I've only been at Franciscan for a week and God has already blown my mind with everything that He's taught me and started to heal me of. I think I might grow even more in my faith than last semester, if that's even possible. But we are called to ongoing conversion.. we don't just get to a certain level and then call it good. We must always work with God to grow deeper in knowledge of Him and His love and ever further away from sin.
The idea of imperfection and humility has been thrown in my face this week- in conversations with friends, priests' homilies, class lectures, and FOP speeches. I have been a perfectionist all my life.. part of it is my desire to always please people, for them to have a good impression of me. The other part is for me to please myself and inflate my own pride. I've been trying to work on my pride for some time now, and thought I was doing pretty good (which is prideful in itself haha)- but this weekend helped me to see that I still have a long way to go.
God helped me realize that I'm scared not to be a perfectionist. I don't know what that feels like. I'm scared to loose control and show my faults to others. I've come a long way with admitting my faults to myself and embracing them, but I still can't seem to show them to other people. There's something blocking me everytime that I try to. My friend here described it as being a "super-server." It is someone who serves the Lord in various ministries, who always tries to make it seem like he/she is serving perfectly and doesn't have one fault. I've fallen into this trap so many times. Especially with Haiti. I don't want it to seem like I'm the perfect missionary, because I'm not. Far from it. But with God's grace I can continue on my journey and serve the way He wants me to. So, when reading my blog postings about my trips or looking at my pictures, please don't look at me but at Christ working through me in all my imperfections.
God also showed me some wounds in my heart that have led me to this state of needing perfection. I think that I need to prove myself to God. That I need to have perfect holiness in order for Him to love me, in order to be good enough for Him. If I don't, then maybe He won't think I'm worth loving anymore and He'll get mad at me. This is the FARTHEST thing from the truth!! There is nothing that I can do that will make God love me more, because God IS love. There is also nothing that I can do that will make God love me less, because God is love. To not love any one of us would be to contradict Himself, which is impossible because He is absolute Truth. So I need to stop thinking that I need to be a certain person in order for Him to love me- He loves me just the way I am. Yes, there is always room for improvement, but we need to fully accept ourselves in our present state before we can start growing in true holiness. You don't need to be perfect to be good- Jesus knows that we can't save ourselves and that we're going to sin. That's why He came to die for us.
The secret of the saints is not that they were perfect (like I tend to think of them as) or that they constantly sacrificed. It lies in the fact that they accepted that they were weak, and allowed God to work through them and strengthen them. They were humble enough to admit their struggles and weaknesses before God and man, and themselves. God loves us despite our imperfections- He wants to help us fix them, but won't turn us away because of them. Look at the majority of the saints- some of the greatest sinners came to be the greatest saints due to God's unending mercy and love.
I came across this message from God the Father in one of Anne a Lay Apostle's volumes: "Children, I love you in all your imperfection. I love you with all of the scars and marks you carry as the result of your flaws and mistakes. They mean nothing to Me in the sense that I did not make you to be perfect. I made you to overcome your weaknesses, and, utilizing your free will, to choose Me."
Also, Fr. Jacques Philippe says in his book "Interior Freedom" that "the person God loves with the tenderness of a Father, the person he wants to touch and to transform with his love, is not the person we'd have like to be or ought to be. It's the person we are. God doesn't love 'ideal persons' or 'virtual beings.' He loves actual, real people. What often blocks the action of God's grace in our lives is less our sins or failings, than it is our failure to accept our own weakness. We refuse to admit that we have this defect, that weak point...and so we block the Holy Spirit's action, since he can only affect our reality to the extent we accept it ourselves. We must accept ourselves just as we are, if the Holy Spirit is to change us for the better. We need to desire to change, but without ever refusing, even subconsciously, to recognize our limitations or accept ourselves."
