearn for solitude and intimacy alone with Jesus (Mary-style) but I believe the Lord had given me many "Mary-years" before I joined FOCUS, as my previous spiritual life was much more solitary. It's time I get up off my butt and share Jesus with others, I need to move aside from the "best spot" -- and let them sit at His feet for awhile so they can fall in love too.
So, thank you St. Martha for teaching this reluctant Mary to help out in the kitchen.

So, on to the idea of companion saints...this year I got St. Catherine of Siena. Again, wasn't so excited--was actually jealous of Sarah White, my teammate for getting St. Margaret Mary Alacoque ("I wanted her!") But, turns out I did not comprehend with my peanut sized intellect how abundantly mind-blowing is St. Catherine of Siena--who is known for mystical espousal and "death". Oh, and she's one of 4 women saints who are Doctors of Holy Church. Which means her intellect is bigger than a peanut. So, she picked me--or so the tradition of saint companions go. In case you didn't know, your saint companion follows you through out your year and promises the following: intercession, protection, and a share in their charism. Say char-rizza-what? Yes, whatever supernatural gift or virtue or mission the Lord endowed them with on this Earth for charity's sake is given to us. What was Catherine of Siena known for? A LOT. (I won the spiritual lottery!) She had the charism of boldness and fearless courage-- at 28 years old she preached in the streets of Italy prophesying the Church's need for reform. She personally talked sense into Pope Urban VI (it was the Great Schism--*shivers*) to leave Avignon and return to Rome, the true home of the Papacy, and re-claim his vicar's chair from another man claiming to be Pope. I'm 25, and I cannot imagine telling a priest what to do, let alone the pope--so this courage inspired by love and obedience to God is incredibly inspiring.


I really could use that kind of courage this year--as a FOCUS missionary, and as a Catholic living in the US in this present age. I am living under the most pro-choice President in US history, who is eradicating all justice in our country--allowing preborns to be killed without civil rights in mass numbers, and squashing the Church's autonomy on issues of faith and morals. We have no voice--just like the preborns in the womb, and we are in solidarity with them who are being silenced by evil. So, there is a lot to pray for and work against--and the Lord needs our hands, arms, and feet more than ever. He needs our voice too--not only to praise Him because we were created to do so, but also to proclaim Truth in a world that disclaims Truth exists. Here is my voice: we need to go back to our roots. I say this a lot, but now I mean this in the spiritual sense. We cannot fight this war with human weapons--intellect, materials, physical strength--but rather we need to retreat first, to the cell within our soul, where the Lord Himself dwells in each person.

St. Catherine wrote about the following in her "Dialogue", but I am gonna recycle it and put my own understanding to it. Our Eternal Father showed her that each soul is a tree, and each soul must be rooted in HUMILITY. Our roots can either drink of humility, or drink of pride. There is a circumference around each tree--and this circumference is called "self-knowledge." In Delphi, there is a saying written on a stone tablet-- "KNOW THYSELF." All the saints proclaimed this simple truth: love of God starts with knowledge of self. We must know who we are NOT before God WHO IS. The more we contain ourselves in the room of self-knowledge, the more we gain the favor and delight and friendship of Almighty God. Why is this? It seems a bit neurotic or self-centered in the act, how does a person know who they are truly? We all have biases, right? So in order to see ourselves clearly--we need the Light of God. We need access to another room--"the cell of our souls"--which is where the Father of Lights dwells. He will show you yourself--but it must begin with the desire to see yourself as God sees you. This must be an act of love, because the cause will bring  the effect of an increase in love of God.

You see, how can we love God if we don't understand who we are in relation to Him? If we don't understand that everything He gives us is free without charge and is entirely unwarranted, how can we ever be sincerely grateful for His death on the cross? How can we want to return His love for love, if we don't understand the great mercy within His love? What does this mean, simply put, you ask? It means...He doesn't owe us anything--we're in debt. But He paid it--because He is MERCY--mercy is simply paying a debt which you are not indebted to pay. Mercy is Love Personified. So, in His Mercy He gives us ALL (rewards in the after-life, graces at every moment, infinite love) through the precious blood of His Son which opens the door to all these luxuries. Every day that I do not thank the Lord for His precious blood poured out for me drop by drop, I am offending the Father. (And Jesus even gave us the best hour of the day to thank you--3pm--the hour he died on the cross, called "The Divine Mercy Hour."  http://thedivinemercy.org/message/devotions/hour.php) Some of us do not say thank you out of forgetfulness or perhaps because we've never thought about it before, but I think that is the problem: we forget who we are before God. We are nothing and we owe Him everything. He supplies every little need we have for no reason but LOVE. It's madness. And as I write it, I still don't comprehend the immensity of the gift of mercy. When Jesus appeared to St. Faustina, He said, "LET IT BE PROCLAIMED TO MEN THAT MY GREATEST ATTRIBUTE IS MERCY." Do you know for how many years I've grappled with what Jesus meant by this? I don't really appreciate this term --"mercy"--it seems like an abstract holy word that encompasses a really broad thing--like "redemption." We hear it, but we don't take too much time to ponder the meaning. But to understand mercy and the immensity and madness of the gift, we have to understand humility. A proud person doesn't appreciate mercy--because they've never been to the bottom of the pit or waded in the dregs of misery. A miserable creature--a person bent low--understands mercy. They swim in the oceans of mercy--they see that they are misery without God, and thus they depend on God for every little thing. Jesus calls these special people "His little ones." The little ones understand they deserve nothing before God. They see clearly and know that their sinful nature (we all got one!) demands justice, not mercy-- but mercy awaits them with open arms--arms nailed to the wood. The floodgates of mercy were opened with the open arms extended nail to nail on the cross. "I saw Jesus nailed to the cross in such a way that when God wanted to look at the earth, He had to look through the wounds of Jesus. And I understood that it was for the sake of Jesus that God blesses the Earth." And here is the humbling truth: only through the wounds of Jesus does the Father call me daughter. Through his merits, not my own, I can call upon the Father for everything, and I should more. United to the wounds of Jesus, I can be refused nothing--as long as it is within God's good will.  This holy madness makes me grateful and even more humbled--even our existence is an act of mercy.


