Pentecost Sunday

Today we celebrate the feast of Pentecost, when God breathed the Holy Spirit onto the 12 Apostles after the Resurrection of Jesus. They received Him and their minds were illuminated with the Truth, their hearts set ablaze with passion and zeal. It was a huge turning point for them- they had just witnessed their Messiah tortured and killed in the cruelest way possible, and then rise again 3 days later. They must have been so confused and scared. Jesus had told them about the Holy Spirit, but I'm sure they still had questions. Then, after praying fervently for days, they finally received the Holy Spirit like never before. They began to know Him, as a distinct member of the Trinity. They were finally given the key to understanding everything that had just happened. It was like the light bulb went off in their brains- they immediately started praising God, speaking in tongues, and going out and evangelizing to the nations.

What a feast.

For a Franciscan student, it's just as big as Easter and Christmas. We are known for living in the Spirit in a particular way. Infamous, maybe. Our campus lives and breathes devotion to the Holy Spirit. Which is why I thought today would be the perfect day to talk about how I fell in love with the Holy Spirit in Austria. :)

This is mostly in thanks to Father Brad, the Franciscan TOR priest on campus who showed me the Holy Spirit in a completely new way. He's a person, the 3rd person of the Trinity. He's not just a formless ball of fog floating around.. He's God. And he wants to dwell in our hearts so badly. Once we let him in and give our lives over to His will, amazing things can happen.

In Scripture, there are two different baptisms talked about. There is the first obvious one, when we are baptized with water to cleanse us of Original Sin and bring us back into union with the Father. The second baptism, which many Catholics don't know about, is baptism by the Spirit. It's like our own personal Pentecost, when the Spirit comes down upon us in such a powerful way that we are made new. Our lives are changed. And we receive gifts that previously could not be unlocked. I was blessed to receive this second baptism the 2nd week I was in Austria, at a prayer group meeting. I felt the love of God surround me with a power and strength I had never felt before. I literally felt wrapped in a coccoon of love, of safety. Everything throughout my body was burning with a warm heat, and my heart was in a state of awe and wonder and the sheer Goodness and Beauty it was witnessing. I will always remember this moment. It completely changed the way I pray and look at God. He's not a far off judge who sits there waiting to condemn you- He is Love. He is Beauty. He is Peace. He is Mercy. He longs for you every single moment of every single day, waiting for you to come to Him and give your life to Him in love.

As the semester went on, I continued to grow deeper in my knowledge and love of the Spirit. I learned a lot about healing and suffering. God loves to heal. I've seen it before my very eyes. I've had it happen to me- both physical and emotional. I've seen backs, shoulders, necks, legs, and most importantly, hearts healed. It's not magic. It's not some special formula you say. It's God. God loves to heal. God loves to make things new. The important thing is that your heart needs to be open to receive it. Many times, a person will not receive a healing God wants to give them if their hearts are hardened with unforgiveness, bitterness, pain, jealousy, or pride. If you think God can't heal your heart, that's a form of pride. It's telling the omnipotent, all-powerful God that he isn't capable of healing your wounds. Think about it.

This is how Christianity was meant to be lived- in the Spirit. Does that mean that you're not a good Christian if you don't run around yelling in tongues and healing people left and right? Of course not. Then you'd just be crazy. But every Christian is called to have a relationship with the Spirit, whether it's a more charismatic relationship or a private inner one. It makes our souls and our religion come alive. Catholocism is alive and breathing. It's not simply an empty ritual of going to Church every Sunday, going to the Sacraments, and praying monotonously the Rosary. These things are absolutely necessary, but should be done with a spirit of life to it. The Mass is a partcipation. It's a marriage feast between Heaven and Earth, when the God of Love comes to meet you in the most intimate way possible. Prayer is communication with God- it means you have a conversation. It's not just rattling off prayers without spending the time to listen to the answer.

Come Holy Spirit, let the fire fall <3

Angels, a pilgrimage, and car named Bandit

The weekend before our 10 day pilgrimage to Rome and Assisi that the school took us on, I went on an Angels pilgrimage. No, not to see angels.. I was on a pilgrimage with angels. Members of Regina Angelorum, to be exact.

At Franciscan University, there is a famous thing called households. Everyone attemps to describe them as a Catholic version of a fraternity or sororiety, but they are so much more than that. They are groups on campus of around 10-40 men or women, and each have a special charism. The household meets at various times each week, to say a Rosary together, go to Mass, get a meal in the cafeteria, have a Holy Hour, or share things we're both thankful for and struggling with. These activities are custom to each household's particular spirituality and covanent. To join the household, you "intent" and spend a period of time in formation before you are inducted. The household that I intented to last semester is called Regina Angelorum (Mary, Queen of the Angels in Latin). We are devoted to Mary and the angels, especially St. Michael the Archangel, in order to aid us in our spiritual battles in life and "fight the good fight of faith" to reach eternal life with Jesus Christ. We focus on imitating Our Mother in every aspect of our lives in order to grow closer to Jesus, and especially on the spiritual warfare between good and evil. The sisters who are already inducted are called Angels.

I am still an intent to this beautiful household. This semester in Austria, we had one Angel and 3 intents total. All 4 of us got along amazingly well, and decided to take a pilgrimage together during the semester to some important places in Italy. This mini-weekend before the Rome and Assisi trip was a perfect opportunity! We decided to take an overnight train to Rome, rent a car and drive to the other side of the penninsula where all of the shrines were, and then drive back to Rome in enough time to meet the school at our hotel. Getting to actually drive a car and not have to rely on the train schedules was an amazing freedom and made our trip so much better!

We arrived early Friday morning in Rome and picked up Bandit- a silver 4-door Fiat Panda. He's named after the panda in Kung Fu Panda, thanks to Katie :) We all piled in, and started our adventure of getting out of Rome. The Romans (and all of Europe, for that matter) aren't big lovers of street signs. If there are any, they're up on the side of a building, not down on the street where they're easy to see. So that made reading a map and print-off directions extremely hard because we had to make split-second decisions. If we hesitated, we'd either get hit by a crazy moped driver or a pissed off car. After 2 hours of many wrong turns and many turn-arounds, we finally made it onto the highway leading out of the city.

It took us another 5 hours to make it to our first destination, because of the lack of good directions. Although we were tired and frustrated, we still had a spirit of joy. Miraculously, I didn't get carsick once. For those of you who have ever driven with me, you know how much of a miracle this is. I was reading directions the whole time, and never even got a hint of nausea as we were stopping and going and swerving through the city. It's a special grace I got from God that day :) The drive across the penninsula was breathtaking- we were literally driving through mountains. The highway winds around the peaks, elevated way above the valleys below.

Our first stop was the small Italian town of Lanciano. A Eucharistic miracle took place here in the Middle Ages, and is still visible today. I have a special devotion to the miracle of Lanciano, so to actually be there was breathtaking. As a priest was consecrating the host back in the early Middle Ages, he was doubtful of the real presence. To his amazement, the bread turned into real flesh and the wine turned into real blood! There have been multiple modern scientific tests done on the actual flesh and blood, which are still present today without any form of preservation. The flesh was found to be myocardial tissue from a human heart, and the blood (which is now in 3 clots) was found to have the same blood type as the blood stain found on the Shroud of Turin (Jesus' burial shroud). How amazing! Jesus literally gives us his heart and his blood every time we receive the Eucharist. He offers Himself up as a sacrifice of love in order that we may have divine life within us. When we receive Him, our hearts and His heart are united in a very unique and special way. To those who don't believe in the Real Presence of the Eucharist, I ask you how much more proof do you need than this particular miracle?