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Feast of the Assumption
Yesterday was the feast of the Assumption, a very special day for me for a number of reasons. My special devotion to the Assumption started in high school, when my family went on a cruise in Europe. One of the stops was the ancient city of Ephesus in present-day Turkey, to whom the Letter to the Ephesians was addressed in the New Testament. Up on a mountain overlooking the ruins of the city is a house, thought to be the place where St. John the Evangelist took the Blessed Mother to after the Cruicifixion to live out the rest of her days on earth. It was one of my first encounters with Mary, to see the place where she lived. It was so immensely peaceful up on that mountain, surrounded by trees and silence. Inside the house, which has been restored on top of the original foundation, is an altar and a room filled with crutches, canes, and special support shoes. These have all been left behind by cripples who have come to the house and left healed, due to Mary's intercession. Most of them had bathed in the water of a spring next to the house, and the water is said to have healing graces much like Lourdes water. We took a water bottle full of this water home with us (thankfully it was two days before the airlines started having liquid restrictions on the plane!) and I've blessed people with it in Haiti, in Steubenville, and here in CT with my own family.
My special link to the Assumption deepened when I decided to do St. Louis de Montfort's consecration to Mary. Without knowing it at first I chose August 15th, the feast of the Assumption, as my consecration date. It was so awesome to be able to consecrate myself to Mary on a feast day that I had a connection with. I then found out that the Assumption is also a huge day in Durverger, the village in Haiti where the orphanage is. The chapel in the village is named Our Lady of the Assumption, and they have a huge feast celebration there every August 15th. It was such a confirmation for me, that my vocation in life is intertwined with Haiti with Mary as the binding force.
Our Lady of the Assumption, pray for us!
My special link to the Assumption deepened when I decided to do St. Louis de Montfort's consecration to Mary. Without knowing it at first I chose August 15th, the feast of the Assumption, as my consecration date. It was so awesome to be able to consecrate myself to Mary on a feast day that I had a connection with. I then found out that the Assumption is also a huge day in Durverger, the village in Haiti where the orphanage is. The chapel in the village is named Our Lady of the Assumption, and they have a huge feast celebration there every August 15th. It was such a confirmation for me, that my vocation in life is intertwined with Haiti with Mary as the binding force.
Our Lady of the Assumption, pray for us!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
M' adore ou Jezi
Every time I go to Haiti, I have a totally different experience than the last. This trip I had the privledge of leading a group of 8 amazing men and women. While the fact that our group had a big range of ages, personalities, and prayer styles sometimes posed a challenge to me as a leader, God totally allowed us to see the grace of it. We all brought something unique to the group, and each one of us was meant to go on this trip for a specific reason, to bring something to it. It was also a lesson in humility for me, to give total control to God. I needed to let Him work through me to lead these people and open their hearts- it was nothing that I could do on my own. All Glory to Him!
I experienced such a range of emotions on our first day. First, anticipation. Would we be able to get through the airport ok without any problems? The group was looking to me to get us through ok, relying on me. It was an unsettling thought. Could I actually do it? I knew with God's grace we would be fine. I had gone over this in my mind so many times- go through immigration, get our bags, walk outside, and find Manno. It was simple. There was a short feeling of relief when we got outside and found a nice man to help us carry our bags and lead us down the sidewalk to the parking lot. Then, fear gripped my heart. Our truck wasn't there. Manno and Joe's warm smiling faces were nowhere to be seen. Ok God, get us through this. I trust in You. Thankfully, He prompted me to get Manno's cell phone number about 5 minutes before we borded the flight at JFK. And He also placed a nice Haitian man in the right spot at the right time who let me use his cell phone. I was able to get Manno on the phone, who told me Joe had the truck and gave me his number. Adrenaline had been pulsating through my veins for a bit by this point, so I was about to quickly hang up the phone and call Joe when Manno calmly asked "so, how are you??" as if there was nothing else going on. I kinda laughed and told him I was good and that I had to go call Joe. That's what I love about Haiti- they don't have the same sense of rushing as we do. They will gladly be a half hour late somewhere in order to stay and have a conversation with you.
After about 10 minutes I saw the big blue truck pulling into the parking lot and an immense feeling of relief and excitement washed over me. We all ran to meet Joe and Alexis, who I didn't believe was one of our cops at first. I jumped out of the back of the truck when Manno pulled in shortly after, and we hugged and talked for about 5 minutes. Manno is seriously one of my heros. He does so much work for the mission, especially after the earthquake when he kept going back and forth to Port Au Prince to bring refugees out to the village. He has every right to be exhausted, but continues to serve with so much joy. I also saw Uncle Jean and Brother DeLord, both of whom are important spiritual fathers of the mission and bring me so much joy as well.
