Learning to lose control: Moved by the Spirit

Usually “to lose control” is something negative: for example, you don’t want to lose control when driving or of your emotions in an argument. Many people would also go on to say that one should always keep under control their life. But here is where I see – and live the consequences of – many risks…

As my formative journey continues towards consecration and ultimately towards holiness (I hope), I grow more and more in self-knowledge. Many personality traits or defects that I’ve certainly had all of my life have only now come under my attention.

One of these tendencies is that of having everything under control, calculated, and well thought out before put into action. I don’t know whether to be alarmed or impressed by my mind’s capability of fixating itself on and determining the outcome of the smallest detail of the future. This capability can be switched on at any moment, night or day, or rather, I should say is never really switched off.

Until recently I never thought too much of it. It actually seemed pretty handy to always be so prepared. It definitely feels more secure and gives me the impression (if not the reality) of never being caught off guard. Just the same, I’ve always admired people who succeeded at being spontaneous…and actually seemed to like it. For me spontaneity is more equivalent to an uncomfortable and unforeseen improvisation than a joyful state of being. I think I could even say that in order to live it without anxiety, I have to plan to be spontaneous.

But as I come to a greater awareness of this part of myself, that certainly has its advantages, I am beginning to see many risks as well as develop desires contrary to it…
One risk that I feel very often is simply exhaustion. When one’s mind works over and over again on the same talk, meditation, conversation, event, exam, etc… at a certain point, it just can’t handle it anymore, or at least mine can’t. It may cause me to lose sleep or have less energy for concentration whether in prayer or while studying. Another risk is that of losing contact with reality, being absorbed in thoughts that are elsewhere. In this sense my community life and relationships begin to suffer as well as that part of me that needs the healthy balance of giving and receiving affection.  

As far as desires go one has been trying to sprout out from the depths of my heart from some time now and in the face of its blatant “counterpart” (feeling ‘in control’ of everything) is showing itself with more force than ever. It’s aided by the Liturgy also as we are accompanied by the Acts of the Apostles in our journey toward Pentecost. What is this desire? It’s simple: to let go and let myself be led.

A couple of weeks ago, in a span of 24 hours I lived, in a small way, the fullness of my human desire of control and my inspired desire of being led. Some friends of mine asked me to give a brief testimony at a prayer vigil they were holding here in Rome. (Per qualcuno che si trova a Roma lo consiglio: info qui) It was a last minute invite and although I eagerly agreed it left me a bit in crisis. What would I say? What would they think? How bad would my Italian be? How thick my American accent? And if I ruin their event….? One worry more egoistical than the other. I hardly slept the night before, unsure if I dreamed about thinking about the testimony or if I was actually waking up during the night to plan it out. The whole day I struggled to remain focused on my daily activities finding myself in constant mental rehearsals. To embarrass myself even more I remind you that this was to be a 4 to 5 minute testimony accompanied by others plus a main talk. By no means was the focus all to be on me.

Arriving there, I was a mess. Thankfully one of my sisters was with me to distract and support me. There is nothing like meeting the smile of a “consorella” when sitting behind a microphone in front of an audience. But before talking, as programmed, there were a few songs of praise and worship to open the vigil. I told myself to just enter into the song without thinking too much and continued to invoke the presence of the Holy Spirit. At a certain point a familiar melody began to play and I realized that we were about to sing the translated Italian version of a song I knew well from my days in the parish back home. Closing my eyes, I began to sing from memory in English, letting the words leave my lips as a prayer. Prompted by the priest leading the prayer I opened my hands and slightly lifted my arms. In this position of praise and openness I received a Sweet Guest in my soul. Like a wave of consolation He washed over me pushing out all the tension and weight I had accumulated in that day. Don’t worry. It’s not such a big deal. I’ll tell you what to say. My heart, filled with a new joy and peace desired to sing all the louder. 

Finishing this moment of praise and worship, it was time for my testimony. And although accompanied by my rapidly beating heart, I enjoyed each moment of it. As promised I shared mostly words inspired by the Spirit and very few of those prepared by me beforehand. Returning to my seat we entered into a time of Eucharistic adoration, and I found myself looking upon my Lord with new eyes. We sang a song that described perfectly how I was feeling in that moment: free. With the sweet taste still lingering on my lips my desire for this liberation from my “need” to control grew all the stronger.