So back to the tree analogy (see blog post title)--our tree's roots must soak up humility, which is located in the earth of self-knowledge. The earth is dry...and each vice has to be rooted out in order to gain the living water--the knowledge of God. St Catherine writes about two types of knowledge--and we need them both--knowledge of self and knowledge of God. We need knowledge of self so we can spot and uproot our sins so we can live more intimately united to the Divine Spouse of our Soul. After we remain in this room of self knowledge, we need to into the "cell of our souls" while keeping one foot in the room of self-knowledge. In the inner cell of our souls, we grow in the knowledge of God who dwells there. In this inner room, we will begin to BURN with the love of Divine Charity. In a sense, if we are like trees, our wood needs to get dried out--through purification in prayer and spiritual dryness--so we can blaze in the Divine Furnace. This process is written about the best by St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila--some more Docs of the Church. But going back to my original statement of how we need to fight this war the spiritual weapons of self-knowledge and knowledge of God--we need to be enflamed ourselves if we can do any good work. We can only be a voice or extra arm...or drop kick in the body of Christ if we retreat first. We need a profound union with the Almighty before we can take down Goliath.

So New Years Resolution--instead of weight loss or knitting more quilts, maybe we should spend time asking for the grace of self-knowledge. It's a good shooting off point -- to "know thyself." Be honest with your weaknesses--embrace them united to the wounds of Christ. And as St. Paul says, this shall be our crown of glory in the life to come.

St. Catherine of Siena, you are so awesome. Keep blowing my mind.

Mir! Mir! Mir!

I have not written since my crazy trip to Europe--and it's not right because I have so much to say! First of all, I am a Catholic missionary at University of Florida--the top party school in the country. God has called me to do this mission, and it humbles me and confounds me. As a missionary, I have a call to introduce Jesus Christ to college students. My call is to direct them back to Church, where they will find true meaning in their lives--because our ultimate purpose for existence is in fact, UNION WITH GOD. (Beatific vision, yo!) Heaven is what we're made for--eternal union. But we can attain union on this Earth too--many saints and mystics have achieved it (St. Teresa of Avila for starters, google this "Transverbiation of the Heart")

So as I said, I'm here for the Lord's business, and funny thing is, God's way of doing things is waaaaaay different than the world's way of doing things. As a missionary, I have encountered many trials, but I think the biggest one is this: Myself. "That's a weird thing she said..." Yes, I mean it. You see, we often get stuck in our mindview--our perception, and this is incredibly limiting. I fall into many traps in my thinking, and God is always trying to pull me out of myself, or my way of doing things. St. Catherine of Bologna said in her Treastise on Seven Spiritual Weapons, that one of the greatest gifts we can attain from God in this life is the grace to conquer yourself--the death of the will. Jesus did it. How can we forget His cry of agony in the garden "Lord, let this cup pass from me...yet not my will be done but yours!" This should be the cry of our hearts, "Lord, it's all for you...everything, everything I do--whether pleasurable or intolerable, THIS IS FOR YOU, my love!" (Or gritted teeth "Jeeeesssuuus, thiiisss is for UUUU")  ---thats more me.

I had an incredible ride home on the bus tonight. I initially did not want to ride the bus home (my comfort-convenience driven American nature was flarin' up) but I knew that I needed to do it. It was a gut instinct--it was subtle, but I could feel it. My gentlemenly teammates insisted I let them drive me, but I really felt pulled to take the bus. I wandered to the bus stop, and realized it didn't have my bus numbers on the sign. I started to kick myself a bit, and realized I now needed to download the special app to see bus times/schedules/routes. I was puzzled, the sky was getting darker, and I felt worry lurking around me. "Let nothing disturb you, God alone suffices..." (St. Teresa of Avila) Yes, it was a test in trust. I've been struggling with keeping internal peace lately, and I was begging God to fight for me in that way--to protect me with His peace. I realized that when I worry...and start to feel anxious, that I am actually stepping away from God--because He is Peace itself. Luckily enough, a bus pulled up, and I asked the bus driver if he was headed my way, and he said no, but started to drive me to a stop where I could manage a different route. I sat down in the bus and my eyes met a young man, who was sitting in a wheelchair with only one arm and leg. He let me know he had a bladder infection, and was stuck at the hospital--and from there we discussed his illness and how it keeps him from getting around. He was very cheerful and had a peace about him--I was so impressed. I asked him where he went to church, and marvelously he went to the same church I am on mission at! I marveled at the beauty of Providence for having us meet. I got to my stop, and got off the bus and found myself in awe. The Lord was speaking clearly...

You see, I have not had a car since I moved out to Gainesville.  We live about six miles from campus...and you know after awhile, you start to feel very restricted. I've also had poor health--I went ot the doctor and they ran an EKG on my heart. She said I had a peculiar reading of very high T waves...which is an electrolyte imbalance. Apparently, my diet of nuts, homemade yogurt, and coconuts is making me potassium heavy! She ran seven blood tests, and I have yet to understand wha the issue is with my health.  I would often complain about my lot, and then would imagine how much better I'd appreciate everything if I had a car or if I could get my health right "Then I could really live..." Ha, but the Lord is in His gentle, yet direct manner is reminding me that I need to rejoice in all things. My friend on the bus was an inspiration--the Lord carefully chooses our crosses, He knows the weight we can bear. And yet, we question Him on the load...we rebel, we complain...we imagine our situation without the weight. This is where I lose my peace.