We all got into the truck and started our long journey out to the village. The feeling of total joy that I had just been feeling quickly went away when we started driving past the tent cities and collapsed buildings of Port Au Prince. The sights and smells hit me particularly hard this time. Everybody fell silent for this part of the ride, and as I sat in the back corner of the truck tears were welling up in my eyes. You would think I would be used to it by now. But I think I was really seeing it for the first time in all its reality. Usually I am so happy to just be back in Haiti that I see everything in the city through a fog. But God allowed that veil to be ripped back this time, and I really started to imagine what it would be like to live in these conditions all the time, day after day, with no hope of a better future. The tent cities of people made homeless by the earthquake stirred up the most emotion in me. I was angered that there was no progress in the 3 months that I had been away, let alone in the 7 months since the earthquake. The tent camps were so much more personal to me now, after meeting people who actually lived in them on my last trip. They weren't just some distant concept that I was looking at from the outside anymore- they were real life. I looked at the people in each one that we passed, not just the tents. I saw the lack of clean water, of privacy. I saw men washing themselves with little buckets of water, trying to keep clean and keep their dignity in the best way that they could. I saw children lethargic from the heat and malnutrition, sitting in their mothers' laps with vacant expressions on their faces. It made me want to scream. I wanted to jump out and help every single one of them. But it was impossible. I felt guilty for being on my way to such a beautiful place in the mountains, for just passing through the city, when these people have to live here 24/7. It turns out that God gave me comfort about this in a few days time, but for the moment He wanted me to stay in this feeling of helplessness and sadness.
As we got to the outskirts of the city, we stopped at a gas station to have one of our tires fixed. Joe came around to the back of the truck and invited us to go inside the little convenience store with him to buy some cold drinks. A group of about 6 of us went in, and as soon as we crossed over the threshold the whole place fell silent. All eyes were on us. I have never felt so out of place in my life. We had to walk to the back of the store to where the coolers were, and it seemed like the walk took forever. I didn't know if I should look up and try to smile at people or just keep my head down. I wondered if they were resentful to see us, wondering who we thought we were to walk into a place like this and get refreshing drinks when a million people were living on the streets right around the corner. Or maybe they were thankful to see us. I will never know. Back outside, a boy about 12 years old was standing by the truck. I started talking to him, and he asked for water. I gave him some, and he told me that his mom was dead. I didn't understand him at first, so he said "my mom" and then rested his head on his hands pretending to be asleep. I thought that was so precious, that he thinks of her resting peacefully in Heaven. I gave him a Cliff bar too, and he was so thankful. I told him I was praying for him and for his mom, and he said he would pray for me too.
The roads were really bumpy this time around from all of the rain that they have been having. Just when we turned off the paved road and started to bounce around, I saw Brother (who was sitting next to me) take out his rosary and start praying. It was so calming to see that, to know that we were in good hands. The ride was rough but totally worth it when we pulled into the orphanage. Most of the kids were still awake, and when I got off the truck they all surged forward and surrounded me in one huge group hug. It was such a beautiful moment, to finally have built relationships with them so that they remember me. Within about a minute everyone had a kid in their arms.
With the morning came the sounds of children playing, men working, and various roosters, donkeys, and goats. We painted the rest of the upstairs rooms the first two days while the guys made much-needed screens for the windows. We swam in the river every day and played with the kids every free moment we had. I had some awesome talks with Kendra up on the roof, and we prayed a rosary one evening as the sun was going down and the stars were coming out. Every night we all gathered for evening prayer on the steps of the orphanage. While most nights it was very calm and peaceful, the second night we were there it turned into an awesome praise and worship session. We were clapping and dancing and singing at the tops of our lungs. My heart and soul felt so free, so joyful. It was like something in me had been holding back on this trip until this moment, and it finally broke free.
