Megan's Washington Journey

Home Again

2011-05-31T13:22:00.000-07:00

I have completed the circle of my Washington Journey. I am back in my living room in Minnesota during the summer - I feel like I have come back to the place I started. Since I returned to Minnesota, I have been saying, "I can't even begin to say what I have learned or how I have changed over the past year." I still feel that way, that the person I am now is extraordinarily different than the person who left this house last summer. But I am starting to feel a pull to define those changes. Who am I now?

I am going to spend the summer trying to answer that question. I will be reading books related to my experience (especially those written about the history of the St. Ben's sisters) and writing reflections in order to really "unpack" my Washington journey. During our re-entry retreat, Ashley, Daisy, and I wondered what it would be like to go home after living in a monastery for nine months. We were all excited to see our families, but we also had a sense of apprehension - how could we preserve what we've learned over the past year? I am hoping that by writing and really processing my feelings and thoughts about coming home - and about leaving Washington - I will be able to more fully become the person I am now. It's hard to explain, because of course I am the person I am now. But I want to embrace and explore how different I am now than I was a year ago.

I spent last summer in denial. I denied all my feelings, all my worries and preoccupations, all the things that made me sad or upset, anything that didn't fit into a neat box of how I thought I "should" be. I closed up my heart, thinking that would protect me from being hurt. This past year has been a slow and gentle but very complete opening of my heart - to God, to the people I love, and to my own self. As I learned how to open my heart, I realized how much I hurt myself when I locked my feelings away - I didn't let anyone in, but I also didn't let my own, real, true self out. I made myself unhappy because I refused to be who I was at that stage of my life - scared, disappointed, unsure of the future, really unsure of going to volunteer with a monastic community, and out of touch with God. That's who I was a year ago today. Now, I am a completely different Megan. I know what the next step in my life is and I'm excited and confident about going to grad school. I have had a life-changing year that has brought me much closer to God, to my family, to my boyfriend, to my friends, and to myself. I have tools and skills to face a world that won't always give me happiness or comfort. I feel so much more stable within myself - I have a foundation of not only education, but also life experience and faith.

So what I hope to do this summer is deny denial any place in my life. I want to acknowledge and plumb every depth of feeling, good and bad, that this transitional phase will bring. By doing this, I think I will be able to keep the lessons I have learned from my St. Placid sisters alive in my heart and in my every day life.

As I reread what I've written so far, I realize it seems like a rather abrupt jump from my last day in Washington. To summarize, I spent four days with the sisters at St. Ben's and with my fellow volunteers, Daisy and Ashley. We shared pictures and memories and feelings of transition - leaving the people we love, but returning to other people we love. Now, I have been at home for a whole week. I've mostly been unpacking and catching up with my family members and Kevin, and today I've started working on incorporating my Washington Journey into this next stage of my journey of life. I'm thinking of starting a new blog for the summer, since my Washington journey is technically over. I'll keep you all updated on that!

I am a creature of habit, so I feel I must end my last post with a lesson, as always. Today, my dear S. Anamaria travels home to Tanzania - right now, she's probably closing her eyes as she crosses the Atlantic Ocean because it's so scary! But one thing she taught me in my last few days (and every day) at the Priory was how to leave gracefully. She certainly had her moments of panic, and she told me last night on the phone, "I have to go now because I have to run around!" But when she said good-bye to me, she thanked me for being myself. She thanked me for always being there and being willing to help her. She didn't say she would miss me - she said she would remember me. I know S. Anamaria will always live in my heart. Part of her has become an inseparable part of who I am now. She demonstrated to me that, when we have to say goodbye, when a part of our life ends, we can be sad - but we can be much more happy that we have been part of something bigger than ourselves, something hard to say goodbye to, because we will always carry it with us. Although I'm no longer in Washington, my Washington journey will always be a part of me. And for that, I will be forever grateful.

Thank you all for your support, encouragement, prayers, thoughts, and love. You have been a part of my journey, too, and I take you with me into whatever God gives me next. May God bless you and walk with you, where ever the journey of life takes you. Thank you for walking with me.

Peace and love,
Megan

Last Day in Washington

2011-05-20T12:55:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it: today is my last day in Washington! Tomorrow I get on a plane and return to Minnesota and leave all my dear sisters here - but I know they will live on in my heart. I have so many mixed emotions about today - I am so sad to say goodbye, but so glad to know that this year has truly changed who I am and who I will be in the rest of my life. I don't have much more time to write, but I wanted to post this video I made of the Priory. I'll write more once I'm home!

Peace and love!

Winding Down

2011-05-13T15:45:00.000-07:00

My Washington Journey is almost at an end - I have one week left at St. Placid Priory! I haven't written in a while because things have been hectic, but I'd like to fill you in on what's been going on.

Last week, S. Anamaria finished her classes - we had lots of big projects and it was a sprint to the finish line, but everything was completed on time. Then, last Saturday, she graduated from St. Martin's University! I watched with amazement and pride as she received her diploma - she worked SO hard for the chance to walk across that stage. After the ceremony, we had a huge party here at St. Placid's. Everyone who came had had some influence or contribution to S. Anamaria's American journey. It was really moving to see how many people have supported her and continue to care about her and the work she will do when she goes home.

Two sisters from Tanzania who are living in the US came to visit for the graduation festivities, so we had four African princesses grace us with their dancing for the weekend. I loved getting to know S. Agatha and S. Beatrice - it was a window into Anamaria and Redempta's world, and I learned a few more Swahili words. It was so fun to watch them all interact and talk, like they were at home. And they welcomed me into their visits with true Benedictine hospitality!

Since the graduation party, it's been a mix of activities and emotions. We were all exhausted on Monday, and it's been strange having some important things to do - like apply for summer jobs and wrap up my duties here - and having my real "job" be finished. The night Anamaria finished classes, we both went up to our workroom in the evening just out of habit! We laughed at ourselves, but ended up looking at pictures and just enjoying the time together.

I'm feeling very bittersweet about coming home. I am going to miss each and every one of the sisters so much! They have truly become my family here, and I have learned so much by being in their presence. I'm excited to come home and share this experience with all of you who have been reading my blog throughout these nine months! I know it will take a while to transition from monastic life to living at home, and I might die of sun exposure after living under clouds for so long! But, as Anamaria says, when things change, we must adapt. The relationships I've developed over the past nine months are about to undergo a big change, and I have to be ready and open to adapting to my new situation.