The special monstrance that holds the flesh and blood is up behind the main altar of the church. After Mass, we went up to venerate it. I was so close to it that I could touch the glass casing around it. A burning heat went through my entire body, and my heart started beating. The love I felt washing over me was incredible. We knelt on the floor and just gazed up at the monstrance- literally gazing upon the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Precious Blood. Chills go through my spine even now as I think about it. The 4 of us ended up being able to spend almost an hour in Adoration! Praise Jesus :)

We then continued on our journey to San Giovanni Rotundo, which is where St. Padre Pio lived as a priest and where his body is. It was a much easier drive, but as night fell and we pulled into our hotel parking lot, we were absolutely exhausted on every level. The next morning we got up for Mass and went to the monastary church where Padre Pio said Mass and heard confessions. His confessional, which was his particular ministry, is still intact in a glass case up against the wall. Satan appeared to him at least once in this confessional, where he fought a spiritual battle every day to save souls.

After spending the morning in San Giovanni, we drove a very short distance to Monte San'Angelo. The entire town is built on top of a mountain, with spectacular views of the landscape below. There is a cave in this village where St. Michael the Archangel appeared in the Middle Ages. He asked that a church be built in the cave, and consecrated it once it was completed. It is therefore the only church in the world not consecrated by a human bishop. It is such an impressive sight- the basillica is literally built around the walls of the cave. This was the climax of our pilgrimage, since our household has such a strong devotion to St. Michael. There is an Adoration chapel as well down there, and we were able to pray the St. Michael Chaplet and the consecration prayer to St. Michael together as a household. It was absolutely beautiful. The rock from the cave is traditionally thought to be the closest thing to a relic of St. Michael we have, since his presence graced those walls. To pray and touch the rock was such a powerful experience!

After a crazy 2 days of no sleep and lots of driving, it was time to head back to Rome. Katie was such a trooper and did all of the driving, since she was the only one out of all of us to know how to drive stick. She also had to put up with me trying to figure out the directions, which would have driven anyone crazy. I'm so blessed to have this girls as my sisters :) We made it back to Rome and got to the hotel, to start another crazy 10 days of pilgrimage. But it was all so worth it :)

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle!
Our Lady, Queen of the Angels, pray for us!
Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us.

Carnevale

Venice! The city of lovers. It's also the city of canals, gondollas, gelato, and Carnivale. And, the city where I got to celebrate my 21st birthday! Venice is my favorite city in Italy, and I was so excited to get to spend a day there with my closest friends just relaxing and enjoying Italy. I had been to Italy before with my family, but this was the first trip here during my semester. The sound of the Italian language, the smells coming from the restaurants and cafes, and the sun gleaming off of the canal water made my heart burst with joy as we walked out of the train station. Italia!

We realized very quickly that Carnivale was happening that weekend, which we had no idea about! It was a nice surprise, to come on a weekend with so many festivities going on. Many people were wearing the beautiful masks in every shape, size, and color. Some people were even wearing full-length costumes. There was an atmosphere of celebration on every corner.

Venice came at such a perfect time in the semester. We had been working hard at our studies for almost 2 months, were preparing for midterms, and were under a lot of stress. Not to mention the intense emotional stress of Poland we were still processing, and the physical exhaustion of traveling every weekend that had begun to catch up with us. We needed a break. And, although we had to take an overnight train there and an overnight train back due to the short weekend, we got just that. We just wandered around the city, doing what the Italians know how to do best- sit, eat, and enjoy life. We didn't have an itinerary, didn't have a tight train schedule, didn't have to rush. It was a beautiful birthday present!

We basically took the whole day to walk from the train station to St. Mark's Square and back, a pretty long distance that took us the whole length of the city. We got gelato (more than once..), took a gondolla ride, and had a dance party to Stereo Love on a tiny random bridge that no one else was on. We got to St. Mark's Square, which was absolutely packed, in time to see a Carnivale performance. There was confetti everywhere, on the sidewalks and in the water! It was magical.

Of course, we didn't pass up the opportunity to see the churches of two great saints, one quite well-known and the other more obscure- St. Mark and St. Lucy. St. Lucy's incorrupt body is in a church by the train station. She is the patron sight of vision, since her eyes were plucked out by the Romans as she was being martyred in the Early Church. She was our age, if not younger, and was given the courage by God to stand up for her faith, even to the death. Her body is different from most, for there is no wax covering her hands or feet, which are about halfway decayed. It is proof that these saints really are incorrupt- that it's not just a bunch of fools putting a wax figure in a glass case and calling it an incorrupt body. I could see her skin and her bones, right in front of me. A young woman who died in the 300s. Now that's miraculous. We also saw St. Mark's tomb in the main cathedral of Venice dedicated to him. He is the man who wrote the Gospel according to Mark, and was a great witness to Christ. The cathedral is absolutely gorgeous both inside and out, with gold everywhere.

My last birthday present of the day was from Jesus Himself, in the adoration chapel of the cathedral. We went in to pray in front of the Blessed Sacrament for a few moments, and ended up being there for Benediction. This is a series of prayers honoring the Blessed Sacrament, and ends with the priest holding up the monstrance containing the Blessed Sacrament and making the sign of the cross with it, blessing all of us present in front of it. It's basically Jesus blessing us as if He was standing right in front of us, because He is present body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist. So He gave me a special birthday blessing to end a perfect day :)

Love will always triumph- Poland.

Poland. Such a powerful and moving place. The school took us on a pilgrimage there in the middle of February, when the sky was grey and the ground was covered in snow. A cold wind cut through your skin the minute you stepped outside. It sounds like a cold and barren place, but in fact is vibrant with the love of God and hope in His salvation. Poland has seen more terror and bloodshed than almost any other country in Europe, especially during WWII and the era of Communism. Yet, out of the ashes of evil God has raised some of the most important saints of our time. Professor Cassidy told us before we left that if you take a handful of Polish soil in your hand and squeeze it, the blood of martyrs comes out. The ground is still figuratively saturated with their blood. In Poland we saw the worst of humanity and the best of humanity, the worst evil and the greatest love, all within 50 miles of each other. It's amazing how God works like that.

Poland was one of the most life-changing trips of the semester for me. I felt so solemn in the presence of memories of such violence and suffering, but I also felt such hope and joy in the power of God's love. The person who helped me see this the most was JPII. We watched a movie about his life on the long bus ride to Poland, and it set the tone for the entire trip. He saw so much evil right before his eyes during WWII, yet he continued to love and became one of the greatest human voices on love and human dignity. It's all about love. Love will always win in the end, because God is Love. And God wins. Evil will devour itself, yet to keep it from happening again we must win with love. We must conquer evil through love. No wonder why JPII was so passionate about love and the dignity of the human person, because he had it destroyed right in front of him. He is a living witness to the fact that man can always choose to love, no matter what evil you are faced with. That is our greatest freedom as human persons. It is our salvation, our purpose, and our meaning. We are called to love. This revelation helped us get through the trip.