Our project for this trip was to sort through all of the clothes, shoes, and toys that had been donated to the orphanage over the course of the summer. There were so many bins, way too much for the needs of our one orphanage. The people in Dandann, the next village over, had been complaining that they couldn't go to church because they didn't have nice enough clothes to wear. So the mission decided to keep what they needed and give the rest to Dandann. As we were sorting through everything, some of the kids came into the room and wanted to help us. It was so cute watching them try to fold clothes. At one point, Kendy saw a stuffed animal that he really liked. He pointed to it, and I told him that it was for the kids in Dandann. Without even skipping a beat he points to himself and says "mwen Dandann" (I'm Dandann). He's so funny. A little bit later, MacKendy was sitting next to me and found a brightly colored baby hat. He put it on his head and asked if he could have it. I told him he could wear it for now, and his face lit up. He never took it off after that, even wearing it to bed. MacKendy and I get along so well because we are very similar people. He's one of the quieter kids, and usually gets pushed into the background by the more outgoing and loud ones. He's so sweet, so peaceful, and is ridiculously smart. His eyes are so big and full of love, and you feel like you can look right into his soul. Johnna said he was asking for me before I got there, and when I went to say goodbye to him he wouldn't let me hug him at first because he didn't want me to leave.
We sang a song in night prayer that I had never heard before. It goes something like this: "Jesus, I adore You in the children, I adore You in the clouds, I adore You in the rivers, I adore You in the mountains, I adore You in the stars, I adore You in the church.." and keeps going, listing the things we can adore Jesus through. It was so fitting for our trip. Every night there was a thunderstorm, and you could see the lightening coming over the mountains while patches of brilliant stars still shone through. I would lay up on the roof on my back and just stay there, in awe of God's creation. The rain thundered down loud enough to wake us up at night. We bathed in the river one night as a storm was approaching. It was so dark that we could hardly see our hands in front of our face, until lightening lit up the sky like daylight. It was like God giving us His flashlight. It started to rain just as we were getting out, and soon we were wetter standing out in the pouring rain that we had been in the river. We got back to the orphanage and a small group of people was sitting on the porch, with Alexi playing guitar. The group of us stood out in the rain and danced to the music while everyone laughed at us inside. Alexi taught us a song that said "don't forget what Jesus is doing for you." He did so much for all of us that night.
Every morning we would gather on the roof to read the Gospel for the day and meditate on it, connecting it to our experiences on the trip. On one of the last mornings, the Gospel was a very obscure and confusing passage so I decided to read the meditation in the Magnificat instead. It was so providential, because it was an excerpt of St. Benedicta of the Cross and absolutely perfect for our trip. She talks about the suffering in the world, and how we want to help every widow, orphan, poor person, etc. This is impossible on our own. But Christ can be everywhere, and by uniting our sufferings to Him at the foot of the Cross we can bring graces to anyone in the world. So even though we could not physically stop and help every single person in Port Au Prince, through offering up our sufferings and through prayer and sacrifice we can help all of them through the Body of Christ. It was such an answer to our prayers and brought so much peace to our minds and hearts.
With this in mind, driving back through the city on the way home was not as full of despair. But Joe decided to take some back roads in order to avoid traffic and took us through parts of the city that I've never seen before. It was an area that had been hit very hard by the quake, and on either side of the road buildings were still collapsed. It was like passing through a cemetary, each building a gravestone of the bodies still buried inside. The most powerful moment was when we drove right past the national cathedral. I had seen so many pictures of it on the news but this was the first time I had seen it up close in person. It looks like an empty shell, with the middle part completely collapsed. The outer walls with stained glass windows still stand like memorials of its former glory and beauty. Outside on one corner is the now-famous crucifix statue that is still standing amongst all the rubble. Even though the cathedral, an outer symbol of Catholocism, is lying in ruin, the faith of the Haitians is still strong. The Church in Haiti is living as Christ crucified. They are clinging to the Cross, trusting that God is with them more now than ever. Through their sufferings they are attaining great graces for the rest of the world that we will never realize. Through our own sufferings united to the Cross, we can attain graces for them in return. Port Au Prince is broken, just as Christ hung broken on the Cross. But there is always hope in the Resurrection, in the glory of the Kingdom to come. We saw a glimpse of this glory out in the village, in the orphans who now radiate joyful smiles thanks to the healing powers of love.
M' adore ou Jezi. I adore you Jesus!