I watched an incredible movie on Sunday "The Way" starring Martin Sheen and Emilio Estevaz. I have been told my innumerable folks that I need to see this flick based on backpacking the 1,000 mile trek from the French Pyrenees to the NW coast of Espana. This trek is actually a 1900 year old pilgrimage route called the Camino de Santiago (Way of St. James) and I have been pining to walk it since I heard about it! The movie is about a young vagabond who LIVES to travel, and his uptight  father who is a rich optomologist in southern Cali. The father-son clash naturally, but indeed they see life from different worldviews. I don't want to ruin the story, but what two central themes popped out at me from film. First: life in its very essence is a pilgrimage...a journey...a grand adventure.  This question poked me:  "Why am I not living each day like an adventure?" I only get one shot (right, Eminem?)...and I have an incredibly adventurous spirit. Life IS what you make it--you can make it as adventurous as you want, and you don't have to be doing a 1,000 mile trek (although it's highly recommended!)It's all in how we view things--and it is indeed our attitudes that determine the richness of our lives.  Dos! We are made for community--and we shouldn't go it alone. In the film, the young man walked the Camino alone...Later in the film, a character commented that the  Camino is not intended to be walked alone--it is meant to be walked in community. I have always wanted to wander the Camino alone--so this pulled at me--but it is intrinsically in our identities that we walk the pilgrimage of life in a community--not as Lone Rangers, but with brothers and sisters headed in the same direction. An enlightening moment for this-solitude-seeker!

Back to the bus stop. I find bus 35 pulling up and I throw myself on. It's packed and I am yakkin on the phone to my friend Liz. The sky was cotton candy pink and I exclaimed when I saw it. The two folks next to me also took the time to turn and look, and I heard their admiration at the sky. The two folks next to me turned out to be Italian! (I shouldn't have been surprised that ITALIANS took the time to look-- those little lovers of all things beautiful!) I told them about my travels to Italy, as I am in a Italian movement in the Catholic Church, called Movimento Carmelitani Ecclesia. (Ecclesial Carmelite Movement) I was so joyful to be speaking with Italians (you truly don't meet many outside of Italy--"We're Italianos, so why go anywhere elsaaa?") But seriously, Italy could be explored for a thousand years and never get old. So, I met these beautiful Italians( who ALSO go to my church) and I asked them if they own a car. "We do!" they chirped. "But we like to walk or ride our bikes to campus (a whopping six miles one way!) and I was amazed. "We drive very little...and we only rode the bus today because it rained."  Daaaang--God just schooled me again. These two people own a car, yet they still take the round about, not convenient way to get to campus everyday. I was so joyful "Man, I need to evangelize on buses more..." It's funny when I get out of my comfort zone, I come alive socially.  I tend to make a fool out of myself, so I naturally meet strangers. It's the best.

So what was the Lord teaching me today? A lot.
 First...life is an adventure--let the Spirit guide you.
Be grateful for all you have, because trust me your cross is much lighter than the bus mate next to you.
Let not comforts and convenience BIND you.
Take the road less travelled.
And, guard your heart above all things-- for it is truly the wellspring. As soon as you feel anxiety or worry, call out to Jesus, who is Peace Himself. Beg for the gift to be peaceful at all times--no matter what. No storm will be able to overturn your boat, and no darkness can overpower your light when your heart is resting in Jesus, who is perfect peace. "Mir! Mir! Mir!" (Translation from Croatian: Peace! Peace! Peace!) These words are from Our Lady of Peace, who has been appearing for the past 31 years in Medjugorje, Bosnia and Herzegovina. We must fight for our peace--it starts in the heart. And we must fight to see as Jesus sees "with fresh eyes" always looking for the wonder and adventure around us. Life is meant to be lived to the full--John 10:10.

dude. eastern europe.

So, this whole bloggin' thing ain't so easy. For starters, I rarely have a free moment...which was not anticipated. Secondly, any time I have a free moment, I am trying to plan the next point in my journey. "Where am I going after Italy...I should probably figure that out" "Which city am I flying out of to get back to Dublin?" "Where am I staying tonight?" You get the picture. I am now presently on a train from Poland to Olomouc, Czech Republic to meet my lovely friend, Jaroslav. Jaroslav (Jari) is a heaven-send. He helped me get a free ride in a van out of Medjugorje (Bosnia) 1.5 years ago. He's got good connections down there--the lady who drove the van was the Czech translator of the messages given to the visionaries from the Mother of God. Does that make sense? My grammar has gotten worse--no offense, I call it Eastern Euro syndrome. Me English no speak.

Okay, my train just stopped. It's really not moving at all. And there is le grande silence in the cabins. Should I be freaked out? I go through this hesitation at least five times a day when I am in Eastern Europe. It's the no English thing--I NEVER, and I repeat, NEVER know what the hookah is goin' on. My trip has been nuts. I really wish I could divulge into more detail, but basically I've been staying with friends this entire trip, and I am pretty sure they wouldn't appreciate me intimating on my blog the details of our time together. HA, it would go something like this.."Then we ate ten sausages, and talked about old times...staring at a TV screen with X-Factor Poland in the background. Worst singers ever." But really, this trip was about people--I wanted to see and spend quality time with my Euro friends before I do my two year mission with FOCUS. I have to say that friends you make overseas are friends for life. There is a bond there that I cannot describe--it feels familial. For starters, to be on a different continent alone and to connect on a deep level with another soul not from your native soil is a unique experience. It makes you realize how we are all ONE.The more I travel, the more I see the common ground between cultures rather than the intricate differences.

Craig Lodge was amazing. I will speak about this...to an extent. :) Oh gee, I am getting all private now on a public blog. Well, it was so refreshing to return. Now, this is the 3rd time I've been to Craig Lodge since 2009. So, I've been 3 times in 4 years. I couldn't help but giggle on my train from Glasgow to Dalmally (Craig Lodge is in the village of Dalmally). I passed the wee hamlet of Tyndrum, and saw the petrol station--The Green Wellie. I remembered fondly how I hitched a free ride from an old lady from Tyndrum to Craig Lodge--a mere 15 miles apart. Connections and transportation is very limited in the Scottish Highlands--oh what the dickens? This train is really freakin' me. It's still not moving. And doors are slamming. God, what should I do? I always ask God this question when I travel. Here's the thing--when you travel--you can never have everything worked out ahead. But you can expect this: You will get lost...you will find yourself in the middle of nowhere...you will end up eating nothing but chicken liver pate and nuts. It's the rules of travel: it sucks sometimes. By the way, I totally ate chicken liver pate last night and sprinkled some peanuts on top--grossest meal ever, but I somehow knew Erika Hepburn would approve.