My lesson this week is to let God be my strength. In every challenge and in every change, I can depend on myself and my faith - a faith that I have grown and tried to live more every day during this phase of my journey. I can always walk tall knowing that I am a channel of God's love. No matter where the journey of my life takes me, no matter what joy or pain I go through, I know I can rely on God to walk with me if I am open. I don't always want to listen, but when I do, I know God will be there.

Peace and love.

Lessons from S. Anamaria

2011-05-13T15:05:00.000-07:00

This is the article I've written for the St. Placid Priory Newsletter. I wanted to share it with you, my readers!

“When things change, we must adapt.” This is the major lesson I have learned from Sister Anamaria Haule, a Benedictine sister from Tanzania who has lived at St. Placid Priory for the past eight and a half years. I have been a volunteer at St. Placid for the past nine months, and my main work has been to tutor and assist S. Anamaria and her fellow Tanzanian sister, Redempta, in their school work.

I came to St. Placid last September having just graduated from the College of St. Benedict in Minnesota. I felt confident I could give of my academic skills to help the Tanzanian sisters on their journey because I had worked at a Writing Center for three years. I jumped right in to editing and proofreading the sisters' daily work.

After one long evening of writing work, S. Anamaria shared some stories from her childhood with me. She told me what it was like to grow up in poverty in an African village. She vividly described the hardships she had encountered and also the blessings she had received. She opened my eyes to her journey to the United States, her journey through her life, and I felt both astonished and guilty. I had assumed that she, like I, had chosen to be here; I had assumed that I was at St. Placid to teach her something, to help her out because she was lacking.

I discovered, that evening, along with many subsequent evenings and afternoons of reminiscing and sharing, that I had much more to learn from my Sister Anamaria than I could ever hope to teach her. I have corrected her English grammar, inserted endless "the's" into her papers, and passed on objective knowledge that will help her communicate more clearly with the English-speaking world. But the wisdom, the life lessons, the simple but profound philosophy that S. Anamaria lives has taught me how to live in harmony with God.

S. Anamaria has often expressed her disbelief that she is in America, that she has graduated from college, that she has been given the opportunity to learn English and improve her community and her home country of Tanzania. She grew up in a one-room bamboo hut with her stepmother and cousins. She had no money; she ate meat at most twice a year; she had never seen a paved road; she had only finished elementary school before joining the Benedictine community. When her prioress told her she was being sent to America, she was utterly shocked. She thought someone smarter, someone more educated or with more scholastic aptitude should be given the opportunity to go. But when the prioress asked her to go, she accepted. S. Anamaria allowed the hugest change of her life to happen, and she decided to adapt to it as best she could. She came to America speaking very little English, and now she has graduated from an American university with a bachelor's degree. She has flourished and flowered because of her motto: "When things change, we must adapt."

S. Anamaria describes her journey from Tanzania, to America, and now home again, as a Circle of Life. She has traveled a road of learning, change, and adaptation to make it through this season of her life. She has succeeded and grown because, when something changes for S. Anamaria, when I re-explain an assignment that she misunderstood, when she makes cheese and it doesn't turn out, when she plans to go somewhere and it rains, she says very calmly, "Ok."

I have often struggled with allowing God to change me, or to change the plans I have for my life. I know what I want, and I work hard to get it. I get upset with God when things don't go my way, when I have to start over or rearrange things because I don't have control over everything. I don't want things to change. But, as S. Anamaria has told me over and over, things do change: "That is life, Megan." I don't get to choose what happens in my life. I can ask, I can pray, I can do my absolute best, but in the end, God decides. I can either accept the change God puts in my life and adapt to it, or I can resist it and fight against it and be angry with God. But if I am to grow, if I am to allow God to work in my heart, in my life, and through my actions, I have to be like S. Anamaria. I have to let changes help me grow into a beautiful butterfly, like they have for S. Anamaria. Change is not easy; it is not painless or risk-free; it is not passive. In order to change gracefully, we must accept that God wants us to adapt.

Each stage of our lives brings us change. Each circle in our lives brings us closer to God, if we choose to adapt and accept the challenge. And when we adapt to God's changes, we become more fully the people God means us to be. S. Anamaria understands that about God, and her example has taught me to be open. And because S. Anamaria has adapted to her changes, she can now spread her wings and fly.

Easter and the End of the School Year

2011-04-29T15:31:00.000-07:00

Happy Easter! It's still Easter week, so I guess I can still say that. What a week it has been, too!

Last Wednesday, S. Mary Jane Berger, one of my volunteer directors, came to visit for the holiday. We had so much fun talking and enjoying the beautiful spring weather together. It was really wonderful to have company for a holiday - I felt like I wasn't the only one new to things, and I had a companion for the down times. We enjoyed holy silence with my St. Placid sisters and it really was my favorite holiday I've celebrated here in Washington. Each day of the Triduum was special and unique, and Easter morning was our big celebration with food and guests and dyed eggs. I was hardly homesick at all!

Mary Jane left on Tuesday morning, and since then it's been a mad rush to the finish line of the school year. S. Anamaria presented her thesis on Tuesday afternoon - she did such a wonderful job and ended with the simple but profound wisdom she brings to everything: "Children learn when they are happy." We spent Tuesday evening and all of Wednesday studying for a final exam, and since then we've been working on her other 3 final projects. S. Redempta also turned in a first full draft of her master's thesis today - about 150 pages. Needless to say, I've been busy! The best part about it has been that the sisters are willing to take breaks because they're working so hard - on Wednesday night, after the final, we had Tanzanian food (ugali, made from kasava root flour and water, and venison with tomatoes, onions, and "hot pepper") and we listened to Swahili and other traditional African music. We even danced a little bit! I've been picking up a little more Swahili lately - I can now say Good night, see you tomorrow, sweetheart, hello, how are you, I love you, banana, thank you, and numbers up to 19. Redempta told one of the sisters, "She speaks a lot of Swahili!" I wouldn't say a lot, but it's been fun to learn.

This weekend starts some lasts, too: It's Stephanie's last day of work tomorrow, and I'm hosting my last party, for my birthday, on Sunday night. We'll have puppy chow, dance, and play Bananagrams - my signature additions to community life. I can't believe how fast the time has gone!

I've now registered for classes at the University of South Dakota for this fall. I'm working on housing and getting really excited to start school again! It will be a totally different pace of life than I have lived this year, but I feel refreshed and ready for it after this time of peace and calmness.