I experienced such a range of emotions on our first day. First, anticipation. Would we be able to get through the airport ok without any problems? The group was looking to me to get us through ok, relying on me. It was an unsettling thought. Could I actually do it? I knew with God's grace we would be fine. I had gone over this in my mind so many times- go through immigration, get our bags, walk outside, and find Manno. It was simple. There was a short feeling of relief when we got outside and found a nice man to help us carry our bags and lead us down the sidewalk to the parking lot. Then, fear gripped my heart. Our truck wasn't there. Manno and Joe's warm smiling faces were nowhere to be seen. Ok God, get us through this. I trust in You. Thankfully, He prompted me to get Manno's cell phone number about 5 minutes before we borded the flight at JFK. And He also placed a nice Haitian man in the right spot at the right time who let me use his cell phone. I was able to get Manno on the phone, who told me Joe had the truck and gave me his number. Adrenaline had been pulsating through my veins for a bit by this point, so I was about to quickly hang up the phone and call Joe when Manno calmly asked "so, how are you??" as if there was nothing else going on. I kinda laughed and told him I was good and that I had to go call Joe. That's what I love about Haiti- they don't have the same sense of rushing as we do. They will gladly be a half hour late somewhere in order to stay and have a conversation with you.
After about 10 minutes I saw the big blue truck pulling into the parking lot and an immense feeling of relief and excitement washed over me. We all ran to meet Joe and Alexis, who I didn't believe was one of our cops at first. I jumped out of the back of the truck when Manno pulled in shortly after, and we hugged and talked for about 5 minutes. Manno is seriously one of my heros. He does so much work for the mission, especially after the earthquake when he kept going back and forth to Port Au Prince to bring refugees out to the village. He has every right to be exhausted, but continues to serve with so much joy. I also saw Uncle Jean and Brother DeLord, both of whom are important spiritual fathers of the mission and bring me so much joy as well.
We all got into the truck and started our long journey out to the village. The feeling of total joy that I had just been feeling quickly went away when we started driving past the tent cities and collapsed buildings of Port Au Prince. The sights and smells hit me particularly hard this time. Everybody fell silent for this part of the ride, and as I sat in the back corner of the truck tears were welling up in my eyes. You would think I would be used to it by now. But I think I was really seeing it for the first time in all its reality. Usually I am so happy to just be back in Haiti that I see everything in the city through a fog. But God allowed that veil to be ripped back this time, and I really started to imagine what it would be like to live in these conditions all the time, day after day, with no hope of a better future. The tent cities of people made homeless by the earthquake stirred up the most emotion in me. I was angered that there was no progress in the 3 months that I had been away, let alone in the 7 months since the earthquake. The tent camps were so much more personal to me now, after meeting people who actually lived in them on my last trip. They weren't just some distant concept that I was looking at from the outside anymore- they were real life. I looked at the people in each one that we passed, not just the tents. I saw the lack of clean water, of privacy. I saw men washing themselves with little buckets of water, trying to keep clean and keep their dignity in the best way that they could. I saw children lethargic from the heat and malnutrition, sitting in their mothers' laps with vacant expressions on their faces. It made me want to scream. I wanted to jump out and help every single one of them. But it was impossible. I felt guilty for being on my way to such a beautiful place in the mountains, for just passing through the city, when these people have to live here 24/7. It turns out that God gave me comfort about this in a few days time, but for the moment He wanted me to stay in this feeling of helplessness and sadness.
As we got to the outskirts of the city, we stopped at a gas station to have one of our tires fixed. Joe came around to the back of the truck and invited us to go inside the little convenience store with him to buy some cold drinks. A group of about 6 of us went in, and as soon as we crossed over the threshold the whole place fell silent. All eyes were on us. I have never felt so out of place in my life. We had to walk to the back of the store to where the coolers were, and it seemed like the walk took forever. I didn't know if I should look up and try to smile at people or just keep my head down. I wondered if they were resentful to see us, wondering who we thought we were to walk into a place like this and get refreshing drinks when a million people were living on the streets right around the corner. Or maybe they were thankful to see us. I will never know. Back outside, a boy about 12 years old was standing by the truck. I started talking to him, and he asked for water. I gave him some, and he told me that his mom was dead. I didn't understand him at first, so he said "my mom" and then rested his head on his hands pretending to be asleep. I thought that was so precious, that he thinks of her resting peacefully in Heaven. I gave him a Cliff bar too, and he was so thankful. I told him I was praying for him and for his mom, and he said he would pray for me too.