In the third chapter of the Gospel of John there is a verse that really strikes me: “He does not ration his gift of the Spirit” (Jn 3:34). In my Italian Bible this is translated as: “without measure He gives the Spirit.” Without measure. When God gives, He gives everything every time. God does not know measure. He is not measured. Measure is a human construct that we use to…wait for it…control. 

This verse really challenges me. Do I believe it? That God does not ration His gift of the Spirit? If that’s the case, why don’t I expect to receive His Spirit? Why do I limit – measure – “how much” Spirit I can be given and then organize accordingly? Or why is it that I decide what gifts of the Spirit He can give me and which ones I will never receive? Why do I feel the need to have everything under control if God promises me His Spirit to guide me? Do I not trust in the quality of His work and thus would rather do it myself? 

With this reflection, I’m not saying that we should never prepare and do everything spontaneously because that would just be the other extreme of the spectrum. As in everything we need to seek the balance of our active participation and the movement of the Holy Spirit that guides us. 

In our journey towards Pentecost, let this be our prayer: for an openness to and a trust in His sure gift of self. The Spirit Himself is after all the greatest of the gifts of the Spirit. May we be liberated from any tendencies towards total control of our lives and rather filled with the freedom of being able to let go and be led. For He who leads us is Trustworthy and Faithful; He is Love Himself. 

The Beating of a Consecrated Heart

Recently I find myself returning to the same question: What does it mean to have a consecrated heart?

I myself am not consecrated, not yet at least. But I am in formation towards that step and already living many aspects of the life I will lead after professing my vows. And so I find myself praying: teach me to love as You love Lord. Teach my heart to beat as only a consecrated heart can.

As usual, the Lord is not responding to me only through prayer or through His Word but rather through the experience of life itself. I am not sure that I can say to have ever lived a period so in tune with my heart as the one that I am living now.

It’s as if I am truly aware of the presence of my heart for the first time. I can feel its warmth in my chest. I can detect the subtleties of its movements: the way it beats differently for each person in my life; the way it is touched by different situations, words, actions, or music.

Everything is more intense. My joy is more full but so is my sorrow. And although filled with the boldness of a desire to love beyond human measure, my heart finds itself frozen in fear: fear of suffering and loss; fear of rejection and hurt. Looking over the ledge into the ocean of a love that freely receives and freely gives, I hesitate. As much as it is calling me, I still ask myself: Can I make that leap?

My spiritual father once told me that a consecrated heart is first and foremost a human heart. As with every vocation, consecration comes with a special grace but the consecrated one remains human. What’s important is to be aware of the movements of one’s heart, giving them a name without self-judgement.

A consecrated heart is a heart that belongs to Someone. It is a heart that can still be touched by others but recognizes that the Lord arrived first. In my experience, this belonging is also freedom. The more completely my heart belongs to the Lord, the more free it is to love others and to receive love from them.

As we approach Holy Week my eyes are drawn more intensely to the Cross. It is on the Cross, after His suffering and death that Christ’s heart is opened to us and the streams of living water and blood flow out upon us. It is in His act of freely laying down His life that Christ gives us the example par excellence of the love of which there is no greater.

And it is before this punctured heart, pierced and broken, overflowing from within with a love it could not contain that I find myself with yet another question: what death awaits the bride of the Crucified? What act of love will be asked of her who unites her heart so intimately with the One who hung between two thieves? What suffering must she endure in sharing so completely in the life (and death) of her Beloved?

And yet, before I can enter into this musing of death and suffering, the sweet wind of His Spirit whispers in my heart: O but what life awaits the bride of the Risen One? What abundance of love will be offered to her who makes space in her heart to receive it? How sweet will it be to share in her Spouse’s victory?

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What does it mean to have a consecrated heart? What does it mean to love as God loves?

I don’t know the answer to these questions and don’t pretend to ever arrive at them. At least not in word form. But I pray that by living each moment as it comes, by looking in the eyes of each person I find before me, I will have the grace to choose love. That I will be unafraid in giving of myself, and that I will allow myself to receive the self-gift of others. That my heart may never be too full to welcome in another. That my loving others as they are will come first from my own experience of being loved as I am. And that the source of my love will always and only be Love itself.

O Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us.

O Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us. 

A Pleasing Offering

Just about a month ago I took my first exam of the year - my Italian license driving test - which was followed almost immediately by three intense weeks of study and university exams: 5 oral and 2 written. Exam periods have never been the easiest for me. As silly as it might seem to describe it this way I lived these three weeks (especially the last one) as a time that was heavy and almost even dark.

During a period of exams I usually find myself more vulnerable in my weak points of perfectionism, anxiety, desire to please (myself and others), pride, and temptation to see my value in my performance and grade. As a person who already thinks way too much, my brain is in constant function leading to less hours of deep sleep and more frequent episodes of exhaustion. It is also a time in which I easily fall into concentrating almost solely on myself. Even my vocabulary changes: my time, my test, my studies, my, my, my...

But, oddly enough, this most recent period (which ended this morning) has also been a time of great intimacy with the Lord. In my weakness and tiredness I found myself coming before the Lord more authentic and real. When I felt overwhelmed by the desire to impress others, it was His gaze upon me that reminded me I am loved before and no grade or show of intelligence could ever change or increase that love. When I had no brain power to formulate eloquent words with which to address Him it was in repeating the simple truths of our faith that I found consolation: Dio mio, mio Tutto (“My God. My All.”) And when, in my human weakness, He knew I needed a little more than His spiritual presence (no matter how tangible it can be at times) He sent me a friend, a phone call, a message, a hug, a smile…

There was one moment of prayer in particular that struck me about a week ago. Praying my daily meditation with the first reading of the day, I found myself struck by the last sentence of the passage which was not a sentence that would have usually caught my attention.

“Then the offering of Judah and Jerusalem will please the LORD, as in ancient days, as in years gone by.” (Malachi 3:4)

I don’t know if I’ve even ever prayed with the Book of Malachi before but that evening this sentence completely changed my outlook on things. I walked in the chapel feeling oppressed by the studies I had yet to do and by discouragement and loneliness. I walked out filled with peace, hope, and even joy. Why? Because in those few words the Lord assured me that my offering (my studies, my attention, my effort) is already pleasing to Him. The offering, not the result. And it is pleasing to Him: He who we should strive to please before everyone else. I understood then that when I am focused more on the result than the offering it is because I am trying to please someone other than God either my professor, classmates, sisters, parents, or myself. When I am focused instead on the offering, it is then that I know I am trying to please God. And it is then that I can be assured that I will please Him because of the simple fact that when it comes down to it, each offering is an offering of self and all God desires is to receive our offering of self and be ever more united with us.

As I mentioned above, even outside of prayer, the Lord worked through those around me (friends from university, the sisters I live with, and complete strangers) to touch me with His love. In a particular way He did so this very morning. Waking up early I gathered all my things and started heading down to the chapel. Janel, the sister helping to guide me in my years of formation, asked me to wait and pray also with her. I wasn’t too suspicious at this point since she is known to wake up early as well and so I happily agreed. After a couple of minutes I see her enter the chapel with a backpack and jacket. Still not imagining anything too out of the ordinary I remained silent. Come to find out, she had organized her morning so that she could come with me to my exam, support me, and then walk back with me stopping at several churches and historical sites along the way. What touches me most about this is the love behind it. Her consideration of my need to be accompanied first of all. And then her attention of my love for little spontaneous adventures. Not to mention her own sacrifice. A whole morning out of the house takes away from tasks that could be accomplished or things that could be checked off of the to-do list. However, she chose the other over self. She chose me. She chose love.

Call me crazy but I give thanks to the Lord for the opportunity to live this time of exams. No, I wouldn’t volunteer to relive it immediately. I still have many more chances in the near future anyways. But I do recognize how He really can and does enter into every aspect of our lives. He makes Himself present and He makes His presence felt.

Fully equipped to hit the streets of Rome!

A God who gives

The time between Christmas and the Epiphany is my favorite time of the year to pray adoration. Why? Because I am a visual person, and before me in the chapel are the three most important events in the life of Christ…and thus our life as Christians.