I think I wrote this last week, but every day I'm here, I know this was the place I was meant to spend this year of my life. Each sister and friend of the community has taught me something I will take with me and benefit from for the rest of my life: S. Anamaria's philosophy, S. Redempta's verbal reactions (especially GO-OSH! and her laugh), S. Sharon's wisdom, S. Monika's boundless energy, S. Damaris's endless projects, S. Mary's diligence and enthusiasm, S. Nathalie's gratitude, S. Margaret Ann's connectedness to the outside community, S. Rosemarie's love for the bluejays, S. Dorothy's gentle movements, S. Lucy's determination to learn new things, the Knitters and Spinners' delight in sharing their work, and so many others. I have truly been blessed by living here, and I will be sad to leave in three short weeks. But until then, I will enjoy each day and each person here.

Peace and love!

Walking on Sunshine

2011-04-19T18:48:00.000-07:00

I have wonderful news - I've been accepted to grad school!!! I'll be attending the University of South Dakota next year in the Master's program in English. All of this waiting and hoping and trying to be patient and accepting has finally, finally ended.

I still haven't fully accepted that it's true - I have a future, a place to go, work to do, responsibilities to accomplish. When I told S. Anamaria, she said, "Your Easter has come early!" And S. Sharon even said the forbidden "A" word a few days early! All the sisters have really rejoiced with me about this enormous milestone in my life - they have been asking for weeks and months about what's going to happen to me next, and I feel so blessed to be able to share this success with them.

I have written so much in this blog - about how my life has changed over this past year, about how I have changed in my relationship with God and my relationship with myself, about how being in this place has made me grow into a fuller, more adult, more gentle and open Megan. I only have a few weeks left, and now that I know what's coming next, I feel the separation more acutely - I can focus on being HERE now that I don't have to worry about the future.

I spoke with my fellow volunteers in Puerto Rico today, and we all agreed that it's going to be bittersweet to end our volunteer experience. But we also all agreed that we have a whole month left in which to learn from our sisters, and that is what I hope to do for the rest of my time in Washington.

The title of my blog reflects my feelings since I got my acceptance letter and also the amazing weather we've had the past two days here in Washington. I took a long walk today, and, when I finished, I couldn't figure out what feeling was so intense inside me. I sat down on the warm grass and just soaked in the rays of the sun, and eventually it came to me: the feeling was peace.

I have just one more thing to add, since this will probably be my last Lenten post. Last night, the sisters had a communal reconciliation service. We all went up to the altar, where a bowl of holy water was sitting, and blessed each other in pairs. When it was time for S. Mary, one of the oldest sisters, to bless her partner, she said, "Sister, I love you. I forgive you for all things." It was so simple, but it was so profound and sincere - I felt like she was saying those words to me, like God was speaking through her, right to my soul. I felt so purely forgiven, so unconditionally loved, by her words. And they weren't even spoken to me! I will never forget that moment.

I wish you all a blessed Holy Week and Easter!

Peace and love, peace and love.

Living

2011-04-15T16:04:00.000-07:00

It's the middle of April. 5 weeks from today will be my last night at the Priory. I can't believe it - it seems so surreal that my time here could end. I think it's hardest to believe because I have no idea what's coming next in my life, so it seems almost like life can't go on after May 24. I'm still waiting...

But the good thing about waiting this long is I've gotten used to it. I don't expect to know anymore, so I don't worry about it. And this new sense of acceptance has really given me peace this week. I've been able to enjoy the little things, I've been working hard and a lot with S. Anamaria, and I've recovered a little of my sense of purpose by just being ok with where I am. I certainly still have moments of anxiety, but they pass quickly and I'm able to conquer them more easily now.

I talked with S. Ann Marie this week about some of the challenges this year has posed, loneliness and too much peace being the biggest things. She reminded me that in each stage of life, we learn how to deal with new challenges, and we always grow stronger and fuller from experiencing those challenges. I have learned how to find fulfillment in solitary activities like reading and knitting, and I have learned both to be ok with being alone and to have the courage to reach out to people when I need them.

I also have learned how to take opportunities as they come - something my best friends would be pleasantly surprised to hear. I have grown much more flexible in making plans and even carrying out plans, and I have accepted the inevitability - and positivity - of change. If someone invites me to do something five minutes before we have to go, I am thrilled to accept - something I had a really difficult time doing in college. Having a less-demanding schedule has really helped me grow in openness.

The other subject I wanted to write about today is S. Anamaria. She is leaving only a week after I am, and her transition back to Tanzania is going to be so incredibly much bigger than my transition home, four states away. She has been working so hard this whole year, and just yesterday she received the news that she has been selected to present her thesis at Scholar's Day, which is an enormous honor. We have been working all week on creating and polishing her presentation so she will be ready to speak to both her scholastic committee and the public who will attend. People have started RSVPing for her graduation party, and two of her Tanzanian sisters who are studying in the US will be staying with us for a few days surrounding graduation day. It is such a huge, amazing accomplishment for this woman who came from incredibly adverse circumstances, arrived in America speaking almost no English, didn't intend to go to college, began her education by studying accounting, and has now found a true, deep passion for teaching the children of her country in an effective and nurturing way. I think back on my college graduation, not quite a year ago now, and remember how big and important it felt to have earned a bachelor's degree. Now, I try to multiply that feeling by a thousand to understand how Anamaria must feel. I am truly amazed by her work ethic, her perseverance, her strength, and most of all, her courage. I will miss her - and especially how she laughs with complete abandon - so much.

My lesson for today is to keep living each day with intention - to love and appreciate every moment and every opportunity that comes my way. I read Isak Dinesen's Out of Africa in September, and a quote has just come back to me about the way the she described how the Kikuyu people she lived with experienced time. To paraphrase: "When you ask a Kikuyu to wait with your horse while you go in to visit, he is more than happy to accept. And he hopes you will be a very long time, because he does not waste time or kill it. Instead, the Kikuyu sits down and lives." I want to emulate both my sister Anamaria and the Kikuyu people - not dread or plan or worry for the future, but simply live.

Peace and love!

Peace, Patience, and Hope

2011-04-08T15:46:00.000-07:00

Well, it's April. Time alternately jumps and drags as I travel through Lent here in the monastery. Half the time, I want time to slow down and just stay put because I know how life goes here, I'm comfortable, and I like what I do. The other half, I'm just waiting and waiting for the next step, wishing I could move forward. I am stuck in transition.

In a lot of ways, this whole year has been one of transition - from school to the adult world, from insane busyness to extreme peacefulness, from living with people my own age to living with women much older and wiser than I. I've gotten used to most of it, but as my year comes to a close, I have found myself in much the same place as I was last April - not sure of the future, not knowing what will come next.