The roads were really bumpy this time around from all of the rain that they have been having. Just when we turned off the paved road and started to bounce around, I saw Brother (who was sitting next to me) take out his rosary and start praying. It was so calming to see that, to know that we were in good hands. The ride was rough but totally worth it when we pulled into the orphanage. Most of the kids were still awake, and when I got off the truck they all surged forward and surrounded me in one huge group hug. It was such a beautiful moment, to finally have built relationships with them so that they remember me. Within about a minute everyone had a kid in their arms.
With the morning came the sounds of children playing, men working, and various roosters, donkeys, and goats. We painted the rest of the upstairs rooms the first two days while the guys made much-needed screens for the windows. We swam in the river every day and played with the kids every free moment we had. I had some awesome talks with Kendra up on the roof, and we prayed a rosary one evening as the sun was going down and the stars were coming out. Every night we all gathered for evening prayer on the steps of the orphanage. While most nights it was very calm and peaceful, the second night we were there it turned into an awesome praise and worship session. We were clapping and dancing and singing at the tops of our lungs. My heart and soul felt so free, so joyful. It was like something in me had been holding back on this trip until this moment, and it finally broke free.
Our project for this trip was to sort through all of the clothes, shoes, and toys that had been donated to the orphanage over the course of the summer. There were so many bins, way too much for the needs of our one orphanage. The people in Dandann, the next village over, had been complaining that they couldn't go to church because they didn't have nice enough clothes to wear. So the mission decided to keep what they needed and give the rest to Dandann. As we were sorting through everything, some of the kids came into the room and wanted to help us. It was so cute watching them try to fold clothes. At one point, Kendy saw a stuffed animal that he really liked. He pointed to it, and I told him that it was for the kids in Dandann. Without even skipping a beat he points to himself and says "mwen Dandann" (I'm Dandann). He's so funny. A little bit later, MacKendy was sitting next to me and found a brightly colored baby hat. He put it on his head and asked if he could have it. I told him he could wear it for now, and his face lit up. He never took it off after that, even wearing it to bed. MacKendy and I get along so well because we are very similar people. He's one of the quieter kids, and usually gets pushed into the background by the more outgoing and loud ones. He's so sweet, so peaceful, and is ridiculously smart. His eyes are so big and full of love, and you feel like you can look right into his soul. Johnna said he was asking for me before I got there, and when I went to say goodbye to him he wouldn't let me hug him at first because he didn't want me to leave.
We sang a song in night prayer that I had never heard before. It goes something like this: "Jesus, I adore You in the children, I adore You in the clouds, I adore You in the rivers, I adore You in the mountains, I adore You in the stars, I adore You in the church.." and keeps going, listing the things we can adore Jesus through. It was so fitting for our trip. Every night there was a thunderstorm, and you could see the lightening coming over the mountains while patches of brilliant stars still shone through. I would lay up on the roof on my back and just stay there, in awe of God's creation. The rain thundered down loud enough to wake us up at night. We bathed in the river one night as a storm was approaching. It was so dark that we could hardly see our hands in front of our face, until lightening lit up the sky like daylight. It was like God giving us His flashlight. It started to rain just as we were getting out, and soon we were wetter standing out in the pouring rain that we had been in the river. We got back to the orphanage and a small group of people was sitting on the porch, with Alexi playing guitar. The group of us stood out in the rain and danced to the music while everyone laughed at us inside. Alexi taught us a song that said "don't forget what Jesus is doing for you." He did so much for all of us that night.
Every morning we would gather on the roof to read the Gospel for the day and meditate on it, connecting it to our experiences on the trip. On one of the last mornings, the Gospel was a very obscure and confusing passage so I decided to read the meditation in the Magnificat instead. It was so providential, because it was an excerpt of St. Benedicta of the Cross and absolutely perfect for our trip. She talks about the suffering in the world, and how we want to help every widow, orphan, poor person, etc. This is impossible on our own. But Christ can be everywhere, and by uniting our sufferings to Him at the foot of the Cross we can bring graces to anyone in the world. So even though we could not physically stop and help every single person in Port Au Prince, through offering up our sufferings and through prayer and sacrifice we can help all of them through the Body of Christ. It was such an answer to our prayers and brought so much peace to our minds and hearts.