First, in front of the altar, there is the baby Jesus peacefully laying in his manger. Then, lifting my gaze I find before me, on the altar, Jesus truly present in the Eucharist. And finally, lifting my eyes all the more, this time above the altar, they come to rest upon Jesus on the cross as a remembrance of His passion, death, and resurrection.

This year my reflection before these three most important historical events has been centering on God’s gift of self to us…

The baby Jesus in our chapel here in Rome is a particular little guy: that’s right, little, even though normally the baby Jesus we find in churches looks like a miniature man. Ours, instead, fits comfortably in the crook of your arm (yes we hold Him sometimes), is basically bald, is smiling so big as to have really squinty eyes, and has its arms lifted out to everyone that enters asking constantly to be held. These little arms and that smile got me thinking. Our God is a God who gives. He gives Himself to us as a helpless child. He wants to be held by us, and in a particular way He entered history abandoning Himself to the care of a young girl named Mary and her new husband Joseph. What humility and trust. He could have entered the world as an already grown, self-sufficient man – He is God after all – but He instead chose the way of patient growth, entrusting Himself to, yes, an extraordinarily virtuous, but all the same human couple. In a similar way He entrusts to our care His name and faith in Him. It is up to us to nourish this faith and allow it to grow into maturity in the people in our life, just as Mary and Joseph had the task of raising the child Jesus into full maturity knowing when to then allow Him to go out and continue this growth on His own.  

Gazing at the Eucharist, I see another aspect of the self-gift of God. While, coming into the world as a baby He entrusts Himself into the hands of Mary and Joseph, in the Eucharist He abandons Himself in the consecrated hands of the priest – a mere man with a supernatural calling. Again, Jesus is the model of humility and trust in this self-giving. For the glorious Son of God to come into the world over and over again in Masses celebrated in each moment under the appearance of a fragile piece of bread and a few drops of simple wine…just to be close to us, to become one with us, to transform us into Him through the grace of receiving His sacramental presence. He comes to us in the Eucharist just as vulnerable, if not more so, as when He was born to Mary and Joseph as a little baby boy. He gives Himself to us risking rejection, risking to be underappreciated and quickly forgotten, risking to not even be noticed at all. Our God is a God who gives without counting the costs…or better, counting the costs only for us but never for Himself. He does everything to facilitate our encountering Him, so strong is His desire for communion with us.

And this brings me to the cross. Is there a stronger example of abandonment? My God, my God why have you forsaken me?...Into your hands Father I commend my spirit. When in excruciating physical pain and under the weight of betrayal by His dearest friends, everything about His human nature was screaming injustice and demanding a “why” in the presence of the death that was becoming ever more imminent. But the Son of Man is also the Son of God, and the Son of God knows the Father. He knows the Father’s love and He, in return, loves the Father. He trusts the Father and knows that if it is the Father’s will, it is the best will. It is in this relationship of love and trust that Jesus – the King of Kings – accepts to die naked on a cross between two thieves before the eyes of His suffering mother who welcomed Him into the world 33 years earlier. In ultimate poverty He was to enter the world and in the same way He was to leave it…and all for love of us. For love of you, for love of me…the glorious King of all Eternity came into the world to give Himself to us, to suffer and to die, so that we might have life: His divine life; the abundant life that never ends.

If you get a chance this week, most churches should still have the nativity scene up in the church. Take a moment to enter in and gaze on the child Jesus abandoned in the care of Mary and Joseph. Take a look then towards the tabernacle where Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist. And finally, let your eyes fall upon the cross, the sign of the greatest act of love: the laying down of one’s life for a friend. What do these moments in the life of Christ provoke in your heart? What moves within you at the thought of the babe in swaddling clothes coming into the world with the purpose of ending up on that cross? How does this change your attitude towards His Real Presence in the Eucharist? At the least would you not be filled with gratitude? Thank Him. (Eucharist comes from the Greek word for “thanksgiving”.) And then obey the common message of the beautiful Christmas hymns we’ve been singing in these days and simply adore Him.

