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)

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