Our first stop was at the shrine of Our Lady of Czestohowa (Chest-a-hova). This image of Our Lady is one of the oldest we have of her, believed to be painted by St. Luke on a piece of wood that Jesus used during His life. Many miracles have happened through this image- both to individual people and to the nation of Poland as a whole. Our Lady of Czestohowa is consecrated as the patron saint and Queen of Poland. Polish pilgrims have gone to her for centuries, pleading at her feet to save their country from destruction. JPII was one such pilgrim during the dark days of WWII. After the failed assasination attempt on his life in the 80s, he gave the Shrine the stohl that he was wearing on the day he was shot with a spot of blood on it, in honor of Our Lady and all of the ways that she had protected him throughout his life. Her most important feature, however, are 3 haggard scratches down the side of her cheek. These arrow and sword slashes were put there a few centuries ago by soldiers attacking the Shrine trying to destroy the image. Artists have done everything they can to cover these markings and "fix" her face, but each time they have miraculously come back. We talked about her in my Theology of Healing class last semester, how through these scratches she wants to show that there is beauty and meaning in brokenness, woundedness, and suffering. That God will always bring something greater out of this suffering. How perfect then, that she resides in Poland! Their entire history as a country is based on Our Lady's intercession, and they base their strong national identity around her.

Our Lady of Czestohowa is absolutely beautiful. Her gaze was so peaceful, so accepting of God's will to suffer with her Son for the sake of the Kingdom. I felt so out of place there, like I wasn't worthy enough to stand in a place where so many people have prayed fervently for their nation, people who have endured more suffering and pain that I can ever imagine. I could feel a sense of urgency in Czestohowa, which must have been in the hearts of so many Polish pilgrims as they came to pray in the midst of war. However, there was a safety here. This was the safe zone for them. We were lucky enough to have Mass right under the image, and during Communion I felt this burning go through my heart; to LOVE! Jesus and Mary told me very powerfully in my heart to always love. That love will always win out in the end. That I should always try to bring Christ's love to others. Never give up on love. This was a little present to help me get through Auschwitz and Birkenau, which was our next stop.

Auschwitz and Birkenau were very powerful places. I was scared to go in, to subject myself to that evil. I've learned about these places in school for so long, and it's always seemed like such an untouchable place of horror. So to actually be walking through the gate was surreal. I imagined the SS guards and the prisoners and the overall sense of dread- all of that is gone now, with only hallowed buildings as reminders. The sky was grey with low-lying clouds, creating an even more somber atmosphere. You could feel the oppressive evil and hatred pushing down on your heart as you walked through the buildings. Yet, at the same time, there were lights in the darkness. St. Maximillian Kolbe's cell was one such light. It was breathtaking, actually, to picture such a joyful and holy man in such a tiny ugly cell. His cell was literally in a dungeon, where prisoners sentenced to death by starvation were sent. For those who don't know his story, Fr. Kolbe was a Franciscan priest who was sent to Auchwitz. One day, a man in his barracks was sentenced to death by starvation. This man started crying, pleading with the guards to let him live because he had a wife and children that he needed to live for. Fr. Kolbe was deeply moved by this, and freely decided to sacrifice himself and stand in this man's place so that he may live. He lived for over two weeks in the starvation chamber without any food or water, and eventually had to be given a lethal injection. From eyewitness accounts, he was radiating light, peace, and joy until the very end. He had completely given his life over to Christ was was a martyr of love.

Birkenau had the famous train tracks leading right into the camp. There were barracks everywhere as far as the eye could see. We prayed a Divine Mercy chaplet as a group by the gas chambers. We sang the last decade and it was so beautiful, so peaceful- just what this place needed to soak up. The gas chambers were horrible. You could see scratch marks on the walls where clawed in panic as they were dying. There was a deadbolt on the door as we walked in. It made me sick. It was such a dark dungeon. However, I felt God's presence with me the most in that chamber. He brought so many people home to Heaven in that place. I walked the same path as millions of women, children, handicapped, and elderly did on the way to their deaths. Yet I did something none of them did- walk back out of the gas chamber alive. I get to live. I can feel their envy in a sense. I am free. I can walk out. The children affected me the most- seeing their shoes, clothes, and pictures. So many of them were killed. I felt them calling out to me, telling me to live for them because they never got the chance. To live and spread God's love into the cold evil world that killed them. That's how I can honor them. By living, but more importantly by loving.

The last few days were a lot lighter emotionally. We toured around Krakow and saw the cathedral where JPII was archbishop, where he lived, and where he studied at the university. Krakow is such an old city full of history- it was the only major city in Poland never to be bombed in WWII, and therefore is precious preservation of Polish culture. There are churches on literally every single corner- Krakow is called the Little Rome. I think that's why I felt so peaceful there, because Jesus was everywhere! We had Mass in the cathedral, at the same altar where JPII celebrated Mass. It was a Latin Mass, which so beautifully showed us the universality of the Church. We spoke English, the priest spoke Polish, yet we could communicate and pray together in Latin- the language of the Church.

We got to visit the Divine Mercy shrine, which is the convent where Sr. Faustina lived and received the Divine Mercy messages from Jesus. We said the Divine Mercy chaplet with the sisters in the convent chapel at 3pm- the hour of Mercy. The chapel is where Jesus appeared to Sr. Faustina many times, and is where her relics are. We got to venerate her relics and just soak in the mercy and love that was pouring out of this place. It's amazing how the Divine Mercy message was given right before WWII in Poland. Jesus told us that we must always forgive. Our Lady of Fatima warned of the World Wars too, saying we could avoid them if we repented and began to love one another. Heaven gave us so many signs to avoid these wars, but we did not choose to listen. Instead, we chose hate. However, this mercy is always available if we repent. Mercy is a form of love. It's how God shows His love towards creation, towards humanity. So this shrine is not just a shrine of mercy, but of LOVE! Jesus gave us His blood and water on the Cross out of burning love for us, to heal us, cleanse us, and bring us into union with the Father. So this shrine makes even more sense that it's in Poland, because it bears testimony to God's unfailing love for us even in the midst of suffering. God never leaves us. Love always conquers.

The last place we got to visit was JPII's hometown in Wadowice. The town itself is very barren and industrial- like most towns in Poland affected by Communism. However, there is a beautiful church that looms above the rest of the buildings. It was so awesome to see the church he grew up going to. He spent most of his childhood in this church, praying in front of the huge Our Lady of Perpetual Help portrait in a side chapel. My jaw dropped when I saw it, because she is the patron saint of Haiti and very close to my heart. I smiled to think that JPII had a similar devotion to her, and that it was in front of her image that he first heard the whisperings of the call to the priesthood. I spent a lot of time praying in front of her image like he did, praying for whatever my vocation is in life. There were about 100 school children in the church singing before Mass, something that would have given JPII great joy.