Oh humble Jesus. You never stop giving Yourself to us, and yet when is it that we give ourselves to You? You who are not too proud to become one of us, teach us to become like you.

Newsletter Update: December 2017

26 December 2017

Dear Family and Friends!

With the dome of St. Peter's in the background

I write to you on the day after Christmas from Rome with a heart so very full of all the best kind of things: joy, love, wonder, laughter, life! God has been faithful to His promise and has come into the world to save us from our broken nature and give us life everlasting…everlasting!!! That’s a lot of life! As usual I have for you some important events, a quick story, a sharing from the heart, and a list of prayer intentions. Let’s get to it!

Important Events

Jan 6 – arrival of Catherine (the newest member of the House of Formation in Rome

Feb 10 – My 25^th birthday!

    Mar 2-4 – Young Adult Retreat here in Rome

    Mar 25 – the 1^st wedding anniversary of my brother Brandon and Jen

    April 9 (Solemnity of the Annunciation) – Briana enters the phase of preparation for vows

    End of April – Big Annual Retreat in Rome

Story Time

             It’s always so hard to choose just one story to share so I’ll go with the first that comes to mind… This year we did a week long mission of evangelization in a university town about 1.5 hours north of Rome called L’Aquila. Two of our sisters (Sr. Janel and Sr. Francesca) go there once a month for a couple of days to have one-on-one talks with the students and lead moments of prayer. This was the first time for all of us to be there together.

             In our mission we desired to simply go out on the various campuses (the university is spread out throughout the town in different neighborhoods) to encounter the students, start conversations, share with them about Jesus, and let them know about the catholic student center and all it had to offer them. Practically speaking, it was a very simple mission material wise. All we needed was a smile, some flyers, and good walking shoes and we were ready.

We were also joined by some of the students already involved at the catholic student center as well as two Franciscan friars and the priest who normally works with the students. In order to be better prepared for the moments of evangelization, Sr. Clara guided us in short formation meetings each morning and afternoon. The topics of these meetings were various: our first encounter with God’s love, friendships, how to start conversations, taking an interest in others with questions…and always ended with a moment of prayer together.

With the students before going out to evangelize

This experience of all day evangelization was, I must admit, VERY exhausting. It was an experience of constantly “getting over myself” as I had to battle shyness, fears of rejection, humiliation, not knowing what to say…etc…over and over again before approaching each person. There was also the tiredness of staying attentive to the other person listening well to them and maintaining eye contact. Thankfully we went out in pairs so we were never alone in this mission. During the lessons, when there were less students out and about, we were able to share with each other and in some ways evangelize one another with our testimonies.

At the end of each day I was always worn out: physically, emotionally, and spiritually. But I had something else in my heart at the end of the day: joy. It felt good to do something “uncomfortable” for Jesus. It also was a chance to remember the encounter that I’ve had and continue to have with the love of God. My life is forever changed and forever more full because of my relationship with Him, and I do want to share that with others. I can’t keep this great treasure that I have found to myself! And sometimes the only way to share it with others is literally walking up to them and using words. We had a variety of reactions from the students but an overall welcoming atmosphere. Many were even happy to remain and chat with us for a while.

As I left L’Aquila at the end of the week, I felt in my heart a bitter sweetness. I wanted to remain and continue to cultivate friendships with the students I had met. Even today many of their faces remain fresh in my memory. Praying about this, I felt the Lord sharing with me an experience of His own heart. In the heart of Christ there is always room for someone new, and the Creator is constantly falling in love with His creature desiring to remain with him or her and establish a relationship. However, the creatures remain free and don’t always exchange the love offered them by their Creator. And as a human, I am limited by space and time and can only develop real relationships with the people who God has placed in my day-to-day life at this time. In returning to Rome the Lord was asking me to accept this paradox of a Christ-like heart and the human “limitation” of space and time. Sometimes I will remain wounded by the inability to continue a friendship or by the rejection of the friendship I offer but if I continue offering this friendship, this love, then my heart will slowly be molded more and more into the heart of Christ…and I’d say this ultimate sweetness is worth the occasional side effect of bitterness.

Where’s my heart?