Last year, this was a horrible period of doubt and struggle for me. I didn't make it into grad school, and I felt like everything I had worked for academically was now worthless, that I wasn't as good as I had thought, and I went home to work as a janitor in my old high school. It was a challenge to maintain my self-worth some days; I felt like I had been deflated. I gradually worked through that, with the help of several of the Sisters at St. Ben's, plus my family and friends. I tried to accept the place I was in, the place God put me, and I eventually embraced it as a much-needed break, a time of peace and rejuvenation, a time to help someone else instead of always helping myself. I have grown so much this year BECAUSE I'm not in school, because I have time to think and process and read slowly and stand outside in the rain or the sun and just soak in life.

But now, I'm getting restless. I'm still waiting for admission decisions from graduate schools, waiting for God to show me which fork in the road I need to take. I am getting tired of sitting and thinking - I am ready to DO again! And I can DO here: my work with the Tanzanian sisters continues to be rewarding, and I have read as many books this semester as I would have if I was in school. But I still have energy to spend, and lately, most of those get funneled into worrying. I worry that things won't work out again, that I won't find nearly as wonderful of a back-up plan as volunteering if I don't go to school, that I'll be stuck, wasted, somewhere I don't want to be.

It's been a challenge for me to continue to be patient. I didn't expect to need this much endurance! But this morning, I came across a journal entry on my computer that I wrote during my sophomore year of college, and it really spoke to me. I was writing about my hopes for the future and how hard it was to wait - to know who I would fall in love with, what I would do with my life, where I would live. In my writing, I was passionate about telling myself to be patient - and to rest in God. I had this burning desire to make God the first priority in my life, and to let God worry about everything while I waited patiently for myself to be ready, for my life to bring me to the place where I would be able to know. I knew that I wasn't ready for the things I wanted to know during my sophomore year, and I really found peace in being patient and letting God take care of it. In the three years since I wrote that, I've lost a bit of my patience. I want to know! I want to be in control! I want to make plans!

My lesson for today is not only to work hard on peaceful patience, but also to not give up hope. It's easy to spend time just dwelling on the fact that I don't know yet, to feel despair. But I have always been an optimistic person, and today the sun is shining. When God closes a door, God opens a window. If it's not the way I expected, it will still be in God's plan. And I can still read and write and learn and sing and teach, no matter where I am. And I can always love, which is really the only thing that matters.

Happy spring! Peace and love.

Transition

2011-03-25T16:25:00.000-07:00

It's the end of March. I can't believe it. It's really spring here, with pink blossoms on the trees and daffodils and dandelions everywhere. I've been walking without my jacket for the past three days!

Last week, my sister Alyssa came to visit. We had the most wonderful time talking, going out to eat, going shopping, watching movies, and visiting the ocean. We also spent an afternoon at a pottery studio, which we both thoroughly enjoyed. It was so fun to have a companion for the week - someone to just sit with, even when she was doing homework and I was reading. It was really refreshing.

We also celebrated St. Patrick's day while Alyssa was here, and the two of us taught the sisters a very elementary Irish jig. S. Anamaria was our most enthusiastic pupil, and she was determined to learn so she could teach her Tanzanian students. The whole community enjoyed watching her try to move in a stiff and regulated European style instead of her very fluid and natural African way.

This week has been a pretty ordinary one, with school work, phone calls, and Lent continuing. We've had more sunshine than usual, and last night S. Anamaria and I embarked on the adventure of making mozzarella cheese in our kitchenette! We made a little too much noise, but by the end, I had declared her a genius cheesemaker. We got lots of good pictures.

My lesson today is about the transitory-ness of life. There are a few events that made me start thinking about this. First, this afternoon, I played with one of the Knitters and Spinners' grandchildren, a four-year-old boy with lots of energy. He declaimed the cause and effect of the drain in the fountain and also informed me that if monsters ate a leaf, we would never ever see it again. I could almost watch him making connections about what would happen if... It was like he was growing up before my eyes! Also, lately S. Monika has been saying good night and adding, "See you in the morning, God willing" to the end. I think the tsunami in Japan has made us all start thinking about how suddenly life comes and goes. And finally, I have only two months left with the sisters here in Washington, and I'm starting to imagine what life will be like after volunteering. Now that I'm really settled in to this way of life, it's time to uproot and start something new. And I still have no idea what that something will be.

I spend a lot of my life planning - anticipating, getting ready, preparing. I like to imagine how things will go and feel like I'm at least a little bit in control. But I'm realizing, not for the first time, that things happen. Life happens. And it's not always how I plan or imagine. It doesn't always go the way I think it ought to go. And - this is the hard part - that is the wonderful thing about life. God doesn't give us exactly what we ask for; we get what's best for us, even when we can't see that it really is better than what we wanted.

My dear Sister Anamaria has the most comfortable philosophy about transition, which I may have quoted before: "When things change, we must adapt." It's so simple, but it is really profound for me - I don't have to spend my time worrying about how things will change or what I should do. I can just embrace the moment, enjoy whatever is happening. I can make cheese at 10 pm or run around outside with a little boy for an afternoon without planning it. I can just accept whatever comes to me, take it in, and find God in it. And the longer I live here, the easier that is to do.

Peace and love.

Ash Wednesday at the Priory

2011-03-10T14:33:00.000-08:00

Last night, S. Redempta brought some chocolates into the community room. She said, "These are the best chocolates you have ever tasted!" The other sisters and I protested, saying, "We can't eat them today! Share them with us tomorrow, it's Ash Wednesday!" Then S. Sharon asked, discerningly, "How do you know they're the best chocolates we've ever tasted?" And Redempta replied, without missing a beat, "You see, there's one missing."

I'm not sure exactly what this Lent will bring. Things have changed subtly during praise, like using a wood block instead of a gong to signal the beginning of our prayer. We fasted and abstained yesterday. It seems so far like we're doing normal Lent stuff. I've been thinking about how this Lent might change me, how it might bring me closer to God and farther away from the parts of me that keep me away from God. I think I won't know until it's over, but I can already tell that this atmosphere is very different than living in London or at school or at home.

Living with the sisters during the first day and a half of Lent has already surprised me. S. Redempta's chocolates, having doughnuts for dessert and being encouraged to "have lots" yesterday, and even hearing some of the sisters tell stories about the challenges of fasting in their younger years made me realize that most people really don't like fasting. I've often thought I was unusual in my severe discomfort, but being with the sisters - who chose to be faithful Catholics forever and ever, amen - has helped me remember that we're all human, and that's ok. It doesn't make me any worse of a person to feel irritable when I'm hungry - it's perfectly normal.