Dude, I hear shouting. I'm gonna go figure out what the dilly yo. Nah, I'm not. It's probably loud Italians or something. So, yeah...I loved Craig Lodge. It was for me like the first time I arrived in 2009. I felt the original peace that drew me to this remote oasis of peace, and I felt a sense of homecoming. I miss all the people there so much--it truly is a piece of Heaven on Earth. As I have mentioned before in my blog, it was very hard for me to live at Craig Lodge. Emotionally, physically, and spiritually, it was a heavy time for me. I felt crucified in a sense--I guess I felt lost and wholly not myself. There was a sadness inside of me that I could not shake. The future at that point in my life felt incredibly dark--I felt no sense of God or hope. But this last year has been so healing for me--living in Lincoln with my family. I've learned a lot about happiness and how God is always trying to restore us back to who we are supposed to be. The Lord has given me an adventurous heart--and in order to live with an adventurous heart we must be a people of hope. If we forsee doom in our paths, we will most surely find it. The disposition of our hearts plays a tremendous role in our lives. A grateful and thankful heart can take you far spiritually. My heart at Craig Lodge was afraid--it was doubtful, hopeless, and bruised. Life bruises...Oonaugh my dear friend from Craig Lodge told me that in life we will all acquire spots. These spots can stick with us if we let them--I sure let mine stick. But the key is to not let the spots stick--we must let things roll off us, as water rolls over rock. Are we not made to be rocks? "Build your house on solid foundation..." I can claim that it is not so easy to "just let things roll off"...it's a practice of discipline. These spots we acquire through life's heartaches can mar our true image. We start to lose who we are...we become clouded and bitter. "Why did that happen?!" All things happen for the glory of God--and God uses all things to make the world new again. The world shall indeed one day become a new Earth, and it can start now. He makes all things new--all the time. God is a God of creation--which means He RE-CREATES all the time. He doesn't want us to stand still--He calls us higher all the time. Ascend higher, my beloved! Life will try to ground you--it will de-press you into the ground if you let it. No, ascend higher. Follow the path of joy--as joy is a great indicator of the Lord's will!

So, again I am waiting on this lovely Polish train. I am about to go into the Czech Republic to stay with my friend Jari, as I mentioned, and we will go to some Moravian shrines in the countryside. After this, I head to Brno, the place of my ancestors and where I studied abroad 3 yrs ago, and will stay in a cottage with Anna and Petr. I hope to go to Racovice--which is where my great grandfather Tvrdy is from. There is something about reconnecting with your past. I've said this many times but it bears repeating: it is often necessary to go back to our roots to understand our identities. My ancestors were wine-growers, and they lived in a tiny, tiny village in Southern Moravia, which at the time was Austria. They were devout people--and they had large families. They were poor (on my dad's side) and carried the faith with them to America and cultivated it for many generations. I think the spreading of the faith down family trees is so beautiful--it is so difficult to keep faith YOURSELF but to spread it down several hundred years of bloodlines is a miracle. I worry for my generation...I can see the faith in Europe is getting darker by the minute. Many young people in Poland, a very Catholic country, are turning away from the "old faith" and turning towards materialism, secular culture, and the trends of the times. The churches here are gorgeous, and you can tell they've taken hundreds of years of sweat and blood to adorn and construct. I see them empty with a few old women hobbled over altar rails. To the young, they are nothing more than old tombs where the aged go and die. Little do they know that the real tomb is the world...all things pass and fade except God.

Yesterday (Monday) I visited the Divine Mercy Sanctuary in Krakow. I wanted to take this trip alone and really spend a good deal of time at the Shrine. Originally, I wanted to be there on Sunday, which is the Feast of Divine Mercy. This would been the BEST day to be there in the entire year as millions of pilgrims visit for this very feast. There would have been a huge celebration and it would have felt very appropriate to be at THE Divine Mercy Shrine on DIVINE MERCY SUNDAY. Sigh, but I came the day after. Wah-Wah. (But in all honesty, thank God I came the day after--I hate crowds!) . On top of coming the day after Divine Mercy Sunday, can I just add that I arrived at the Shrine at FOUR pm. Now if that ain't a Divine Mercy no-no than I don't know what is! Divine Mercy is all about the "Divine Mercy Hour" which is 3pm, the hour Christ died on the cross. During this hour, the Sanctuary will pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet, and I truly wanted to glimpse the nuns praying the chaplet. They extend theirs arm outward in the shape of the cross and I knew this sight would stir my soul. I was pretty grumpy by the time I got to the shrine. I got really lost in Krakow and was wandering around trying to find my Flamingo Hostel for about a half hour, and then couldn't find my tram stop to take me to shrine. Plus, I hadn't ate all day. It was rainy. You know, I got to say--a rainy day in Eastern Europe MAY make a top ten list of most depressing things ever. Ha, sorry but its true!

It was very empty by the time I got to the shrine--give or take a few locals. I was able to spend a lot of time burying my head on the glass box where St. Faustyna's relics are located. I prayed for everyone I know at this box--and I also prayed for the grace of child-like faith. I ended up staying for mass and sat in the front row between Polish old ladies. I kept my mouth shut the whole mass--for 2 reasons, 1) It was a Polish mass, and I don't know no Polski 2) I had cabbage pizza breath. Sick, I know. PS I totally broke my special grain free diet since I arrived in Poland. It's really impossible--I mean, seriously, they have bread stands on every corner. I was starving--I ate a kolache and cabbage pizza. The yeast had a feast. (LOL okay no one will get that statement unless they understand intestinal yeast issues, but i think its funny!)