Well…as I mentioned in the opening paragraph, my heart is in a very good place which is probably due to the fact that it is in very capable hands: those of the Father. I find myself repeating something very often in Italian: Il Signore è troppo buono con me (the Lord is too good to me). I say this half-jokingly but yet not really. It is evident in so many ways. He makes Himself present; He lets me feel Him accompanying me, and He, at least thus far, has guided me to much growth through minimal suffering. He whispers Scripture into my heart in the most opportune moment. He puts a stranger on my path looking for directions just in time to save me from a useless day dream. He blesses me daily through the presence of the sisters I have the great privilege to live with as well as the classmates who not only fill the breaks between classes with much laughter but inspire me by their “yes” to give their life to the Lord. And His gaze…no matter the state I come to Him (in sin, in grace, in exhaustion, in desire, with joy, with heaviness…) He looks upon me with the gaze that speaks peace, mercy, and love. Like He must have done with the apostles hidden in the upper room after His passion and death, He breaks through the closed door and His first word is: peace.

Lately He’s been inviting me into a hopeful silence which has been very appropriate for Advent. His invitation is to take refuge in Him. Perhaps the storm is still raging and no immediate solution is found but in this inhabited silence He gives me rest and reminds me of the glory already won. He encourages me: hope in me, hope in me. Hope has become for me a very sweet word.

On Retreat at a Marian Shrine in Southern Italy

Prayer Intentions

                          My exams!

                              Jan 18 – Ancient Greek written exam

                              Jan 22 – Ancient Greek oral exam

                              Jan 24 – Philosophy of Language oral exam

                              Jan 29 – Metaphysics oral exam

                              Feb 5 – Special Ethics oral exam

                              Feb 8 – Logic II written exam

                              Feb 9 – Modern Philosophy oral exam

A prayer please also for Briana who, as I mentioned under important events, will enter into the phase of preparation for vows on the Solemnity of the Annunciation which is on April 9 this year (It is usually on March 25). That she may be guided by the Holy Spirit in this transition and that she may find her model in Mary’s “yes” which we celebrate on this great solemnity in our church.

For the House of Formation which, on January 6, will grow to five as Catherine moves from Lawrence, Kansas to the Eternal City! That we may be welcoming and that she may have all the graces necessary for this transition.

For Sr. Kalin, just recently consecrated (December 9): that she may be overwhelmed by the graces of a newlywed bride of Christ in the beginning of this new chapter in her life.

I ask for continued prayers for my family who continue to give their “yes” as well to have a daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, cousin far from home and absent for major holidays. That the Lord may give them the grace to accept this as His will and as the best, not just for me or for them, but for all of us together.

Please pray also for our whole community in all of its branches (Father Salvatore, the sisters, the brothers, the lay people). That we may continue to follow God’s plan for this new reality in the Church. 

The community in Rome with Fr. Salvatore

                                                                                                                             United under His gaze,

                                                                                                                                             Cherise

A free 'yes'

“Then Moses went up from the plains of Moab to Mount Nebo, the headland of Pisgah which faces Jericho, and the Lord showed him all the land…The Lord then said to him, ‘this is the land which I swore to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob that I would give to their descendants. I have let you feast your eyes upon it, but you shall not cross over.’” Deuteronomy 34: 1-4

As I walked the fence line that always seemed so long as a child, I held in my hand the Word of God. Gazing around me I began to breathe deeper and more fully watching the view slowly change to a landscape all too familiar to me. Stopping at the edge of one pasture before entering into the next I found myself standing before all that I thought I ever wanted: 2 dry sand rock pits, about 12 head of cattle, mostly brown but some green grass, and no sign of manmade anything. Might not sound like much, but to a girl grown up on steak and potatoes in south central Texas farmland and cattle country, it’s all one really needs.

There I was in the place where I feel most alive, most myself…where breathing slows, deepens, and settles into a steady rhythm. In this place that inspires in me awe, wonder, and spontaneous prayer. It is there that my imagination feels free and creativity takes no energy. My heart there is full, content, and completely at peace. Everything seems clearer, difficulties are easier to face, joys acquire greater rejoicing, nothing is impossible, and fear is only fleeting.

With all this before me, I read from the end of the book of Deuteronomy. I have let you feast your eyes upon it, but you shall not cross over. And Moses became a friend.