We all had heavy hearts as we left Poland- it was such a life-changing place for us all and many experienced significant conversion in their hearts. Praise God! This concept of love and its strength in the face of evil completely changed my perspective and set my heart on fire! No matter what suffering we go through, we can always choose love. We all have that dignity and that freedom. Love is stronger than death. Christ proved that on the Cross.

The fact that Blessed John Paul II, St. Faustina, and St. Maximillian Kolbe all rose up out of the same region in Poland within 50 years of each other and during the horrors of WWII is no coincidence. It's grace. It's God fulfilling His promise to us, that out of the ashes of suffering He will bring good. He will conquer evil and use it to bring people closer to Him. All of this, of course, was done with the intercession of Our Lady of Czestohowa, who keeps the people of Poland close to her heart always.

Notre Dame- the real one.

The second weekend of free travel 3 of my friends and I decided to take a crazy adventure to France. It included spending more time on trains than in the actual places we visited, and a lot of stress, but in the end it was totally worth it. In the span of 72 hours we saw 2 Marian apparition sites, 3 incorrupt bodies of saints, and a certain tower in Paris that sparkles at night :)

Our adventure started with taking our first overnight train to Paris on Thursday afternoon right after our last class ended. By train I mean 5. After a long night of uncomfortable seats and no sleep, we arrived in Paris later that we expected. It gave us barely enough time to go to the ticket counter, reserve the rest of our tickets, and then catch our train to Lisieux. The French train system is very annoying and demands that you have a reservation for each train, even if you already have a Eurail pass. By the time we got our tickets, we only had 15 minutes to catch our train to Lisieux that left from a train station on the opposite side of the city. We ran down to the metro, but my debit card didn't work in the machine and we didn't have the right amount of cash. Time was ticking at an incredibly fast pace, when from behind us we hear a man ask in English if we need help. He was like an angel sent from above. I told him our situation, and asked if he could put our tickets on his credit card and we would give him the cash for it. He hesitated for a minute, but I think the panicked look on our faces moved something in him to help us. He got our tickets, and after thanking him over and over we ran down to the subway. We got to the train station with minutes to spare, and ran from track to track looking for our train. When I say ran, I mean it. Sprinting through the train station with our big backpacks. We finally found our train just as it was about to leave and hopped on at the last second.

As I flung my stuff down on a seat and caught my breath, I thanked Mary and St. Therese for helping us. I had been frantically praying to them the whole time, asking for their intercession. We were going to see St. Therese of Lisieux, one of my favorite saints, and I kept asking her to help us get on the train. The man who helped us at the subway ticket machine came back into my mind. I have no doubt that St. Therese put him in our path for a reason. She was all about finding holiness in the little things, and showing charity to every single person that you meet. He gained more holiness, whether he knew it or not, through his act of charity. Without us being there, that opportunity wouldn't have happened. So, although it was stressful, I thanked God for everything.

It was a quick train ride to Lisieux, and when we got there the sun had broken through the clouds to greet us. We could see the big basilica from the train station, and walked right over to it. It was built to honor St. Therese, and is massive in size. It's very beautiful, but I wonder if she's looking down from heaven and shaking her head, asking if we learned anything from her. She loved everything small and simple, and here was this grandiose basilica built in her honor. Hmm. We then walked over to the Carmel convent chapel, where her body is. I was so excited and nervous at the same time- she was going to be the first incorrupt body I have ever seen. We walked in, and a feeling of peace washed over me instantly. She lies in this glass case, sort of like Snow White, except much more beautiful. She is wearing her habit, and all of her skin is covered in a wax covering. This means that her body isn't completely preserved but that the process of decay is slowed down to a miraculous pace. Many of the other incorrupt saints are like this as well. I just knelt in front of her body, completely in awe. I had read her Story of a Soul only a year or so ago, so it was fresh in my mind. Everything that she talks about was sitting right in front of me- the convent, the garden, even the statue of Mary that miraculously healed her as a child. I felt her presence in such a powerful way. The sisters even started singing midday prayer in the chapel while we were there. I wish I could have stayed there for hours, but we had to catch our train back. The way the schedules were, we could only stay in Lisieux for about 2 hours in order to make our next train to Lourdes. While 2 hours is an incredibly short time to be in Lisieux, it was enough for us to see St. Therese and have her bless us with peace and love. I could feel the love pouring out of her body still, radiating like a warm lamp. Everything she did was out of love, for love.

The next leg of our journey was to travel back to Paris to catch a train to Lourdes. This train left out of the southern part of the city, so we decided to walk there in order to see some of Paris. It was a beautiful walk, but we didn't give ourselves enough time and ended up having to run again. This time we ran the last mile to the train station. Running on the sidewalks, maneuvering around people, on a gradual uphill. It was brutal. I started praying to Mary again. We made it to the train station with about 5 minutes until our train left. However, there were two different buildings, one on each side of the street. We went into one and it ended up being the wrong one. By this time we only had about 2 minutes, so we sprinted across the street, down the stairs, and into the huge train station. We eventually found our train, but realized that it was two different trains linked together, each going in separate ways once we left the train station. Apparently they do that a lot in Europe. So, we had to sprint down the length of the train (it was a very long train) to get to the right car. The train should have left already, but the conductors must have seen us and held the train (something they don't usually do). As we were sprinting, people were looking out the windows and standing in the doorways, some yelling "go, go, go!" It was sort of embarassing, but hilarious at the same time. We jumped on the right train just in time. I thanked Mary again, in disbelief that we actually made it. There was no way that we should have. The French trains are very particular about leaving on time, and this one had left about 5 minutes late, just enough time for us to get there. I knew it was through Mary's intercession, since if we missed this one there was no way we would make it to Lourdes at all that weekend.

We got to Lourdes around 11:30pm on Friday, February 11th- the feast day of Our Lady of Lourdes :) I thanked her that we at least got to spend a half hour of her feast day in the actual place where she appeared. It was a miracle we had made it, after two days of travelling and no sleep. We walked straight from the train to the grotto, and knelt down in exhaustion and complete peace. It was like all of the stress from the last two days completely melted at her feet. It was one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen- there were candles everywhere from the procession they had had that night, which lit up the face of her statue with a warm glow. The grotto is so peaceful and natural, which I liked so much better than being in a big, loud distracting church. We prayed there for a while, and then walked back to our hostel around 1am to get a few hours of precious sleep before we had to wake up early again. We got up early to beat the crowds to the baths, since we had to leave that afternoon to take the train back to Paris. As with everything in life, the women's line was much longer than the men's line even at 8am in the morning. Katherine and I waited for a good 2 hours to make it into the baths, while Jose and Nathan were in and out before we even made it inside.

