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)

inspired to blog or tired?

Im pretty sure i haven't blogged in ages, and i really need to write more. It's the inner artist in me who needs to bare my soul and string flowers in my hair--compiling my thoughts into eloquent sentences full of depth and whimsy. Yeah, okay. So, i'm tired from work (new job= awesome) and I am happy to say I actually LIKE my job for once. I am a librarian assistant, hired by a temp agency, and I essentially speak with international students (my fellow co-workers), collect dimes (for the printer/copier) and occasionally shelf a book (on a busy day). I do feel like bit of a slacker--not gonna lie, but in a good way. I feel as if God is saying "I gave you this job, so enjoy it!" And i do enjoy it. I love to peruse the bookshelves looking for something to skim during my eight hour shift or finding a recipe in a magazine and ferociously copying it on slips of paper lying about. Man, I just love hanging out in libraries--and this is a college library. Meaning, there's a different vibe going on than your standard city library. There's a higher energy (mad scrambles to finish papers, young people laughing, and a general ambition to study and read and stuff) so I have a feelin' in my heart, that public libraries have a bit more of a sleepy, droned out vibe. I've been told to tone down the vocal intensity (I'm kind of loud) which makes me laugh, as I do have a voice and laugh that carries, so working in a library is kind of ironic. But I definitely like the quiet. Definitely. I love to contemplate...and generally really despise background noise. So, the quiet atmosphere really kind of makes me calm--a natural laxative. LOL. (I have known other book worms to admit this too! You know you're a bookworm when you can only "relax" in a library.)

Sooooooo....yeah, I am in a new stage of thinking too. Great books can truly form our minds, and I am reading one that is doing just that--called "Consoling the Heart of Jesus" by Fr. Michael Gaitley. My favorite bits have been the parts about the Little Way (the inspiration for my blog name "Le Petite Voie" which is little way in French) and also Divine Mercy. Who knew the two could be combined? Apparently, Cardinal Schonbern (sp?) ... and the guy who wrote the book, but I was pleasantly surprised.  Here is what has impacted me:
1) The Little Way of St Therese is so simple--yet it's so tough! It definitely requires grace to comprehend...in fact, that is the genius of Therese. She understands that "little souls" (ahem) need Jesus to do everything for them. Sounds like spiritual laziness? It's not. Jesus really is our all in all--remember that little verse in Scriptures that says only by the Spirit of God can we say "Jesus is Lord"? Yeah, I dont remember where--but what hits me about that is how everything truly is a grace from God. This particular truth blows my mind so much. I can't even utter that phrase without God's permission, or in other words--grace. So, as I am sitting in my abyss of smoke...my dark night...my labyrinth of confusion (love rhetoric)  I see a beam of light: I don't have to have my life figured out. What? You mean, God WILLS the mystery? But, God, what if I need to know? I mean--I know some folks just wanna know stuff because they are like Adam and Eve and have an unhealthy desire for knowledge and stuff like that, but I have a deadline. The world needs an answer--I got superiors who need answers, and I'm being "counted on" to deliver. So YOU, kind Sir, need to deliver. You need to let me know Your Will--like asap. I only got 53 minutes left of my Holy Hour. So I am just gonna sit here and stare at the stack of books next to me ("Ooo, the life of Saint Margaret Clitherow looks swell") until you lemme know. But God, seriously? I need to know. Okay, God, this really sucks--why are you doing this to me? I mean, I have waited so long. I mean, I know you -- you are just waiting for me to be resigned right? To surrender? Yeah, I did that already. Remember, last Tuesday's holy hour? Totally gave it all to you, Lord. I am still waiting on an answer. Okay, now there's 49 minutes left. I am dying, God. I am literally dying.  *Insert head in hands and slowly rocking*

You are probably reading this and either thinking "Is this for real?" or maybe, "Is this chick nuts?" but honestly, it is real, and yes I am nuts. And I like to eat nuts too--like all of da' time. I make you nut bread. Okay! But seriously that IS my inner dialogue in prayer. I think it's highly accurate. Here's what's good about it: I'm being real with Jesus. I am not hiding my frustration and piously praying a rosary with all THAT going on. No, I am super annoyed and He knows it. So, I nailed that (being sincere and open to God)--but here's my little problem on my journey on the Little Way...I fail to remember one word: acceptance. Oh, and another--confidence. Yikes. Does that dialogue above sound like a surrendered soul confident in the riches of God? Absofruitly not. It's kind of hilarious because it's like, opposite. So how does one, who has to make decisions but feels very in the dark, solve the problem of cluelessness? When God doesn't give us a big kick in the pants like we WANT? This is my conclusion: accept the darkness. Accept the fact that God has not opened your mind to His will. Key word: opened your mind. Yes, in Scriptures it says God opens the mind of His people, and He can also close the minds of His people too. At the moment, God has not opened my mind about my future. It's dark...hazy...and just kind of there. I don't have great desires like I did in the past ("I want to be live in Europe...on a mountain...covered in mist...with a sheepherder as my husband...and we'll grow organic veg and sleep in a thatch covered cottage...no, we'll have a caravan! Even MORE gyspy.") My heart does not burn for this like it once did...and that is part of "detachment." The more "little" we become...the less our desires, virtues, sacrifices, and gifts really matter. We see it all as "little nothings," because they don't matter in the long run--what matters is that we accept we are nothing without Christ, and Christ is everything. (Seek first the Kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto you.)We need nothing, and we want for nothing when we can see the True Treasure gazing upon us. He constantly gazes! That in itself is intense, and rather wonderful. The Divine Gaze...you will never feel alone if you remember this.