One of my perpetual challenges in life is to remember that I'm a normal human being - and to be ok with that. My closest friends have always had to remind me to feel and to be ok with feeling. When my parents left and I was so sad but also so happy to be here, Kevin reminded me, "It's ok to feel all that." I push away my feelings because I'm worried about not being strong enough to deal with them the "right" way. I try very hard to keep order and follow the rules, and feelings blur the lines between black and white. I remember writing a story in S. Mara's Writing Essays class about trying to keep my life perfectly white. She told me, very simply and kindly, that colors are what bring excitement to life.

So this Lent, as I live among very colorful sisters who share their joy, "freaking out" (in Anamaria's case), sacrifice, and prayer with me, I am trying to let that color enter my relationship with God more fully. Living here has already added so much variety and depth to all my relationships, but I am hoping this season to focus that beautiful and exciting energy especially on my relationship with God. And if I break a rule, if I stop being strong, if I eat a snack on a day I'm supposed to be fasting, I will admit it like S. Redempta did. Truthfully, but with a sense that I am enjoying the fullness of life God has given me - including the ability to make mistakes.

To close today, I wanted to share two things people have told me in the past week. On Sunday, one of the community's faithful friends sat down and started talking to me. We chatted for a while about life in Washington, and then she paused, looked right into my eyes, and said, "You are a gift from the heart of God." I was a little surprised, but I sincerely replied, "So are you." She smiled and told me, "I know. I just thought you might not know it."

And yesterday, I picked up Anamaria to bring her to school. She rushed into the car, put her bag down, and took a big breath. She looked over at me and said, "Life is movement until we die." It wasn't a morbid or pessimistic statement, it was simply an acknowledgement of her whirlwind life. I learn something from living here every single day.

Peace, love, and happy Lent!

Living with Intention

2011-03-03T13:31:00.000-08:00

It's getting harder to come up with things to write in my blog posts, and I've been pondering why that is. I started looking over my posts from September and October to see why I had so much more to share then, and I think I've figured it out: I'm used to living at the Priory.

Life here in Washington seems perfectly normal to me now. I know how the routine works, I know what is expected of me, I know where the post office and Target and the grocery store are and several different ways to get to each of them. I have prayer and meal times ingrained in my memory. I know how to answer the phone, put away the dishes, help without being obtrusive, and when the best nap times are. I even know a few phrases in Swahili.

Most of all, I am used to living with intention. Living with intention is a concept I hadn't really heard of before I started to associate with Benedictines. I had maybe heard it about recycling or being green, like taking short showers or walking to work. We do those things here: we compost and recycle everything, we conserve water and electricity, we try to carpool or only take a car when necessary, and we try to live in harmony with the natural environment around our home. But, for this community, living intentionally goes farther than that - we close doors quietly to preserve peace and quiet. We invite everyone to offer prayers during the petitions at daily mass. We write thank-you notes for little things. We use affirming, constructive words. We carry someone else's dishes from the table and often perform small acts of caring service. One day, S. Sharon left a pomegranate outside my door. Last night, I made brownies for Anamaria after her big midterm test. The sisters know how to make everyone feel loved, included, and valuable to the community, and it both shows and rubs off.

My lesson, or maybe challenge, for myself today is to value the environment I get to live in for only a few more months. I was talking with Kevin this morning about how much an environment can affect one's whole perspective on life, and I am really blessed to share in this peaceful, loving, affirmative environment. When I get lonely, I sometimes forget there are people just down the hall who love me and who enjoy and value my company. But when I remember, I am always rewarded with a sense of belonging and of being in the right place. I think I resist that because I'm only going to be here for a few more months and it's going to be dreadfully hard to say goodbye to these sisters I love so much - and the closer I get to them, the harder it is to say goodbye.

When Ann Marie was here in December, she asked me, "So you only get close to people you can be with forever?" My initial response was, "Well, yes, of course. How can I let myself get close to people who will leave? Then I'll leave part of myself behind forever." But as I have had to say goodbye to my family and closest friends for months and even a year at a time, I have found a beautiful reassurance in knowing a part of me lives in them, that I have left a part of myself in the people and places I am closest to. So I am trying, not always successfully, to allow myself to be as close as I can to all the sisters and to the students I've met through Campus Ministry at St. Martin's. I know that, after this year, I will always strive to live intentionally to accommodate, serve, and bless the people around me. I have learned that here, and part of me will always live here with the sisters, in peace and intention. And I am so glad to have that be part of who I am.

Peace and love.

Visitors from Home

2011-02-24T11:51:00.000-08:00

Sorry Mom, this one will probably make you cry.

My parents came to visit me for President's Day weekend! I enjoyed their company so very much, and we got to both explore Washington and experience day-to-day life at the Priory. I'll give a little summary of the visit: After lunch on Friday, S. Redempta and I went to wait for my parents' imminent arrival by pacing the street at the end of our driveway. S. Redempta exclaimed hopefully about every gray car we saw until finally we saw one with two waving people in the front seat. My dad parked the car just off the street, and all four of us exchanged hugs and warm welcomes. Redempta helped me settle my mom and dad into their room at the Spirituality Center, and then I led a tour around the Center and the Priory. We had coffee with the Knitters and Spinners, since it was Friday, and then relaxed and talked until mass time. My parents got to meet almost the whole community at dinner that night, and after praise, we talked for a bit and then I let them go to bed since it was very late in Central time and they had been up all day.

On Saturday, we took a trip to the ocean and to Lake Quinault, home of the nation's (and maybe the world's) only temperate rainforest. We walked along the shore, collecting shells and rocks for my sisters and watching the tide come in. I climbed on a huge piece of driftwood in honor of my sister Erica, and my dad ran and touched the water in honor of my sister Alyssa. The day was bright and sunny, and though the wind was a little chilly, we all agreed the walk was exhilarating. Then we drove through immensely tall trees to reach the inland body of water that sustains the temperate rainforest. We had lunch at a beautiful little mountain lodge, and my mom and dad and I talked and talked. Well, my mom and I talked and talked, my dad mostly enjoyed his reuben sandwich, sweet potato fries, and the glorious view of the lake. And the company of his family, of course! Then we took a three-hour hike through the rainforest. We saw lots of birds, trees, moss, and fantastic views of waterfalls. My mom and I talked and talked, and my dad took pictures of the scenery to show his biology class. I was especially proud to have identified a nurse log before he did - yay for being a junior ranger! After seeing everything there was to see, we drove back to Olympia and had dinner at a restaurant right on the Sound - our second meal overlooking water.