The baths at Lourdes are an incredible and life-changing experience. For those who don't know, the water in Lourdes comes from an underground spring that Our Lady revealed to St. Bernadette during her apparitions. It has special healing graces in it, and many people have been miraculously healed at Lourdes through Our Lady's intercession. They have indoor baths, called the piscines, where you can be dunked into the water and pray for any type of healing (physical, emotional, psychological, etc.) It's not magical water- healings don't happen 100% of the time. It's more the prayer that's in the heart of the pilgrim that brings about the healing, and their openness to God's work in their lives. There is so much respect for the dignity of each person who comes into the piscenes. I felt Mary's presence more in the women who helped me than in the water itself. They are so motherly, so tender, so caring to people who are complete strangers to them. They help you by holding up a sheet while you take off your clothes and put on a big robe made out of thin cloth. There are then more women inside the bath itself, who pray with you and help you into the water. There is one women who leads the prayer, and the woman I had happened to speak English. She was probably in her late 30s and very soothing. She asked me to pray to Mary for my intention, and wrapped her arms around me from behind like a mother and held her hands on my heart while I prayed. I felt like it was Mary herself holding me. They then led me into the water, which is FREEZING cold, especially in the middle of winter! I was kind of in shock from the cold as they helped me up, but I managed a smile through my blue chattering lips and thanked them from the bottom of my heart. I changed back into my clothes and went right back outside to the grotto. I prayed a Rosary and thanked Mary for her intercession at the feet of Jesus. Although Lourdes seems to be all about Mary, it really is all about Jesus because all of her graces come from Him. I felt His peace through her. We eventually had to leave to catch our train- but Mary gave us a special grace by not having to run this time! We all didn't want to leave, but got on the train back to Paris.

We arrived in Paris late Saturday night and walked to our hostel. It was right near the Eiffel tower, so we stopped there on the way to look at it. It sparkles at night!! It was beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as the peace we had just experienced in Lourdes. However, we took our funny tourist pictures by the tower and then called it a night. We were planning on spending the entire day in Paris on Sunday, since we hadn't really explored the city yet, but found out in the morning that the only train we could get a reservation on was leaving at 11am. It took a lot to surrender this to God, but it ended up working out for His glory. We were able to go to Mass in the morning before we left, at the shrine of the Miraculous Medal. It's the place where Our Lady appeared to St. Catherine Laboray and gave her the miraculous medal and its promises. St. Catherine's body is there, along with St. Louise. It's a very pretty church, and Mass in French was beautiful. I'm almost positive that the priest we had was Haitian, because he was black and his French was very choppy, not smooth and flowy like a native French speaker. He could have been African as well, but something in my gut told me that he was Haitian and that this was another sign from God that my vocation is in Haiti. We spent some time after Mass praying in front of St. Catherine Laboray's body, which I'm pretty sure didn't have any wax covering. She looked like she was just sleeping peacefully.

We then went to the train station and started our long journey back to Austria. Because of the train situation, we had a 5 hour layover in Munich on Sunday night. Luckily, anywhere in the world a McDonalds is always open, so we hung out there for most of it. We had an actual sleeper car on the way back, meaning real beds! It was so nice, after pretty much not sleeping for the last 3 days. We got back to Gaming at 8:15 in the morning on Monday, right in time for class. I'm not really sure how I made it through the day since I was so tired, but it was totally worth everything. Mama helped us on each step of the way and gave us the graces we needed to make it through. I learned how long a human body can survive without a real meal. We ate bread and Nutella for most of the trip, having one dinner at McDonalds in Paris and a crepe in Lourdes. I decided I wasn't leaving France without having a croissant, so luckily I found one in the train station just before we left.

The trip was the most stressful one during the whole semester, but we got the fame back on campus of being one of the only group of students ever to do that trip in just a weekend. It was challenging, but it strengthened my trust in God and my complete surrender to Him in every situation. We never got to see the church of Notre Dame in Paris, but we definitely spent time with the real Notre Dame, both in Lourdes and along every step of our journey.

London Calling

Our first free weekend to travel was in the beginning of February. A group of my friends decided to go to London, since the flights were cheap and it was somewhere we had always wanted to go. I wasn't planning on it being a religious experience, since it was a secular place we were going. Yet, God always works in funny ways.

Since it was our first time traveling on our own without the help of the school, we were all a little nervous. We had to take the bus from our school to the train station, then 3 different trains to get to Salzburg, then a bus from the train station to the airport, and then fly to London. Although we had a lot of quick connections, we were able to make it to Salzburg no problem. Phew. We decided we were going to sleep in the airport, since our flight was really early the next morning and we didn't want to pay for a hostel. We found the bus no problem to get to the airport, and by the time it dropped us off it was around 11:30pm. We were surprised at how small the airport was, and how deserted it seemed. Don't airports usually stay open all night? We walked up to one of the sliding doors and it didn't move. Ut-oh. We tried another one and it didn't move either. There was no one inside and all of the lights seemed dimmed. The airport must have been closed! Here we were, in the middle of the night, in the outskirts of the city with nowhere to sleep.

We saw a sign for a hotel next to the airport, so we walked over thinking we had found our solution. But the door was locked and there was no one at the reception desk. As some of us started to freak out, we said a prayer of protection and guidance. We knew there were benches outside of the airport doors, and although it was a cold night in the middle of winter we began to accept the fact that we would be sleeping outside. We made each other feel better by saying that it would only be for a few hours, that we could huddle together, and that it would be a good way to really experience how homeless people live in order to get a greater appreciation for those things we take for granted every day. We trusted in God and gave the night to Him and His will. If it was His will for us to sleep outside, then so be it.

We walked over to the benches which were outside of the main doors of the airport. To our surprise, we checked the doors one more time and they opened!!! We all stood there stunned for a moment. We hurried inside praising God with smiles of disbelief on our faces. We realized that the doors we had been trying earlier were off to the side, that they must close those and only keep the main doors in the middle open. But God wanted it to be that way. He wanted to break us down, to have to give everything to Him and trust completely in Him, before He could bring us into the airport. It was an important lesson we needed to learn at the start of our semester before we started traveling the globe. I'm so glad it happened that way, because I gave every trip after that completely into God's hands. He wanted us to give Him that yes, to follow His will even if it meant sleeping outside in the cold. To accept anything and everything put in our path. I smiled as I curled up on the hard airport bench I would call my bed for that night, thinking of all of this and praising God for all He had done for us. Who knew I could ever be so thankful for an airport bench?

The rest of our trip was pretty uneventful compared to this- a time of growth in friendship and a realization of the joys and challenges of traveling abroad. London is such a historically rich city, and it was a childhood dream come true to be able to go there! Big Ben, Parliament, Buckingham Palace, the double decker buses, red telephone booths.. we saw it all :)

Stateside

Whew, has it been 4 months already? This semester has flown by. I apologize for not keeping this blog updated during most of the semester. It was my intention, but I didn't realize how exhaustingly busy I would be. I didn't even have time to process my trips in my own mind, let alone write it down and post it. So, as I slowly complete this process now in the States, you all will hear about it here! :)

I learned many things while I was abroad. Too many to count, in fact. I've seen so many places, met so many people, and been taught so many things that have all changed my life for the better. I fell even deeper in love with the Catholic faith- with the Church, with Scripture, with the Pope, and with the little ways God calls us on to holiness every day. I've opened up to the Holy Spirit in new and powerful ways, and have a whole new outlook on my prayer life. In short, my soul has come alive. Just like the hills ;)

I learned a lot of practical things too while traveling. Like, how to fall asleep on an airport bench and a train seat. How a human can survive on just bread, Nutella, and water for 3 days and not die. How McDonalds is the best place to sleep in an airport because they have couches. How the best thing to do after sleeping in an airport is to go to the duty free shop selling perfume and spray yourself with a sample... it makes both you and everyone around you feel better!