After wandering around the shrine, I came to some conclusions: Jesus is truly everywhere. Yes, I LOVE to go to holy places--I schedule whole transcontinental trips around it...but often I find the Lord in the more unexpected places, rather than expected. Such as a ferry boat ride chatting with an Austrailian for 3 hrs...or in a city park watching children play. The Lord takes on many forms, and I am starting to see Him less in the obvious places (shrines) and more in the ordinary life.

My day was eventful fo' sho'. I stopped at the chapel one last time, and decided to sign the guest book for prayers. I took one last glimpse at the nuns praying inside the church and my mouth dropped--there were the Divine Mercy Sisters praying the chaplet with their arms extended in the shape of the cross. It was 7pm. ( They usually do this at 3pm) I was shocked! I fell to my knees in the middle of the doorway and prayed with them in the same fashion, and felt so cool, man. Next thing I know, I got a grumpy Polish security guard (yes, the shrine has security "policija") yelling at me to stand up and he tried to scurry me back in the church. I just laughed and said something like "Oopsies!" and left the shrine. He tried to push me back in the church, but I knew I had to run to get to my tram. Plus it was dark, and I was thinking it's probzz NOT a good idea to walk around a foreign city at night by me-self. God's timing is perfect-- my tram which takes many minutes to wait for, was departing RIGHT when I ran up. Hallelujah! But, then, I ended up getting lost on the way back to my hostel because my heavenly tram did NOT announce the stops, so I had no clue where to get off. I ended up wandering around and admiring the beautiful buildings in a touristy bit of town *aka safe parts*...Krakow really is magical--a bit like Vienna and Prague. But, in all truth, give me a country meadow anyday over a city. Cities are all the same to me and they always make you feel deficient in something.

So, enough of my yakkin' i got to get my backpack together before i get off this train. Oh man, taking a school bag around Europe with me for 7 weeks has been interesting. I did not come prepared. Luckily, I was donated a scarf in Glasgow...it's been a lifesaver in terms of warmth. Also my shoes--oh Heavens, I bought them at a thrift store in Lincoln, and they have holes in them. They started to break apart in the inside and I had pieces of cardboard in my shoe. I should really invest in new shoes...but probably won't. Gives me a more rustic look!

Nashledanou!

New Dawn...in Chicago

Okay, let me just start with some crazy stuff. The Megabus brought me to Chicago last night. It was intense--the speakers had some crazy 70's soul/disco hits, gospel, and Eminem blaring in my ear. I even heard "Survivor" blaring at 2am by Destiny's Child. It really was unbearable. I took the cotton out of my probiotics container, and stuffed it in my ears, wrapped my fleece around my head, and tried to position my inflatable neck pillow around my ears. Nothing worked. I even moved to the back of the bus because according to fellow back of the bus dwellers, they didn't perceive any loud, annoying disco hits. Well, I definitely snagged a seat with extra loud disco spazz music in my ear. At exactly 3am the music stopped--I probably slept for an hour and half before the swaying woke me up. Oh yes, the double decker Megabus was totally swaying as the wind from the highway made it toss and turn like a ship in the Midwestern sea. I had to laugh. Now it was just ridiculous--I started to pray for the driver, because he sounded super tired last time he made an announcement (at 1am) stating: He is tired and hope he makes it. Re-assuring! So I'm sitting up watching the bus sway, and also feeling the bus move in zig zags, and felt like it was a grave possiblity that the bus may actually tip over (it didn't have gargantuant amounts of people on it!) and that the possibility of my backpacking trip was over. I would have to try to grab a seat in front of me as the bus tips, and hang on for dear life, so that I wouldn't fly out the window. As my thoughts turned to death, I realized I was loopy from little sleep, and decided that the plane would be even scarier (Turbulance freaks me) so I will just make myself comfy in case the bus really does tip.

So, I get to Union Station, but get dropped off on the street in front. A young lady informs me my belt from my red coat is dragging on the ground--I wasn't surprised, but was super grateful I didn't lose yet another belt. (I lose the belt to my black sweater already) I look like a turtle--my Northface backpack (my only bag for 7 wks) is stuffed to the max and looks like a round hump. My back is killin' -- I am pretty sure I could use a chiropratic appt already. But I only have like four shirts, and one pair of pants, and a dress, pjs, 7 underwears, and 4 socks, so what can i spare? I have a laptop (which I am typing on at Starbucks) and I felt this was non-negotiable. So I walk around Union Station...and find a fun baggage locker that cost 3 bucks an hour (I'm here for five)--I opted out. My backs hurts--yeah, whatever it's Holy Week! (Happy Lent!) So, then this lady comes up to me--she asks me for a quarter, and I don't have one. She then tells me she is trying to get to church (HEY ME TOO) and I go "Really? Where you going?" And she said some church really far away, and mentioned teleprompters...and yeah, I was done. She proceeded to talk to me about Christianity, and how the Lord wants all denomination to be one, and how divisions in Christians is the work of Satan. She actually had some truth there--but then she went on to talk about racism...and how Obama should punish the American who shot the Afganis, and how the police are horrid in Chicago, and how crime is everywhere, oh, and how black men are truly persecuted. All good things--but truly my back was killing, and she didn't take a breath. I cut her off, and said I really needed to get to mass as it's Palm Sunday, and she directed me to Old St. Pat's which was three blocks. This church is so old--ITS THE OLDEST BUILDING IN CHICAGO! Can you believe that? It survived the Great Fire. It's incredible...I was blown away. I walked in very classily with my purse strangling me, my backpack pumping into things, and pumped into some ushers--I whispered loudly during the Readings "Is this a Catholic Church?" I was afraid she directed me to Episcopalian or Presbyterian or something. They all laughed and thought it was funny, and told me to go sit in the choir loft. I was so elated, there was so many cute families up there, and the view was awesome. The priest read the very long gospel and he had a guitar player in the background emphasizing certain dramatic moments. At first, my traditional Catholic nose turned up a bit, but then I thought "Okay, this is unique!" I found out the guitar player is a famous performance artist, (forgot the name), but he was good-looking and had a crowd around him after mass--he flew in from California just to play the guitar during the Gospel.