It was such a wonderful and full day, and I enjoyed every minute of exploring this new state with my parents. I did miss my sisters because we always take trips together as a whole family, but it also felt to me like I was more of an adult than I used to be. We could talk on the same levels about relationships and experiences and how my life and my family and friends' lives have changed and connected and become what they are today. I still felt like a daughter, but like a daughter who can be a hostess for her parents in her own new world.

On Sunday, we went to praise and mass, and then we spent the afternoon walking around my local haunts - mainly St. Martin's University and the woods around the priory, and of course, Target. My dad identified lots of waterfowl in the SMU ponds, and my mom and I continued to talk about my life here with the sisters. We spent the evening playing Bananagrams and talking about the history of the community and the Benedictines, and we stayed up late processing all the things we'd learned over the weekend - about the sisters, the place I live, my relationships, and how glad my mom and dad were to know what a wonderful place I've been in these past six months.

On Monday morning, my parents and I got to talk to S. Anamaria and Redempta about their experience of America and how they will bring what they have learned here back to Tanzania. It was a fascinating conversation with many stories I hadn't heard before, and all five of us got to laugh and share our lives with one another. After lunch, my mom and dad packed up and took a flight back to Minnesota. I was very sad to see them go, but as I told S. Redempta after they left, I'm not sad to be here, I'm just sad they're gone.

So, my lessons from all this. There are a few, but I'll start with the easiest one: I learned, for the millionth time, how blessed I am to have my parents. I know that they are always and will always be there, supporting me and loving me and sharing the joys and hardships of my life with me. My mom and dad love me unconditionally and completely, and I felt like I was in the presence of God while they were here with me. It was so easy to see why I find comfort in the image of God as a parent after spending the weekend with my parents.

The other really important thing I learned from my parents' visit was to see my life through their eyes. I had this same experience when S. Ann Marie came to visit me in December - I see each member of the St. Placid community through such different and...closer, or more understanding, eyes. I know more about each of the sisters than my visitors do because I live with them, but I learn something new about my sisters or about the relationships I have with them when other people come to see us. When I talked to my mom after she was back in Minnesota, she said, I love the beautiful relationship you have with your sisters, especially Anamaria and Redempta. I always feel more blessed and I recognize how special and wonderful my year here with the sisters is after my visitors come. I know it every day, but I see it through new eyes and it becomes something I can embrace every day - I understand how unusual and how lucky my situation is.

And because of that, I want to end with a couple quotes from Anamaria and Redempta, my daily philosophy teachers. After my parents left, Anamaria told me, "I hope one of your children has your voice. Your parents' are deeper and lower, but yours is high." At first, I was surprised she had noticed something like the music of our voices, but then I thought about her laughter and the quality of her and Redempta's voices and it made sense. A voice is such an important thing in African culture. On Tuesday, I was washing dishes, and S. Redempta came into the kitchen to give me an American high-five. She said, "It is nice to see you smiling again." I asked why she had come, and she said, "Just to see how you are doin." And finally, a little wisdom from my students: "It doesn't matter what grade you get, it matters what you learn."

Peace and love!

Valentines and Slowing Down

2011-02-14T14:10:00.000-08:00

It's Valentine's Day! Which means, besides celebrating love, that we are half-way through February - which also means I have only three months left in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in a pacific and loving monastic community. Where has the time gone?!

Maybe it's too soon to be asking that question, but I started thinking about it after a group of visitors this weekend asked me how long I was going to be here, and I said nine months. I then had to correct myself and say only three more months. They asked me what I have learned so far in the time I've been here, and I tried to narrow it down to the scope of a dinner conversation. What I came up with was a summary my queen-of-conciseness sister Alyssa can be proud of: I've learned how to slow down.

Now, this is a lesson I'm not a huge fan of all the time. Slowing down means taking more time to think about what I'm doing, putting meaning into little actions like stopping to say hello to someone when I pass them in the hall instead of rushing past because I'm on a very important mission - my "very important" missions here can always wait a few minutes. Nothing is so pressing that I must accomplish it NOW, this very moment. This is a feeling I am still, after five and a half months, uncomfortable with. I want to have important things to do! I am so used to having constant demands on my time, if not imposed by my work, then pressed upon me by my need to balance leisure with work. It's not that I don't work here - but the emphasis in a Benedictine community is much more on balance than on the must-get-everything-done-now life I lived in college. When I was in school, having a day to just take a walk and admire the changing light through the trees and watch the birds flit from branch to branch would have been a blessing, but one I couldn't have even enjoyed. I would have worried about what I should be doing, what I would do when I finished my walk, how things would fall into place. Now, I often have an hour or two during the day where I have no demands on my time at all. I am free to take a walk, read poetry, stare out the window, just be in the moment. It's almost like I've needed this extreme change to learn how to just breathe.

And sometimes, when I have time to breathe, I don't want to. Instead of reveling in the moment, enjoying the peace and the atmosphere of prayer and balance that surrounds me, I panic. I feel at loose ends. I get bored. And then I get lonely. It sometimes takes me a long time to remember that this time is a gift, and that I can feel free to just enjoy it. I can read 7 books in a month. I can take a nap and not feel guilty. I can spend time playing games and working on puzzles and just thinking, just dreaming. I can use those things to rejuvenate myself instead of just to relieve the pressures of working working working all the time. And then, because I have time to just be myself, I can also give my time very freely to other people who need it. When I work, I can devote myself entirely to my dear students. When I have afternoon coffee with the sisters, I can totally listen to their conversation and join in and not feel like I need to be somewhere else. When I eat meals or go to praise, I can just be there, living in the moment. I don't have to be worrying about what I'm going to do next, because it will come, and I don't have to worry about being ready for it. I'm still definitely working on this lesson.

I think I have such trouble letting go and slowing down not just because it's habit, but because being busy has always given me a feeling of purpose and meaning. If I'm busy, it means I'm doing something "very important," and that makes me feel like it's worth me getting up in the morning and going through the day with a smile on my face. But I am gradually learning - very gradually - that it is more important for me to BE in each task or activity and with each person than to DO any of the things I do in a day. If I'm not giving all my attention to a job or a person, I'm not fulfilling my purpose of doing or interacting anyway. I think I've always known that, but it's hard for me to live out because I like to know what I'm doing has a positive bearing on who I am. But what I really want is to be able to know that who I am has a positive effect on what I'm doing.