But, the most important thing I learned out of all of this is that Jesus Christ present in the Eucharist is infinitely times greater than any place I visited. I may have had these awesome experiences, but we can receive Jesus, the King of the Universe, into our bodies every day at Mass. That's greater than anything else in this world, and doesn't require a plane ticket! So rejoice, because He is our King :)

Deafening Silence

Have you ever experienced a silence so profound, that it is almost deafening to your ears? It's overpowering. Silence is not the mere absence of sound, but the presence of something powerful.

I learned this this weekend, for I stayed back on campus to do a mini retreat for myself while the rest of the students went on a trip to Salzburg. I'm already going there when my family comes in the spring, so figured this weekend would be a perfect opportunity to explore Gaming, catch up on sleep, and most importantly grow in my prayer life.

The looming halls of the Kartause are so silent that it's almost eerie. I wonder if this is what it was like when the Carthusians lived and prayed here, in complete silence. It makes me feel so small, like I am in the presence of something greater than me. And that I definitely am.

This weekend turned out a lot different than I thought it would. Instead of being all rainbows and butterflies in prayer, like I thought it might be given the events of this past week, it was hard. It was confusing. It was almost as if God clouded up all of the beautiful things that had just happened in my soul and left me grasping for understanding. But there was growth, and growth hurts sometimes. As much as I thought I was failing at it, I grew in trust and faith that God is always with me, even when I can't feel Him in the ways I'm used to. I grew in obedience, to stay faithful to prayer even when it feels empty. I think He's doing a sort of spiritual detox in me. He's cleaning out of my heart all the gunk that has been stuck there for years, in order to make more room for more grace and love. Scraping all of this up is painful, but it's necessary in order to get rid of it. So I must stay faithful, and have hope that He has something great in mind.

However, God broke the silence this morning. Especially in the "Kartause kids", as we call them. They are the kids of all the professors, who are always running around and just being plain old cute. I didn't see them at all this weekend, until at Mass this morning. Almost all of them were dressed in their snowpants, in order to make the snowy walk from their houses to the chapel. One family has a young boy with Downs Syndrome. His face just beams with the joy of Christ. Every time the priests and servers line up at the end of Mass to process down the aisle, he shreiks with joy, runs up to stand with them, and walks proudly down the aisle next to them. It melts my heart. Two of Dr. Asci's little kids brought up the gifts today, in their snowpants. And as I was leaving the chapel, Professor Cassidy's kids were outside already on top of one of the big snowpiles. They were screaming words like "attack!" in their adorable Scottish accents, like something out of a kids version of Braveheart.

Living truly on my own for the first time in Gaming- knowing only the words "hello", "thank you", "please", and "coffee" in German- brought its laughs and lessons. Like how at the grocery store, they don't weigh your fruit for you at the checkout. You have to weigh it on a scale on your own back where the fruit is, and stick the little sticker that prints out onto it to show how much it is. Thank God the cashier spoke some English. I bought enough food to last me the weekend, even though the labels were all in German. I learned very quickly the importance of pictures when cooking instructions are in a foreign language ;) I even learned how to be resourceful, using olive oil when cooking a grilled cheese instead of butter because the kitchen didn't have any. It ended up tasting pretty darn good, and is probably how the Italians do it anyway!

This morning after Mass I walked down to the local cafe. Austrians have an innate ability to walk on ice without slipping, and therefore don't put salt on their sidewalks. To a clumsy American like me, this proves a problem and is a cause for embarassment. But I made it in one piece, learning how to grip with my toes. I ordered a pastry and an espresso, and sat there writing in my journal. I couldn't help but smile, because I felt so European. I felt like I fit in. Even though it was all in my head because of course everyone in there knew I was American. But it's the little things in life that keep us smiling :)

Awe and Wonder

This past week has been full of God's grace. I am still in awe of it, actually. This place is so freakin' blessed! If you open your heart to it, you can receive untold graces while you're here.

It started a week ago, when we took a day trip to Vienna. The city is beautiful, but the most awe-inspiring moment for me was going into the National Treasury where all of the Hapsburg family's crown jewels are kept. No, I didn't start drooling over a tiara, although they were beautiful. My favorite part was tucked away in a corner, past all of the robes and jewels, where the family's personal collection of relics are kept. Since Vienna was the last capital of the Holy Roman Empire, and since the Hapsburg family was devoutly Catholic, they acquired the largest collection of relics in Europe outside of the Vatican. Shelves and shelves full of relics of saints in ornate frames and holders. Even a piece of Mary's mantle! But amongst these saints are relics of even more value. Relics that have literally touched the body of Jesus Christ, that are an essential part of His Passion and Death. A piece of the tablecloth used at the Last Supper. A thorn from the crown of thorns, slender yet deathly pointy. A piece of wood from the True Cross. One of the nails that pierced Jesus on the Cross. I would have cried if my body wasn't so frozen in wonder at seeing these things. The nail pierced my own heart, imagining it going through His ravaged body. That nail bore my salvation. Woah. I stood in front of each piece, meditating upon it and asking for God's grace to flow out onto me. Boy did He deliver.

All of last week, God kept showing His love for me in different ways. Some stronger than others. In one particularly blessed experience, I literally felt His love surrounding me like a cocoon. Like a forcefield. It took my breath away! The Holy Spirit has infused me in a new way, and I'm discovering gifts that I never had before. I'm learning to give my heart totally to Him and let His love flow out from me.

He's also keeping Haiti alive in my heart while I'm here, which is something I was curious about. It seems like at almost every Mass so far the choir has sung songs that remind me of Haiti, or of mission work in general. I also discovered a billboard on the walk from the Kartause to the center of Gaming, that is a picture of a black woman crying amongst the rubble of some disaster with an ad for an Austrian humanitarian aid agency. I'm almost 100% positive it's a picture from Haiti after the earthquake. Our Lady of Perpetual Help, the patron saint of Haiti, is EVERYWHERE I look. There's even a picture of her in the "secret" chapel that I love to go pray in, which is up a narrow set of spiral stairs in one of the towers of the main chapel building. God is showing me that I'm not abandoning my love for Haiti by coming to Europe. I was feeling guilty, for coming here when no one there will ever have this opportunity. I could have spent all this money to help them instead. But God is good, and is giving me little signs every day to show me that I did not abandon them at all, because they are in my heart. And through the experiences He is going to give me here, I will be better able to go and serve them in the future according to His will.

It's crazy how He had to drag me all the way to Austria to show me how much He loves me. But we serve a crazy God :)

All glory to Him, now and forever!

Culture

Culture. That's what I've been learning the last few days here in Gaming. As I'm starting to settle into my new home for the next 4 months, I've been learning some important lessons.. mostly the hard way.