So, you might think, "geez, that's all fine and good that you are waiting for God to open your mind or whatever (--is she a druggie now?), but you need to make a decision, and be within reason." Yes, I agree. God wants me to make a decision. He wants me to act--not sit and contemplate for hours on what I should or should not do. But here's the thing: I firmly believe that when we are in a period of darkness about where God wills us, we have to accept this as part of His will. I am walking with God, so during the journey when it gets hazy, and I am asked to make a decision at a fork in the road, and suddenly my roadside companion disappears in the fog, I need to choose and walk one way or another. The cool thing about Jesus is He doesn't demand we stick to that path we chose, just in case it's not exactly what He intended. (Does Jesus ever demand?) Sure, we may walk our route, tripping and stumbling along, but in the end, Jesus will take us through the brush and go "off-roading" until we get back to the correct path--"the scenic route" which He especially designed for us. Heck, He might even backtrack a bit so we can meet the people we were intended to "pass along the way." So, don't feel constricted by past failures or even by a poorly discerned decision: HE lifts the fog--we cannot. So don't try to get out your map and frantically navigate where you're going, because if you're in a fog--you're in a fog. Just walk. The Spirit doesn't use maps anyway.

And heck, even our "wrong choices" can be used--God can take our yes's that should have been heck no's and make them into humbling experiences that transform us. I know that in my past, I have committed to things that were such gambles, like packing up my entire car and moving to Wyoming to live on a horse ranch for teen girls. Say, whaaaat? Yeah, that is so weird. I don't even like that idea at all, but back than, about a year ago, I thought it sounded so epic...so adventurous. I lasted one week. One measly week. Yeah, I committed to this thing. I packed up my life into my car...I tearfully left my hometown and even crashed a wedding to say goodbye to all my "old friends." Yeah, it was dramatic all right. I got to Wyoming...and I had a pit in my stomach from the start. It didn't "feel right." I didn't notice it initially--who does? I thought it was jitters from moving to a new place and having no clue about my job--especially the "cowgirl lifestyle." I didn't own any riding jeans or boots that could tolerate temps of -50 C. No. I just, like,  really love nature...and the ranch was "Catholic", and I live to do weird things. PS, they needed help--really badly. I felt it was quite providential, as the girl who's job I was replacing actually lived in the same retreat house as me in Scotland. I was sure externally-- it looked right. I even had a degree in Family Science/Psychology, which was exactly what they were looking for as it was a treatment program for adolescent teen girls. So, why the heck did I only stay one week? I mean, that's not even a fair shot! I should have at least stuck it out for a month! Push through, Rachael. Yeah...see, again I disagree. I felt completely and totally miserable...but not even just on a physical level--my spirit felt completely trapped and suffocated. Not only that, but the treatment itself was entirely against my own ideology. The girls were penalized for almost everything, including sharing with another girl their favorite band "back home", as it could be a manipulation technique to gain alliances. Such penalties were varied, but mostly it was along the lines of "Give me 100 pushups." That was too military for me. Also, we, the staff, were not allowed to give out any personal information, and were advised to not wear clothing with personal info on it (college, home state, hobbies), as that too could be used for manipulation. My head spun. I couldn't talk to the girls in a real way? Or form relationships? I had to keep my boundaries--these girls were in a severe treatment program for a reason. This program was the rock bottom for these young girls--it was a very expensive, private treatment program that was intended to make them break. There was nothing gentle about it. No electrity in the cabins...wood burning stoves...carrying crates of books under fences for miles with 100 degree winds, and even signs to wear around your neck when you disobey. I was appalled when I saw a young girl sitting on the floor behind a woodburning stove with a blank look staring at the wall for days on end. "This is her penalty. You can't believe a word they say. Don't feel bad for them." Um....okay. If anyone knows me, they would understand why this would be my anti-job. I did feel bad for them. On some level, I understood they felt hopeless and completely trapped. If the girls must undergo this sense of imprisonment and harsh conditions, so must its staff. I am not saying it's all wrong--some of it is necessary, but my heart disagreed with much and I didn't have passion to withstand such a lifestyle. I also felt the ranch was a  bit untruthful in the way they market themselves online--they state they value an organic, whole foods diet...but yet the girls only ate Sysco products. Sysco, my friends, is what is served prepackaged in our public school system. It's about as un-organic as it gets.