I loved the priest's homily--he mentioned emotional crucifixition and emphasized a message I never hear on the pulpit: how we must die to ourselves and be emotionally crucified. We also must sweat blood...he said his mother once told him "If you don't sweat blood sometimes, you truly can't make commitments. You won't commit to your priesthood, you won't commit to a marriage, and you won't commit to anything truly worthy." Love requires sacrifices (emotional crucifixition) and Jesus Himself experienced it. He died on the cross, but was it easy for him on a human level to say Yes to the Father? Yes, this was His destiny, but do not forget His words in the Garden--words of agony, no doubt, "Father, take this cup from me! But let it be not MY WILL, but yours!" Do you hear the resignation to love in that? I certainly do--Jesus knew out of love for His children He must be lacerated, humiliated, and nailed to a tree. He would be a sign of mockery in front of all his people. Out of love, we too must sweat blood in our personal gardens. What is it in your life that you can see that you must deny your will and take on God's? God's will is not always about our preferences...our desires...our feelings...often it is a bloody bath of sweat in a garden. A sweet bath to be sure--because when we shed blood for God (physically or emotionally) we reap a harvest for souls, and we cleanse ourselves of self-love. We are more free--we are more open to the better Way. How many times did Jesus emphasize "Come and follow me?" Did He say "Hey, come follow me, it'll be a great ole time! Drinks on me!" (Although He did surprise everyone with a free round at the Wedding in Cana) Did he not say "Deny yourself, take up YOUR CROSS and follow me?" Do you know your cross? I certainly know some of mine--and I'd be open to sharing one of them. Father mentioned the "great loneliness" and how often when we are striving for holiness, we feel alone. We are with friends and family, but feel misunderstood. We feel we are the only ones to stick up for moral integrity at work or school. We often feel an ache in our hearts--Jesus gave us this ache so we'd run to Him. The closer we get to HIM, the bigger the ache becomes. No earthly creature can fill it--no Apple product can dull it, the pain is fierce and sharp, but it is a wound of love that can only be healed by the Divine Physician.

So, there was a really cute family in front of me, and the mom was amazing! I asked her if there was any cute breakfast places nearby, and she told me to go to "Meli's" and then offered to give me a ride! She proceeded to tell me she was a modern dancer in Brussels, and her cute little girl asked me if I like rabbits (we were listening to a rabbit Easter cd) and the ride lasted about 2 minutes! I knew I wasn't going to Meli's--I had nut bread, and plenty of granola bars. But, I wanted to give the family an opportunity to do an act of charity for a poor ragamuffin--plus they were so cute, I loved the company. They dropped me off in GreekTown (I LOVE IT) and now I am at corporate Starbucks. I ran into the man who laughed at me when I asked if the church was Catholic, and we ended up chatting for five minutes. My favorite part of travelling HANDS DOWN is all the encounters with people. Travelling alone opens you up to strangers in ways that cannot be experienced in your hometown. I feel "more available" and don't have anywhere to be--and bascially there is a great freedom in being alone in a new place. Don't get me wrong--my back kills--and I really get confused looking for bus stations, but for the most part, I feel really alive travelling alone. God is with me though--so technically, I am a poser. He takes care of me way too well.

Well, on to go find some organic eyeliner, and talk to some more random people and then head to O'Hare. I think I could live in Chicago...I don't really big cities, but seriously everyone is very friendly! (Ha, there God is protecting me again, He only sends me the nice people probably to keep me naaive) Har Har Har. One thing I feel I should touch on: I feel very different travelling to Europe this time around than my last trip. I was just reading my last blog post--I feel like a completely different person than that girl who trampsed around Bosnia and Scotland by herself. For starters, I am not searching for meaning with this trip. I am on a pilgrimage--but the pilgrimage is in honor of the Mother of God, because I feel like she really was a strong intercessor for me this past year. I prayed a 54 day rosary novena in September for healing, and the day after it was over, I got the "call" to be a FOCUS missionary. I am happy to return back to the US after my travels...I am excited to commit to a mission. I am excited to make my own cleaning products in my own apartment, and plant a garden. I am basically excited to root myself somewhere, which is incredibly strange! But truly my back is not strong enough to backpack all my life :) I need a man to carry around my backpack...maybe, I'll marry someone with a strong back, and that will solve that problem. Jesus had a strong back. He carried a cross for miles...well, He can pick out a dude with a strong back--strong enough to carry me too, because I would be a cross to be married too. Har Har Har. Okay, I am done with shenanigans in Starbucks. Gonna go re-arrange my backpack in the Starbucks bathroom, and see if I can get rid of anything else.

I'll leave you one of my fav quotes:
" Travel can be a kind of monasticism on the move: On the road, we often live more simply (even when staying in a luxury hotel), with no more possessions than we can carry, and surrendering ourselves to chance.
This is what Camus meant when he said that “what gives value to travel is fear”—disruption, in other words, (or emancipation) from circumstance, and all the habits behind which we hide. And that is why many of us travel not in search of answers, but of better questions" (Pico Iyer)

'

Brimming with inspiration

So, i am quite pleased because this weekend has allowed me to wallow in my introversion! We had massive snows here in Lincoln, and it has melted quite a bit even since the morning. Here is a few pics of my parent's neighborhood:

(Ex-nay on the pics...apparently i had no memory card in the camera, so they are all saved onto the camera. Do i need to buy a cord now?)