Like, how the local grocery store doesn't put your stuff in bags to save the environment. So you need to bring your own bag, otherwise you and your friends will be walking back to the Kartause holding everything in your hands and pockets. Or, how Austrians (and Europeans in general) don't laugh or talk too loud out in public. If you do, you'll get looks. Especially if you're friends with Hispanics from New York ;)

The most beautiful lesson, however, is how seriously Europeans take the decorating of their churches. Even the local parish church in Gaming is covered in gold and huge murals and statues. It's breathtaking. Many churches in this area were built in the Baroque era, which focused on showing the glory of God in our human lives. These types of churches have the domed ceilings with all of the paintings and gold decoration, to give a foretaste of the glory of Heaven. I love it :)

At Mass at each of these churches we've been going to, it blows my mind when the priest consecrates the Eucharist. The same prayers, the same Jesus, the same words of consecration that I was hearing at that moment have been happening in those churches for the past 700 years. The continuity of the Catholic faith always amazes me, with wonder and gratitude.

After a few days of sightseeing, classes have now begun. This semester is going to be the best semester of classes I've ever taken. I'm taking 4 theology and a philosophy class, meaning I'm finally getting into the heart of my major and studying things that I actually want to study. All of the professors here are so passionate and devout. I have one from England and one from Scotland.. their accents make my day :)

Peace & Blessings

Größ Gott!

Größ Gott! (groos gott)

It means "Greetings with God" and is how everyone greets each other here in Austria. It's so perfect, because God has been greeting me everywhere since I got here. I can tell He wants to do some powerful things in my heart this semester, and I can't wait to see what they are! I pray that I can keep my heart open to receive them, rooted in silence and prayer.

I can't believe I'm finally here! Austria is absolutely beautiful. The mountain air is so clean and crisp, and there is rich green farmland everywhere (until the snow covers it again!) The Kartause, where we are staying, is much closer to the little town of Gaming than I thought it would be. It's only a five minute walk into the center of town!

The Kartause, and Austria in general, in such a perfect place for me to study and grow in silence, peace, and prayer. The Austrian people are very devoted to maintaining peace. They saw over 20 years of horrible fighting during the World Wars, including the Nazi regime. They are now a neutral country, and focus on trying to live out their lives in peace and harmony instead of destruction and violence. This atmosphere is present all over Austria, but especially at the Kartause.

There is a quiet yet powerful presence at the Kartause. It was built in the 1300s by one of the earliest Hapsburg emperors of Austria. Him and his wife built the complex as their imperial residence, building a Carthusian monastary attached to it. Kartause means Carthusian in German. The Hapsburg family was devoutly Catholic, as well as all of Austria, so it was only fitting that they would invite the strictest and most prayerful order of monks to live with them. The Carthusians live in complete silence except for communal prayer, praying for up to 9 hours a day. The holiness and grace of the monks' prayers still seep out of these walls, even though they have been gone from the Kartause since the late 1700s. The building fell into almost complete disarray, being occupied by Russian soldiers in the 1970s. The immense chapel was used as stable for their horses, and the present day classrooms as their barracks. It was completely renevated and restored in the late 1980s, thanks to God's grace, and is now used by Franciscan for their study abroad program.

It still blows my mind. I'm living in a place built by an emperor, who is buried with his wife under the chapel. I'm living in a monastary that housed some of the holiest monks of the Middle Ages and Englightenment period. I'm living in one of the oldest monastaries still standing in Europe, in what was the biggest Carthusian center in this region of Europe. These walls have seen centuries and centuries of history, and it gives me the chills. I am so beyond blessed to have this opportunity!

We got a chance to climb up a very tall, narrow spiral staircase in the chapel that looks like something right out of the Middle Ages! The original ceiling from the 1300s is very tall and pointy. A few centuries later they built a lower, domed ceiling that is what you see today. However, there is still a space in-between the top of the current ceiling and the original ceiling. We climbed all the way up the staircase (in the dark half of the time) to that space and got to walk across the top of the domes!! It was such an adventure. We got to walk around the main dome over the altar in-between the two walls, looking down into the chapel through the windows. There is graffiti up there from the 1800s up until the Russian occupation. We then climbed even higher and went in-between the top of the original ceiling and the wooden pitch of the roof. It was almost pitch dark, with the exception of a few flashlights and camera flashes. It was exhilirating! I felt like I went back in time the higher I got.

We've also gotten the chance to travel to the Marian shrine of Maria Taferl (dedicated to Our Lady of Sorrows) and the huge Benedictine monastary of Melk. Both of these are within an hour's drive of the Kartause. On our way to Maria Taferl in the morning, it was extremely foggy. As we drove higher and higher up the mountain, we climbed out and over the top of the fog. We literally were above the clouds. There was sunshine and bright blue sky waiting for us at the top where the church is. It's like what Our Lady of Sorrows does to our suffering- she is with us in the thick of the cloud and helps to raise us up to see the Light of her Son and give us hope and strength. Melk is at least twice as big as the Kartause, and its chapel looks like a glimpse of heaven. I've had so many prayerful experiences in the last 3 days, and can't wait to see what's next!

Keep praying for me.. I'm praying for all of you everywhere I go!

A New Beginning

Well today's the day. I'm leaving for a semester in Austria. In Europe. Across the ocean. Praise Him! :) I still can't believe this day is finally here, and probably won't believe it until I'm actually there.

God has graced me with so much peace, healing, and love this break, I think to prepare my heart for the journey ahead of me. I have a feeling He's going to teach me so much that my heart is just going to burst at the seams :) This is a step in my journey, a path along the way.

I ask all of you to pray for me, for my safety as well as my spiritual growth in holiness. I'll post all my updates here, so you can come along with me on my adventures. I also created a website for my pictures- www.edunph23.shutterfly.com. Might be faster to upload than Facebook.

Ok.. as soon as I turn off this computer we're leaving for the airport. My stomach is full of butterflies- both of excitement and nervousness. But I have God in my heart and angels surrounding me, so what do I have to worry about? :)


Auf Wiedersehen!
(apparently that means goodbye.. I need to learn how to pronounce it! oh boy..)

One year since the quake.. and God gave me joy?

Today (well, technically yesterday since it's past midnight) was the 1 year anniversary of the massive earthquake in Haiti. How has it been a year already? The memories of that day are still etched into my mind like they happened yesterday.

I wasn't there. I didn't experience the fear of the ground shaking constantly for days. I didn't experience being trapped under a building or losing those close to me. I have no idea of the level of pain that they went through. So in a sense, I have no right to say that I suffered that day too. But I did, in my heart. I went through a martyrdom of the heart, as St. Therese loved to say. My heart was breaking because of the burning love God had placed there for the Haitians.

I spent that whole night and the next few days praying. Along with the Rosary, the Divine Mercy chaplet became a huge source of comfort. As I prayed it, I imagined Christ and Mama going down into the dark places in the rubble where people were dying, bringing their Light, and lifting the people up to Heaven. My heart physically hurt. It was a somber few weeks.

So today, I expected to return to that same sense of somber-ness out of respect for those who died and suffered both physically, emotionally, and spiritually. And I did feel some of that, but for the most part God gave me joy and beauty today. He's crazy sometimes. It started with waking up to almost 2 feet of snow outside. It was a beautiful, magical winter wonderland. The spakling of the sun off of the whiteness of the snow symbolized purity, innocence, and new beginnings to me. Perfect for Haiti.