With this in mind, driving back through the city on the way home was not as full of despair. But Joe decided to take some back roads in order to avoid traffic and took us through parts of the city that I've never seen before. It was an area that had been hit very hard by the quake, and on either side of the road buildings were still collapsed. It was like passing through a cemetary, each building a gravestone of the bodies still buried inside. The most powerful moment was when we drove right past the national cathedral. I had seen so many pictures of it on the news but this was the first time I had seen it up close in person. It looks like an empty shell, with the middle part completely collapsed. The outer walls with stained glass windows still stand like memorials of its former glory and beauty. Outside on one corner is the now-famous crucifix statue that is still standing amongst all the rubble. Even though the cathedral, an outer symbol of Catholocism, is lying in ruin, the faith of the Haitians is still strong. The Church in Haiti is living as Christ crucified. They are clinging to the Cross, trusting that God is with them more now than ever. Through their sufferings they are attaining great graces for the rest of the world that we will never realize. Through our own sufferings united to the Cross, we can attain graces for them in return. Port Au Prince is broken, just as Christ hung broken on the Cross. But there is always hope in the Resurrection, in the glory of the Kingdom to come. We saw a glimpse of this glory out in the village, in the orphans who now radiate joyful smiles thanks to the healing powers of love.
M' adore ou Jezi. I adore you Jesus!
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Being Still
"Be still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10
This Bible passage has really been on my mind lately. There are so many ways to interpret it. But in relation to my own life, I think it's meant to teach me to stay in the present moment. I spend so much time worrying about the future or analyzing the past that I often forget about the present. I need to be still, and trust that God will take care of everything.
I should be still in more silent prayer throughout the day instead of constantly rushing around to the next thing. It is in the silence of our hearts that God talks to us and sustains us. It's in this silence that I find true peace. It is also in this silence where God teaches us about Himself and where divine wisdom is communicated.
I should be still in my present surroundings instead of wishing I was somewhere else. Out at school last semester I was spending a lot of time wishing I was in Haiti. I was so impatient to get there, and spent so much time thinking about it, that I missed out on a lot of opportunities at school that God put right in front of my face. God's plan is always perfect and He puts us in certain places at certain times for a reason. I need to trust that and keep my eyes are heart open to the ways God wants me to grow and to serve Him in the present moment. I won't be able to effectively serve in the places God will send me in the future if I don't learn what He's trying to teach me in the present.
I should be still in my anxieties about my future vocation. I spend so much time worrying about the future- whether I'm called to be a missionary, religious sister, wife and mother, or consecrated lay person. I need to learn to live with the question and trust that there's a reason why God isn't telling me right now. Maybe He knows I wouldn't be able to handle the answer. This period of uncertainty is also a way for me to grow so much in trust and patience and humility.
Lord, help me to be still and know that You are God.
This Bible passage has really been on my mind lately. There are so many ways to interpret it. But in relation to my own life, I think it's meant to teach me to stay in the present moment. I spend so much time worrying about the future or analyzing the past that I often forget about the present. I need to be still, and trust that God will take care of everything.
I should be still in more silent prayer throughout the day instead of constantly rushing around to the next thing. It is in the silence of our hearts that God talks to us and sustains us. It's in this silence that I find true peace. It is also in this silence where God teaches us about Himself and where divine wisdom is communicated.
I should be still in my present surroundings instead of wishing I was somewhere else. Out at school last semester I was spending a lot of time wishing I was in Haiti. I was so impatient to get there, and spent so much time thinking about it, that I missed out on a lot of opportunities at school that God put right in front of my face. God's plan is always perfect and He puts us in certain places at certain times for a reason. I need to trust that and keep my eyes are heart open to the ways God wants me to grow and to serve Him in the present moment. I won't be able to effectively serve in the places God will send me in the future if I don't learn what He's trying to teach me in the present.
I should be still in my anxieties about my future vocation. I spend so much time worrying about the future- whether I'm called to be a missionary, religious sister, wife and mother, or consecrated lay person. I need to learn to live with the question and trust that there's a reason why God isn't telling me right now. Maybe He knows I wouldn't be able to handle the answer. This period of uncertainty is also a way for me to grow so much in trust and patience and humility.
Lord, help me to be still and know that You are God.
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