I hate technology, yet, I've been utilizing the heck out of it. God has been pushing me in new directions this week! I went on a walk on our sixty degree day, after work, when I would have rather have been lounging at my house making a snack, or perhaps heading to pray in the chapel. I had a chunk of free time (an hour and a half) in late afternoon, which is so rare, and I wanted to truly ask the Holy Spirit, "What do YOU want me to do?" I heard "Go on a walk." I was shocked...go on a walk? But it's February. Well, it is nice out...but...I mean, walks are kind of boring in Nebraska. There is nothing to see in my neighborhood. Oh well, I guess I need it!

I took forever getting ready, and finally launched out the door, only to realize that I could drive my car to walk somewhere else...now that was a fun option! So, I drove three blocks away (LOL) to my local church, and walked around Lake Street Park...and I kid you not, it was the most awe-inspiring walk in years. I listened to Beirut "Nantes" and "Sunday Smile" and felt my soul suddenly become light. I looked up at the trees, and smelled the air, so fresh and cool. I shoved my hands in my pockets and started to sway to the music, and felt a new feeling...yet, an old feeling. (a contradiction, but a truth)...

I felt a sense of re-awakening in my spirit. I suddenly was transported back to Europe 2009, walking through the forests outside Brno, listening to introspective music, feeling slightly vulnerable as I was alone, but also extremely alive. I heard the word, "trailblazer", in my heart. I recognized this old feeling that was popping up again--it was a thrill--like the first time you do something you really love. It felt novel, but it was just a walk through my neighborhood! But my heart felt that old feeling of being in Europe on a solo adventure. Vagabonding. Walking trails in unknown places. Striding confidently. Heart lifted. Eyes full of wonder. Heart singing.

When I went to Europe for the second time, 2010, this "old feeling" was entirely void. I felt lost...uninspired, and full of fear. I didn't have that awe I had the first time I went to Europe in 2009. I was seeing it all through the eyes of someone who was trying too hard...who was looking for something she couldn't define. My heart was clouded and heavy. I didn't see the beauty anymore; I just saw everything as a challenge--a struggle. I was on my guard, but even though I felt cautious in my heart ("Don't make a mistake!") I took major risks. I went to the Balkans alone. Why? Well, I yearned to see Medjugorje, the catalyst for my conversion, but I also wanted that sense of adventure back. I guess you could say, being an adventurous free-spirit is an essential part of my identity. When I lived in Craig Lodge, I felt stifled. I was in Scotland, my dream location, but I was restless. I was "stuck in a retreat house" and didn't feel any sense of myself there. Every day when I steamed bed linens, I would stare at a picture of Medjugorje on the laundry room wall and dream about "getting there"--this ideal location where supernatural things happened, and where my soul could feel alive again. I needed an adventure. I was even looking at Italian language books in Craig Lodge's bookcases-- feeling longings to go to Italy and live in the Tuscan hills, or perhaps crash in Brescia with my Carmelite friends. Anywhere but this remote retreat house...where I felt trapped.

What was strange and unexpected about my Craig Lodge experience was this: I loved Craig Lodge in the past. When I visited two years prior for two days on a backpacking trip,  I fell absolutely in love. Craig Lodge immediately fit my ideals: remote, Catholic, charismatic, old world, charming...it was the Highlands at its finest. It was a country get-away that would restore my spirit and help me to discern God's will. I longed for solitude and contemplation with God...in misty hills full of heather. I longed to live in a house with the Blessed Sacrament. I longed to just... retreat. When I got there, I realized that I was living with ten other people...24/7. This was no place to be a hermit. I was here to work and pray--but communally. My idyllic dream suddenly became a dull reality. I was here to be tested.

At this point in my life, the idea of living "in community" (or commune)  was not in my mind's eye--in fact, I really didn't even understand that people came to Craig Lodge for community. I was like "What's community?" I was surprised that I lived with a bunch of light-hearted, raucous young adults from all over the world (pretty much half Americans/half Brits). When I visited Craig Lodge in '09, the community was very international (French, German, Austrailian, Polish, Irish) -- a different vibe than living with five other Americans. I admit, I was disappointed to live with so many Americans--I wanted a multicultural experience. I was in Europe for a reason! Now I laugh--I would have it no other way and love every single loud American I lived, worked and prayed with, and often affectionally called Craig Lodge, "The Real World...Catholic." (like MTV, get it?)

One thing that did intrigue me was the question of "Who am I living with?" I was genuinely curious about each and every single person's story. So, I made comments like "Oh, what's your story?" or "Isn't it weird that we live in a retreat house in Scotland? In the middle of nowhere? I mean, you'd have to be a different kind of person to choose that!" I expected dramatic things like "Yeah, I want to be a Carthusian monk." or "I needed to become one with the Earth." (kidding) But really, I think I expected a group of quiet, almost stoic people who came to be in solitude--something almost, oddly hermit like. I mean we WERE in the middle of nowhere and it fit the "mold" in my head of people who choose to live in a retreat house.

Well, the funny thing was: we all came for such different purposes. I suppose I came for the dramatic "hermitage" experience-- go to a wild, remote place...a romantic escapade with God. It was a bit idealized as I said--I had a lot to learn. I think others came for more wise and logical reasons: to get healing and to get closer to Jesus. The fundamental purpose of Craig Lodge Community was surprisingly hospitality and healing. I was surprised--I realized I came to Craig Lodge with the wrong intention--I was almost looking for escape. I had saved all my pennies, delayed relationships, and pretty much savored a dream in my head for two years. I had created an ideal in my head. I was stunned over the shock of losing my dream, and also I had no idea what I was going to do if God was calling me to leave Craig Lodge. I was lost.

