Thursday, December 31, 2020

Newsletter Update December 2020

 

31 December 2020

Dear Family and Friends!

And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us,

and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only-begotten Son, full of grace and truth.

-John 1:14 

              Merry Christmas (it is still Christmas season you know!)…and Happy New Year (almost!). The six normal months have passed since my last newsletter update but they were a far from normal 6 months. The world has been in and out of health and economic crisis and in and out of lockdown because of COVID-19. And yet…on December 25 we celebrated Christmas: the birth of Jesus; God made Flesh; God who desires to be so close to us that He assumes our human nature in all things but sin. He is the Light in the darkness of our world and no matter the suffering or the struggle, if we truly seek to “walk by faith and not by sight” (2 Cor 5:7) we can say with St. John in the prologue of his gospel: “we saw his glory…full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). In this brief newsletter update I hope to share with you where I saw His glory this year underlying important events, sharing a story, opening my heart, and inviting you to pray with me for some special intentions.

Important Events

-          In October I started my final year of my undergrad in Theology (I’m already in my 5th year here in Rome!!)

-          I began a new apostolate at a parish here in Rome where I work with a group of university students and post-university young people.

-          I celebrated my year anniversary of consecration and renewed my promises of chastity, poverty, and obedience with my sisters here in Rome for the first time on Dec 8.

-          Sr. Tiziana had her surgery to help with her Parkinson’s Disease on Dec 9 and is currently in a rehabilitation center in the hospital.

-           (Sr.) Briana was consecrated as an Apostle of the Interior Life here in Rome on Dec 12.

Story Time

              On October 25 my daily life underwent an extraordinary change that no one saw coming. I accompanied one of my sisters to the hospital to get a routine COVID test before being recovered for an operation she had been long waiting for. The immediate result was negative (as we had hoped and predicted) and so we happily returned home where we had Sunday Mass in the chapel with Fr. Salvatore (our 94-year-old founder) and lunch with three other of our sisters. My afternoon was rather normal although I admit that I felt the need of more rest than usual. In the evening I decided to take my temperature just to be sure since we had heard of different COVID cases close to home recently. I was astonished to see such a high number and took it another time. As I was waiting for the second measurement my sister who I had accompanied to the hospital that morning barged in to announce that the hospital called to say that her test results were actually positive and that they had made a mistake earlier. In that same moment the thermometer confirmed my high fever. In the brief silence that followed the four of us sisters in the house exchanged gazes. Little did we know that it would be the last time we’d see each other in person without masks for almost a month.

              I don’t have a lot of experience of being sick but the next few days really seemed like being at home with the flu. The difference? I was confined to my room and deprived of all physical human contact. Our doctor was called and sent the necessary medicines. I heeded his advice to rest and spent a lot of time in bed. Classes were offered online but for the first few days I couldn’t manage to stay upright for too long because of the back pain and soreness I was experiencing. I remember a certain somberness at the thought of having COVID. Although it was not yet confirmed by an official test, I struggled hoping for it not to be true. There was a clouded silence that hung over me as I slowly processed and accepted that I probably had the virus that many feared; the virus that others refused to acknowledge; the virus that caused Italy to be in lockdown from March through May; the virus that prevented me from going home this year; the virus that claimed many lives all over the world; the virus that was still so new that it was hard to know if it should scare us because of its danger or just frustrate us because of its inconvenience. From one day to the next I had to cancel commitments, live all my relationships through the mediation of a computer or phone screen, and adjust to a life enclosed in the four walls of my bedroom (luckily of a decent size).

              For the next 4 weeks or so everything happened in basically one space. One space for study, rest, exercise, prayer, recreation… One space for thinking, feeling, desiring, wondering, hoping… One space for living. I suddenly found myself immersed in a new silence. A silence both in sound and in movement. On one hand I had a lot more time since there was no more commuting to do in any shape or form. On the other hand, I discovered how capable I was at “wasting” time and not getting much of anything done (especially in that first week). I also discovered how often I divide my spaces according to the present activity. My desk was where I studied (and “went” to online school), my bed was where I rested, my mat was where I exercised…but slowly, in the new silence, I began to hear a familiar Voice inviting me into a new wholeness. It was the voice of the Lord inviting me to live every moment with Him, to allow His presence to unite the space I was so tempted to divide. As I began to pray all my 4 hours of daily prayer in my room, His presence did become more tangible in that space. My dialogue with Him was no longer limited to my formal moments of prayer but also extended to my moments of study, rest, and exercise.

At the same time, I had the joy of being accompanied by my sisters even if by a new distance. We continued to pray together, eat together, and do recreation together with the help of Zoom and WhatsApp. We were extra careful to disinfect anything we touched outside of our own rooms and learned to smile at each other with our eyes when our paths crossed in the hallway. We created a habit of honesty where we could share how we were living the isolation without judgment or the presumption that the other would know how to help. Communication became a strong force against desperation and sadness. We discovered that unity is far from being established solely by physical contact.

When I was finally “freed” by a negative COVID test result, I attended the earliest Mass in the area and had a flashback to my high school days when I regularly attended the 7am daily Mass in my home town. The familiarity of walking out in a world still just waking up, starting off my day with the most important encounter, and leaving the church to find myself in a world fully awake and bustling with normal people doing their normal daily things was the best gift the Lord could have given me.