My heart ached with both human sorrow and the best kind of rejoicing. I too was feasting on that which I always thought would fulfill me: the simple country life, big Texas sky, never ending pastures, one with nature, hands working the land. Since I was a little girl nothing else seemed necessary…and yet did I not recognize in my heart that stirring for adventure, that deeper desire for discovery, for a new and radical love that has always been there?

And then, freedom. I thought to myself: “I can give this up. I can say ‘no’ to a dream once had. I am free.” As my mind began to catch up to my heart, my smile grew all the larger. Yes, before me was –and still is- what part of my heart will always ache for, but it’s not what my heart was made for. My heart was made to follow Him who crafted it in His hands and placed it within me. My heart was made to belong only to Him and to be only where He was leading it. And yet my heart is completely free and its Maker asks of it its free consent, its free ‘yes’ to the following. He does not impose. He invites and waits.

You see, I have tasted what it is to follow Him. I have had my cup filled to overflowing over and over again in the most unexpected of places and situations. I have been stupefied time and time again by God’s uncanny ability to prove me wrong about myself, others, and the capacity of the human heart. And though, in that moment, my eyes were feasting on what I had long desired, I knew in my heart that He had something else for me- something that, as unbelievable as it may be for me, would delight my eyes and fill my life with an even greater beauty.

With each step in the journey – some quicker, some easier, some longer, some harder – I find that it is in Him that lies my true Treasure. He – my Heavenly Father, my Lord and Savior, the Spirit who guides me – He is the pearl of great price. It is growing in relationship with Him that my life blossoms, that I know who I really am, and that I learn to live abundantly even on this side of Heaven.

His Word tells me that where my treasure is, there will my heart be also (Mt 6:21). Right now my Treasure is calling me back to Rome, and I want to go after Him. Even before this special place, even with the freedom to say ‘no’, even with tears of goodbye, I find the greatest peace in answering ‘yes’ to His gentle invitation: “Come. Follow Me.”

Together

Everyone has different opinions on the ideal vacation. There are those who ache to get out and discover nature “roughing it” in a tent in the woods, and there are those who dream only of a single lounge chair at the edge of a great blue sea. Some desire to fill this time with projects never completed, books never quite finished, or destinations to arrive at…on foot. Others prefer to just pass the time; less objectives, the better. One may crave the silence of chosen solitude while another thrives when immersed in the chaos of a loud and crowded room. However, most would agree that joy grows when shared while very few can honestly describe their heart as happy if their stories reach only deaf ears and their photos fall under no gaze but their own.

In the end that which counts is not the number of hikes one does or how late one manages to sleep in each morning. It is not even all that important if the weather is sunny or in a constant downpour. Certainly these elements make a difference that can even be notable but there is really only one thing necessary: being together.

This becomes quite evident living for a month in a house in the mountains with 20 other women each with their own preferences, opinions, and ways of doing things. How often I have had to renounce my favorite game or desired activity, and how many times I’ve delighted in something that others participated in but would have never chosen on their own! Perhaps one would think we would all be happy and agree on a moment of prayer but there are preferences and different styles even when it comes to speaking with the Lord!

What makes it worth it then? This can be answered with only one word: “us.”

This summer is my first in which I come to the mountains having lived both in the States and in Italy, and I’m finally starting to fully appreciate the aspect of community we have here. It is not just a time of “vacation” or one in which we are able to rest and restore ourselves for the new year. It is also not a time to only have meetings to discuss, plan, and share even if it is the only time we are all together in the year. This is a time to simply be and to be together.

It is a time to re-find old friends for a chat; a time to marvel at the richness and miracle of such diverse people finding a home in each other; a time to grow in virtue under the demands of the dynamic of a full house; a time to be spent laughing, crying, sharing, “fighting”, growing, praying, learning…together. It is a time for us to be us. I mean, how much time do we actually give ourselves to just be ourselves? Ideally we would always be ourselves but so often commitments, work, obligations, and daily life get in the way.

But not here. Here, we are together. No matter how divided in preferences or opinions, we are us...and this is beautiful and makes my heart very happy.

My brave companions on the road to holiness!