Looking back, I can see myself and I just want to give myself a big hug. I bought a one way ticket over to Scotland, with no return way home. Yep, the term "lost little girl" is not an understatement.  I had no money in my bank account to bring me back to Nebraska, and not only that--I didn't want to go home just yet. I saved all my money and dreamt about this experience for so long that to return to Nebraska would be admitting defeat. I knew there must be something else for me to do in Europe! So in my hour of free time we got each week, I was nervously and frantically contacting all my Europe contacts: (my HLI friend in Vienna, Carmelite priest friend in Italy...Polish friend in Czech Republic), and also trying to forge a new plan--contacting pro-life contacts in Edinburgh to see if I could find a job. I didn't want to go home, dangit! And i certainly didn't have the money to buy a one way ticket at the last minute. Looking back, I can see the foolishness in my behavior. Does the Spirit usually work in frenzy and haste? Last time I checked, the Spirit is peaceful and tranquil. In fact, I would say in majority of circumstances, the Holy Spirit builds upon other events, and works quite gradually. I was forcing something and it felt chaotic.

In the end, I decided I needed to go to Medjugorje. I felt I needed to run to my Mother (The Blessed Virgin Mary who has appearing in this small Bosnian village for 30 years), because I had no answers and nowhere to go. She would welcome me. (Well, I wasn't thinking of it this way to be honest, I was more thinking: Fine, I need a miracle. I'm gonna go LIVE in Medjugorje.) Yep...LIVE. I am not an extreme person at all... ;)
I was reading Sr. Emmanuel's ("Hidden Child of Medjugorje") and she wrote much about Divine Providence...and depending on it for miracles. She even cited a story about St. Joseph, and how a convent once ran out of milk, so they slipped a drawing of a milk jug into his statue at their convent. About a day later, their doorbell rang only to find a man holding a cat. The sisters eagerly accepted the cat, but were confused...they needed milk! "We need milk!" the sisters yelped. The man grinned, and said "Why I have plenty!" And brought over many containers of milk. I thought this story was delightful, so I did the same thing...I drew a picture of me travelling to Medjugorje. I drew a picture of a "free ride" and other things...and I distinctly remember a chocolate bar, (I mean, if he's so generous and quirky, than I may as well ask!) and other things. I drew a picture of an airplane, and it said "a way out"...it is strange how much St. Joseph delivered. (see Medjugorje story)--by the way, this post has yet to be written!

Why did I go into my past so deeply just now? Well, I would say for starters, it is part of my present. I am feeling a new feeling in me. For the past year, I have wanted to go back to Europe--I was back to idealizing the place that caused me so much turmoil. But I was in a back and forth battle--on one hand, I missed Europe and desired to live there so strongly but on the other hand, I had many religious and holy folks telling me to stop searching and travelling all the time. Stay here in Lincoln. Form roots. It's right here, Rachael. Don't be risky. I even felt God abandoning me...I didn't feel Him. I had a hollowness in me--there was nothing there to dream for anymore. I didn't want to get my "hopes up" again--and even looking for different opportunities abroad always drained me. It was a road that led to nowhere. So I stopped dreaming...I stopped fantasizing...I accepted my reality in Lincoln and I tried to let go. I tried to surrender. I tried. I tried. I tried. And through all this hard work of self-surrender to the will of God, I realized one essential ingredient was missing from my abandonment to divine providence: hope. Oh dear me, hope was gone. I had no hope that my lot would change or that my soul would sing with joy again. I was resigned to the will of God, but I was devoid of hope. I was accepting...but I was heavy.

Oh, I am not trying to paint myself as some morose, depressed person who never laughs or enjoys life. No, the Lord gave me so much in Lincoln this year--about five new friends and a deeper appreciation for my town. I found new hobbies (cooking, thrifting)...and discovered you can find contentment just about anywhere. But this hope thing--yes, I definitely lost it somewhere between Scotland and Wyoming. I was afraid to ever make a move again--afraid to make a mistake. My dear aunt Carol told me that the Holy Spirit told her that I am afraid of failure--which is entirely unhuman. Humans are made to fail, period. We are made to make mistakes. We are "little ones" and the closer we get to God, the more we understand, we are not perfect, but rather are full of imperfections. We rely on God for everything! And so, as I was afraid to be out of step with God's will, I was forming a wall of fool-proof discernment around me: I didn't want to feel the crash of failure smacking my face like gritty pavement again. I avidly started to study Discernment of Spirits, and started to become perceptive to things that brought me peace and joy. I didn't want to be wrong again! I started to downplay my desires again, and started to just kind of wait around until God told me to do something. The problem was: God wasn't really speaking so loudly at this point in my life. He was hidden. So, I kind of just fretted about how much I needed to know answers. I was waiting for God.

What a weird year. What lessons I've learned about myself! I would say I came to an understanding about God a few months ago: He loves patience. As I was watching the snow fall silently the other night, I realized that a silent, slow snowfall at midnight is much like our Lord and His revelations: they come slowly, quietly, and when you least expect. A snowfall is astonishly beautiful and contemplative, yet also playful. It is like a child; as it brings out the "little one" in you as you twirl and gleefully spread your arms in its shower. It's one of God's delights, and it is a great vision of who God is. I stood in the middle of my street in holy awe. Snowfalls are romantic, just like God.

I need to go and finish eating my spaghetti squash and meatballs. Man, I had a heck of a time cooking that last night! I was furious actually--as my little meatballs kept crumbling and losing it's ball shape. The little buggers wouldn't brown, and the pan was getting all burnt and crispy. I was pretty disheartened and realized how hard I can be on myself. I should as a "little one" of Jesus, expect to fail at everything without His grace, and I admit that my pride is still making itself very known. Perhaps the Litany of Humility should become a daily devotion for me...oh, and asking the Holy Spirit for wisdom--in my opinion, the greatest of God's gifts.

"Therefore I prayed, and prudence was given me; I pleaded, and the Spirit of Wisdom came to me. I preferred her to scepter and throne, and deemed riches nothing in comparison with her, nor did I liken any priceless gem to her." (Wisdom 7:7)

Dear Lord, please give us Wisdom, to help us know the paths in which you want us to walk. Lord, you know that a man's path is dark and full of traps, so please send us Wisdom, for "who ever knew your counsel, except who you had given Wisdom and sent your Holy Spirit from on high?" (Wisdom 9: 17)