Then I talked to Kendra, one of the missionaries living at the orphanage. She told me about her exciting morning, helping to deliver a healthy baby boy named Josef to one of the women in the village. I know her children very well, since they always come around the orphanage to play. The oldest brother has been my best buddy since the start, and with 3 younger sisters he was overjoyed to finally have a brother. My heart was jumping for joy for all of them, and again this sense of new life overcame me. What a gift to the village, on an otherwise sad day.

This joy stayed with me throughout the rest of the day, through conversations with other people dear to me as well. I prayed a Rosary around the time that the earthquake hit, and Mama filled me with peace and hope that she is watching over the Haitians. I pray that she will take in every orphaned child, everyone who is in despair and alone, under her mantle and show them her most tender love.

I think it was very fitting that the anniversary fell on a Wednesday, a day of fasting throughout the world but also the day of the Glorious Mysteries of the Rosary. These include the Resurrection, Ascension, Descent of the Holy Spirit, Assumption, and Coronation of the Blessed Mother in Heaven. The fruits of these mysteries are all full of hope, faith, grace, and peace. The actual earthquake fell on a Tuesday, during the Sorrowful Mysteries full of suffering. But today, today we can rejoice in the hope of Christ that Haiti will be resurrected just as He was and will come into the eternal glory of the Kingdom :)

Mari Manman Nou, priye pou Ayiti.

Beauty Will Rise

If there was ever a perfect song for Haiti, I think this would be it. Or it would at least come close. I have to thank my amazing friend Kristina for showing this to me :)

Beauty Will Rise
(Steven Curtis Chapman)

It was the day the world went wrong
I screamed til my voice was gone
And watched through the tears as everything
came crashing down
Slowly panic turns to pain
As we awake to what remains
and sift through the ashes that are left
behind

But buried deep beneath
All our broken dreams
we have this hope:

Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
and we will dance among the ruins
We will see Him with our own eyes
Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
For we know, joy is coming in the morning...
in the morning, beauty will rise

So take another breath for now,
and let the tears come washing down,
and if you can't believe I will believe
for you.

Cuz I have seen
the signs of spring!
Just watch and see:

Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
and we will dance among the ruins
We will see Him with our own eyes
Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
For we know, joy is coming in the morning...
in the morning...

I can hear it in the distance
and it's not too far away.

It's the music and the laughter
of a wedding and a feast.
I can almost feel the hand of God
reaching for my face
to wipe the tears away, and say,
"It's time to make everything new."

"Make it all new"

This is our hope.
This is the promise.
This is our hope.
This is the promise.
That it would take our breath away
to see the beauty that's been made
out of the ashes...
out of the ashes...
That it would take our breath away
to see the beauty that He's made
out of the ashes...
out of the ashes...

Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
and we will dance among the ruins
We will see Him with our own eyes
Out of this darkness... new life will shine
and we'll know the joy is coming in the morning...
in the morning...beauty will rise!

Oh, Beauty will rise
Oh, Beauty will rise
Oh, oh, oh, Beauty will rise
Oh, oh, oh, Beauty will rise
Oh, oh, oh, Beauty will rise

New Years (not) in Haiti

Last night I was supposed to be dancing on a roof in Haiti, with a kid in my arms and joy in my heart. I was supposed to ring in the new year not with the ball in NYC, but under the dazzling light of the stars that make heaven seem so close. I was supposed to wake up to the sound of goats and children squealing, giving the country hope that maybe this year will be better than the last.

But God had a different plan.

Instead, I enjoyed New Years Eve in the comfort of a heated home with some old friends, watching the ball drop on TV. We then took a walk in the morning down to the beach, soaking in the unusual warmth of the sunshine for a January morning and just enjoying the beauty around us. It was quiet. It was low-key. It wasn't Haiti. But God's plan is always perfect, and I have to thank Him for that.

I have no doubt that God at least called me to give my "yes" to this trip being planned. There were so many things stacked against it from the start- I would only have 10 days between my return from Haiti and the start of my semester in Austria, I would miss out on key time with my family before going to Europe for 4 months, and I would use money I could have saved for travelling. But I kept feeling this call to go- the purpose wasn't clear, but I knew I had to say yes.

Then came the cholera. Not just a few cases, but an epidemic. As it spread more and more throughout the island, the chances of our trip happening looked slim to none. Still, I retained a determination within me to go. My family didn't understand. How could I risk my health, my life, before embarking on one of the most exciting semesters of my life? How could I risk dying when I could simply go another time? How could I so boldly risk my life at all, when they loved me and couldn't stand losing me? They were tough questions. And I couldn't fully answer them. Was I just being selfish? I know part of me was. But the majority of me just wanted to serve Christ according to His will. And if that meant respectfully going against my family's wishes, then I trusted He would give me the strength to do it. To be caught between family and reckless abandonment to Christ is a tough line to balance. I'm still not completely sure of it. But I continued with my desire to go, and decided I would until Christ told me otherwise.

After a few weeks, the cholera situation seemed to be improving. Our trip was back on. The period of uncertainty proved to be a blessing to me, letting me re-evaluate my reasons for going and purifying my intentions. It also strengthened my prayer life and my attempts to fast, and helped me grow evermore in trust. I finally even felt some clarity on my purpose for going. I kept hearing the word rejoice over and over in my head. My purpose was to rejoice with the Haitians and help give them hope for a new year. Ok God, now I can go right? The wait is over? Wrong. The second week of December Haiti held a presidential election. There was widespread corruption in the polls, leading all hell to break loose in Port-Au-Prince in the forms of riots, burnings, road blocks, and just all-around violence.

Ok God, just another hiccup. We'll get through this. Obviously, the requests from family and friends not to go just about doubled. But I wasn't going to let them make my decision. I placed it all in the hands of God. It was up to Him. I wasn't going to let fear keep me from doing His will and serving His people. I continued with this sense of abandonment and trust up until the week before we were supposed to leave, when the final decision came to cancel the trip. Of course I was sad, but I also knew that it was the right decision.

I think that it was so perfect that the time leading up to this trip was during Advent. My discernment taught me trust, abandonment, and flexibility. These are all things that Mary and Joseph experienced during her pregnancy and the birth of Jesus- trust in God's plan, abandonment to His will, and flexibility when the plans all changed several times. A few years ago, those two weeks before the trip when I didn't know if we were going or not would have given me an ulcer. But I was so calm, so trusting, all thanks to grace. I didn't worry about it. I knew He would tell me in His time. This time of waiting, even though the answer might be disappointing, was very proper for Advent. So I am thankful.

I saw this in the January Magnificat and thought it was totally appropriate: "Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton's path took many unexpected turnings because she followed God's will rather than her own. What matters most is that the path God chose took her to Him." So while it was my will that I spend New Years rejoicing in Haiti, God took me on a curvy path to find His will. The path He chooses always leads us to Him.

So, Happy New Years everyone! May 2011 bring you untold graces and blessings that fill your heart with peace and joy. And let's all pray for Haiti, that they can find continued healing in 2011 from all of the destruction of 2010. May Mary, the Mother of God (whose feast day is today!) protect every nation under her loving mantle and lead us all closer to her Son in worship and adoration.