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.