I have started to see the positive effects of this lesson when I remember to follow it. When I let myself be who I am - when I laugh or do something silly or let my emotions out or share stories about myself - I find that it doesn't matter exactly what I do or how I do it, as long as I act genuinely and honestly. The relationships that sustain me most are the ones in which I care more about who I am than what I do. I can love and be loved best when I let myself be instead of worrying about what I'm doing. My boyfriend Kevin can attest to that: when we first started talking on the phone, I would never say much because I was worried about saying something silly or bringing up something he didn't want to talk about. I was much more concerned about what and how I was "doing" the conversation than who I was "being" in the conversation. With a little encouragement and persistence from Kevin, I have been able to be myself and make our relationship much deeper and closer. Happy Valentine's Day!

But after thinking about all this, I think the most important person to be myself with is God. I've been working on not closing myself to God, like I do so often when I feel upset or vulnerable or out of control. I'm pretty good at telling God exactly what I want to make the situation better, but I'm not so good at listening to God's answers. As I learn to be myself with more people, I am also learning to be myself with God, to let God be my heavenly Valentine. I'm still learning, but it becomes easier when I slow down and stop worrying. As S. Anamaria always says, I will try.

Peace and lots of LOVE!

Lessons from Koinonia

2011-02-01T09:37:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I've written - last week got away from me with preparations for my retreat and lots of school work to keep me busy. My work with the African sisters continues to be fulfilling and rewarding - Anamaria has really learned how to write introductions and conclusions, and she does very well with transitions when she remembers to put them in! Her enthusiasm for and dedication to learning inspires me every day. I have never seen anyone work as hard as she does. Except maybe Redempta, who is still plowing forward with her masters thesis and is passionately trying to revamp the Tanzanian school system so students can succeed on the National Exams, a standardized test that didn't go as well as anticipated this year. They both invest in their school work wholeheartedly, not because they want to get an A, but because they care about what they're learning and how they can use what they learn when they go home. I sometimes feel like I should do my undergrad again with their mindset - I think I would come away with some very different lessons. But maybe I'll get a chance to try again next year...we'll just have to wait and see.

But the most important thing I want to share today is my experience of a retreat through St. Martin's University's Campus Ministry. The retreat, as my post today, was entitled Koinonia, the Greek word for "intimate community." Since I've been part of a monastic community for the past five months, I thought it was a great time to share what I've learned about the Benedictine value of community with students at a Benedictine college. I was one of four non-student leaders with a group of 18 students. We spent the weekend together and worked toward establishing a new community of faith and loving relationships.

The whole experience was amazing, but I'll share just a few highlights with you now, the things that really taught me something. First was our mass. I go to mass almost every day here at the Priory. It's part of the routine, part of the daily rhythm of work and prayer. So I've gotten used to it; I've started just going through the motions and not really being engaged. But when we had mass on the retreat, all 22 of us plus the priest sat around a little table in a little room. We were all kind of squished together, sitting on the floor. For the homily, the priest asked us to share our impressions of the readings. When we said the Our Father, we all stood up and put our arms around each other, like a huge group hug. I felt like the whole room was alive with Jesus's presence and His love. Everyone gave each other huge hugs during the sign of peace, and even the students who weren't Catholic felt very included and welcome. After the mass, we talked about the feeling of sharing a meal with our family - that's what mass felt like. It really inspired me to come back to the Priory and recognize that's what happens for me every day: my whole family of sisters is gathered around God's table to share a meal and share our faith.

On the last evening of the retreat, *I'm not supposed to share this so don't tell anyone who goes to SMU!* we read letters the retreatants' parents and friends had written to them. I got to read to each student in my small group. After they all dispersed to read their letters, I kept thinking about all the people in my life who would have sent me such a letter. The parade of people who walked through my mind just kept going - I thought of my family and friends but also about all the people who have supported me while I've been out here. The tears just kept coming as I realized how very loved and blessed I am to know God's love through so many people in my life. One of the other leaders came up and asked me if I was sad, and I said through my tears, "I'm not sad. I just feel so blessed." I felt like I didn't deserve this parade of loving people because I have not always accepted other people's love. I have pushed away so many people in my life because I'm too scared to let them into my heart. I worry that if I show my true self, they won't love me anymore. But God showed me that wasn't true by reminding me of so many people who love me even though I don't keep in very good contact with them or share myself with them all the time. God showed me both forgiveness and love because I opened myself to my new community and felt the love their family and friends had shown them.

And finally, the last highlight of the retreat for me was my small group. I got to know four students really well, not just what they do or what they like, but who they are and where God is in each of their lives. All four of them were willing to share their joys and struggles with the group, and they enabled me to share myself, too. Since I came to Washington, I have been looking for ways to be connected with more people my age, and this group of students showed me all I have to do is be myself and be open to receiving God's love through other people. We established strong relationships quickly because we had the foundation and the safety of all working on our relationships with God and admitting that none of us are perfect. All of us could be honest, be ourselves, and feel loved. I felt so blessed to have been a part of their group.

Since I've returned from the retreat, Kevin and I have been talking about being open to each other. I am a perfectionist. I like everything to be in order, to be right, to be in its place. I like grammar and checklists and calendars and plans. I like to have control over things. But I am continuing to learn that, while being organized has its perks and its place, relationships with other people and with God are not organized. They are real. They are human. And the only way I can really be in a deep, complete relationship with God, with my family members, with Kevin, and with my friends, is if I admit that I am human too. I make mistakes. I don't always know what to say or do. I don't have all the right answers. But that's ok.

On a retreat I went on during my junior year at St. Ben's, we made mosaics out of tiles. My mosaic was square. It had a border of tiles around the outside, symmetrically balanced but with little spaces in the corners. Inside that border was another square with dark blue corners, all closed except for one space. I made this space by breaking some of the tiles, so there was only a tiny, jagged opening in the square. And then, in the very center of this square, was a blue tile with a flower imprinted on it. This flower was simple. It was pretty. It was a little chipped on the edges. When I shared it with my group, I told them the flower represented my heart, my soul. The squares around the flower represented the walls I have put up around my heart. The walls have cracks, but they are small, hard to find, and not easy to get through. I told them that God could see the whole mosaic, but that other people only saw the outer wall or the inner wall; hardly anyone saw the flower inside.