The ranch itself was about 25 miles from a Catholic church (yeah, that's not gonna work for me--Jesus and I are not long distance, OK?) and the nearest town was around 50 miles away. I like my solitude...but I need social interaction from people other than those whom I live AND work with 24/7. This place was so remote that there wasn't even a zipcode where we lived...it was in a snowy valley surrounded by desolate mountains. Desolate. Yes, that is the word of the trip. This place just made me...so desolate. Even when I went into town, I met a lovely young woman who described Wyoming as "Desolation Station." I laughed so hard--how literal God can be when trying to wake us up! I was on the verge of bawling every five minutes because my spirit felt so imprisioned...the ranch even looked like a concentration camp. I am not taking literary liberties...I've been to Auschwitz--this ranch had barren written all over it. It has barb wire fences. It would have been pretty beautiful if it was summer...but man, it was January--and the snow was up to my calves. And man, that wind. Did you know Clark, WY is one of the most windy places in the country? 130 mph winds! I thought I was gonna blow away, and man, I wanted to!

So, what does all this mean? It means that my spirit was crying out...I felt no freedom there. I felt no joy. I felt no peace. The fruits of the Spirit were nada. I felt completely trapped...and I remember that I felt so trapped that all pride was out the window. I didn't care how ridiculous I looked...I had to get out. I even called my spiritual director crying telling him I wanted to leave, and he wisely advised I try to stay another week. So, I woefully went to the church to pray about this on my Sunday off, only to meet a young woman from Portland, Oregon (whom I mentioned above). I bought the book "He Leadeth Me" by Fr. Walter Ciszek (again, super providential for this period of my life) and was telling her of my despair and feeling of being trapped. She was so delightful and I spoke with her for many hours in that church vestibule, and I felt joy and consolation rushing into me. She was describing to me Portland, and how hippy it was....and about the pro-life movement that she was involved in...and how there's Ukrainian churches, and all kind of ethnicities living in Portland. (Interestingly enough, all the things I LOVE. Coincidence, I think not!)  She even went so far as to give me a million phone numbers, just in case I move there. One happened to be her old landlord, Betty, who was a 3rd order Dominican, who only charged 200 a month for rent. I could move to Portland if I wanted. (Tempting...I even called Betty on my hour long drive back to the ranch) But, what about sticking it out? Waiting a week? I knew in my heart of hearts, as the consoling conversation with my new friend revealed, that I was not meant to stay a moment longer. I was to get out very quickly--and God did indeed confirm it more ways than one. But the easiest way to describe it was I had an ephiphany--I just had a rush of joy and knowledge that I was "freed." I wasn't called to work there. Poor discernment, but big learning lesson and a sweet dollop of cream to go on my humble pie.

The next morning I confidently and peacefully walked into the head director's office and gave him my resignation. He fought me on it--oh man, good thing the Holy Spirit spoke through me, because his questions were so rough. At first, he seemed super ticked--and rightfully so. But, was he the one who packed up his whole life and moved to a foreign place only to look like a fool? Nah. But I did impair the girls' treatment by coming into their lives in this remote area, and than suddenly leaving. And for that, I am sincerely sorry. We spoke about my mode of discernment (Ignatian) and how one must feel peace from Christ if they are called to something. He challenged me: "I was discerning religious life for about four years...and it wasn't always easy. You've got to at least try...this will be the hardest thing you'll ever do but it is the most rewarding."  However, I had unshakeable confidence and looked at him and said "I did not feel peace in any process before or after accepting this position. I came because of "signs" and what looked like God's will--as you were in great need of help and I, too, needed a job. But, in my discernment I never felt an interior peace and God only speaks through peace." His reply: And how do you know that you won't do the same thing again-- commit to a situation than quit?" Yeah, he's a psychologist, and yeah he was right. This could be a reoccuring theme in my life-- what if I am setting myself up for a downward spiral here? And I was honest: "I don't know. But, next time, I will sit in front of the Eucharist until Jesus confirms it with peace. Otherwise I will not do it." And he just looked at me and told me I had 24 hours to leave. So I packed up my car within an hour and headed off to my freedom, rejoicing like I've never rejoiced before. It's only when you feel in chains that you realize how truly precious the freedom of Christ is! He wants us to live an unchained life.

So, that being said you may understand my fear of making decisions or mistakes, as that story is only one of my "failures" so to speak. But what did Jesus do? He gave me an ephiphany. He orchestrated my deliverance. I can't pull it out of Him--I just gotta trust. He's gonna do it. So, even if we put ourselves into a situation that is pretty much dead locked and we're committed--He can find us a way out. God is freedom. We're not trapped. Even those who really are in prisons and death camps...they still find a "way out." Their attitudes change. They see their imprisonment as part of God's will until the day they get their parole. My parole is consolation...it's that "ah-ha" moment where God lifts the fog and I can see the sun shining again. I am waiting for that right now. I got a new situation and it is not easy--and I would blog about it but I'm afraid to for lack of discretion. I am waiting for the peace that only Christ can give...I am waiting for my epiphany...and I know it will come. That's my confidence that I borrowed from St. Therese...it's a new hope that God, who can only open the mind, is taking His time designing and arranging the perfect "ah-ha" moment so I will know in my heart of hearts what I am called to do. God is solid--He doesn't rest on shaky ground. So neither should we. I will rest that the solid assurance of His answer will come, and it will come with joy...and peace.

AMDG!