I realize that my experience of COVID was different than that of many others. I thank God that He allowed me to have very few symptoms that lasted for a small amount of time. I also thank Him that He accompanied me with the grace of His presence in my space of isolation and through my sisters who never left me alone. I continue to pray for those who have had a more difficult experience or will have one in the future. May God bless them, remain close to them, and may an end to this pandemic come soon.

Where is my heart?        

              As we embark on the year 2021, my heart feels the weight of 2020. Although I have much to thank God for and know that many experienced greater difficulties than me, I can’t help but feel that my presence is more conditioned than usual by the year that is becoming “the past”. I feel the time not spent with family (not having gone home), I feel the time spent alone (having been in self isolation with COVID), I feel the awkwardness of not knowing how to act in a group of people, I feel the lack of physical contact (hugs, handshakes, pats on the back, squeezing into a single church pew with my sisters, crowded spaces…), and I feel the great loss experienced by many (even if not by me personally). After months of new government announcements and COVID restrictions, I feel the tension between wanting to follow “the rule” and desiring “rebellion” in some shape or form.

              At the same time my heart is also filled with hope: hope in the goodness of man and man’s capacity for love. I refuse to put too much pressure on 2021, as if it must be the redemption of 2020, but I do hope that the transformation that man has undergone in 2020, the experiences had, the sufferings endured, the pain of loss, and the recognition of the difference one small glance or gesture of goodwill can have, will cause 2021 to be a new breath of fresh air. My heart desires to live more deeply in the present moment. My heart is renewed in its belief in the importance and power of the little encounters we have in the simplicity of our daily life. Like Joseph and Mary in those 30 years of hidden life in Nazareth, we are called to a continual discovery of God through the revelation of Jesus. And how did Jesus reveal God in those 30 years if not through simple acts of love: a joke to spread laughter, a helping hand in the kitchen, a gaze just to let the other know of his presence and support… My heart desires to live that way too and to not discount the greatness of the littleness of life at home, life at work, life in the streets…life behind the scenes.         

Prayer Intentions

-          For Sr. Tiziana who is in rehabilitation in the hospital where she had her operation that should help with her Parkinson’s disease. She should be returning home this month of January.

-          For my work on my thesis that I am doing for my final year of Theological Study.

-          For the exams from our first semester which will happen at the end of January and the beginning of February.

-          For my 28th birthday on February 10.

-          For my mom’s birthday on March 2.

-          For Shepherd (my 2-year-old nephew)’s baptism anniversary on March 16.

-          For Brandon and Jen (my brother and sister-in-law)’s 4th wedding anniversary on March 25.

-          For Fr. Salvatore (our founder)’s anniversary of ordination on March 29: 69 years a priest!

-          For Jen who is pregnant with my second nephew or niece (don’t know yet if the news is public on it being a girl or a boy): he/she is due in early May.

-          For the young people with whom I do apostolate here in Rome and for our apostolic initiatives in 2021.

-          For my final exams that will happen in June and the defense of my thesis (I will not be sending my mid-year update before I finish).

Pictures

 

The Apostles born in the 90s

singing the psalm at Briana's consecration

online recreation during COVID

Briana's consecration

American Family of the Apostles (almost all)

United always in Him,

Sr. Cherise

 

 


 

Sunday, December 6, 2020

Lead, Kindly Light


The above pictured candle has burned on two occasions: my baptism (March 7, 1993) and my consecration (December 7, 2019).

I count it as a special gift, that my sister Kalin chose my baptismal candle as that which would be the symbol of the consecrated life during the Mass in which I gave myself to the Lord as His bride.

It is a candle that I grew up with. Not only symbolically, in the sense that it was present since the beginning of my Christian journey but also practically: it was always on display in my bedroom. The famous candle that was never again lit…until the day of my consecration!

To have these two most important events of my life connected through a common candle is not necessary but a nice touch. The events would have been connected anyways through something much more profound: their nature. It is in our baptism that the seed of our vocation is planted. A vocation that is first and foremost a call to love God and neighbor. A love that, with time, takes on its own unique form, in some shaping into marriage and in others, as in my case, into consecrated life. And it is through this vocation that we continue to live ever more fully and more personally the promises of our baptism.

As I reflect on this first year of consecration, I find within me a desire to be led by the light of that candle. The light that represents the Light of Christ that has shone long before my existence and will shine on long after. The Light that gave life to a candle of a baby girl not yet aware of the loving gaze of the Father that would bring her to the altar 26 years and 9 months later as a living offering to the Son with the promises of Chastity, Poverty, and Obedience that she is able to live only with the help of the Spirit.



Today, in thanksgiving and praise, I make mine the beautiful words of St. John Henry Newman.


Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th'encircling gloom,

Lead Thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from home,

Lead Thou me on!

Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see

The distant scene; one step enough for me.

 

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou

Shouldst lead me on;

I loved to choose and see my path; but now

Lead Thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,

Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years!

 

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still

Will lead me on.

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till

The night is gone,

And with the morn those angel faces smile,

Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!

 

Meantime, along the narrow rugged path,

Thyself hast trod,

Lead, Saviour, lead me home in childlike faith,

Home to my God.

To rest forever after earthly strife

In the calm light of everlasting life.