My lesson today is one I haven't learned yet. When I prayed at Koinonia, I had an image of my heart broken open like an eggshell. I had broken it. And standing in the middle of the broken shells was Jesus, reaching up and out. For me to love with God's love, I need to break down the walls around my heart. I have to stop trying to protect the blue flower inside and start sharing it! I want to show that image of Jesus reaching out to other people through my own actions. I trap myself by my desire to be perfect - I don't let the walls come down for fear that what's inside might not be beautiful yet. But I have to trust myself and trust God and trust that the people who love me will love me no matter what. As Kevin told me last week, I'm not damaged goods. I am who God made me to be. And the only way I can share God with other people is to let Him shine through me, to tear down the walls and let people see who I really am.

Thank you all for your support and love. I am truly blessed to know each one of you.

Peace and love, peace and love.

This Is The Day

2011-01-20T10:59:00.000-08:00

My goodness, life has kept me busy since I last wrote! With a new semester full of classes for Anamaria and Redempta, getting back into the routine of prayer and work, preparing for a retreat at St. Martin's University, and staying in touch with everyone back home, I have been blessed with full and fulfilling days.

My dear African sisters are working hard as ever. S. Anamaria is writing an independent research paper, taking two classes (professional writing and methods of teaching English language learners), and observing - and eventually teaching - college-level ELL classes. She is cheerful and full of laughs because she enjoys what she's learning about and it's so relevant to her quickly approaching return home to Tanzania. She'll leave St. Placid about a month after I do this spring. It isn't easy - yesterday she told me, "My bones is coming unscrewed!" from the long hours sitting in front of a computer. But she is eager to enjoy each day she has left in America and to anticipate her homecoming. S. Redmepta is a little less optimistic because she still has two more semesters after this one, but she is enjoying taking a counseling class and finishing up her thesis work this semester. She and I have enjoyed making puppy chow and laughing about our cultural differences - she scoffs at my measuring cups and I revel in her ecstatic love of peanut butter.

I have really enjoyed getting back into the rhythm of daily praise. My first couple days back, I was a little overwhelmed as I returned to the extremely regular schedule we have here. At home, nothing was ever the same two days in a row, and here everything is the same almost every day! But once I got used to it again, I found the peace and the power of unity I experienced before as I pray with the sisters. Speaking the same words, listening to the same readings, and making time for God several times a day gives the community a sense of togetherness and wholeness. I am so thankful to be able to share this lifestyle with the sisters.

I've been reading a lot - Stephanie lent me the Hunger Games trilogy, and I've been reading Mary Oliver's poetry. I've also started taking daily walks. Washington seems so much warmer after spending two weeks in frozen Minnesota, and it's been a good way for me to enjoy the scenery and get out of the house a little. And I don't want my bones to start coming unscrewed like Anamaria's! But my walks lead me to my lesson for the day.

Yesterday, the sun was shining when I woke up - the first time that had happened since I returned to Washington! I sat staring through the skylights during morning praise, soaking in the blue sky and the sunlight on the tall trees. As soon as I could, I put on my coat and went outside into the brilliant, dazzling sunlight. Everything glows here when it's sunny because of the moss - all the trees radiate a soft green light even though their leaves are gone. The sunlight is refracted between the trees, creating gentle rays of sunshine that land on the paths and clear ground. But most of all, the sky is blue instead of gray, and it gives a new light to everything. I was drawn outside; I couldn't have stayed away if I wanted to. And as soon as I stepped into the sunlight, a song popped into my head, one my sisters and I used to sing for my grandma: "This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad." As I walked through the lit-up trees, the birds started singing. I had to stop and close my eyes. The sun warmed my face, the birdsong and the hymn played through my mind, and I just stood in the middle of the path and was thankful to be alive, to be in this moment, in this place. It was a moment I hadn't anticipated, I hadn't thought of, I hadn't planned. I hadn't looked for it, I hadn't worked for it, I hadn't even wanted it. All I had done was listen to whatever was drawing me outside - I was open to hearing that little voice inside me that said, "Megan. I have a gift for you. Come receive it." Even though I didn't hear those words directly, God spoke to me through the sunshine. I had no idea it was even happening until I was there, surrounded by the beauty and glory of creation.

My friend Mari asked me yesterday how we can know we are validated by God - how we know God loves us for who we are. I told her that God tells us how much He loves us all the time, if only we take the time to open our eyes, our ears, our minds, and our hearts to listen. If we do that, we can feel sure that this day, this moment, whatever it may be, is the one God has made for us especially. Not because of anything we've done to deserve it. Just because we are God's beloved children.

Peace and love.

Bittersweet Transition

2011-01-11T11:41:00.000-08:00

I'm going to start out this post with my lesson. It's a hard, two-fold lesson, one I had a lot of trouble with this past December, but one I tried really hard to put into practice over the past two weeks.

I went home to Minnesota two days after Christmas. I got to spend two weeks surrounded by the people I love most, drive through blizzards and freezing rain, and sleep in a double bed. For the first week, I had no trouble enjoying being home. I was thrilled by the sharp, dry cold; I was so happy to be in familiar places; I loved developing and deepening my closest relationships. Then, suddenly, I had been home for a week and I only had a week left. Time went so quickly! At first, I was really sad - how could I leave after just coming home? There wasn't enough time to do everything I wanted to do. But I kept pushing the thought of how soon I'd have to leave out of my mind - I wanted to just enjoy the time I had and not worry about how fast it was passing. I worked hard to live in the moment, in the day that I was currently experiencing, and to just take things as they came.

The essence of this lesson is to be content with what I have, now. And not just to be content, but to embrace and love and invest my whole heart in the moment I'm living, right now. I could do that more easily at home than I was able to do at the Priory during December because I had anticipated and wanted to be home for so long, but also because it was such a short time. I didn't run out of energy to invest in the people and places I only got to visit for two weeks. It was a sprint that I'm still tired from! Being here again is much more like a marathon - it's a much longer time, and I have to find ways to invest enough in each part of my time here - in my work, in the sisters, in my prayer and alone time, and in my communication with my loved ones. It's a trickier balance here because it's long-term - I have to remind myself to embrace every single day here, because it will soon come to an end as well. The first four months of my time in Washington went very quickly, and I know these next few will fly by as well. I want to really live here, in the moment, in each day. I want to be fully invested in my life here and not wish or worry it away by thinking of when it will end. It won't always be easy, but I want to treasure every gift God gives me so freely through my life here - and all I have to do is be open to receiving those gifts.

This brings me to the second part of my lesson. I was trying to describe my feelings as I flew from Minnesota to Washington for the third time in 5 months. I was so sad to leave my family, my boyfriend, and my best friends, and I let the tears come as I sat waiting to leave the airport. It was bitter to say goodbye to them for another long stretch of time. But when I got off the plane in Seattle and got nearer to St. Placid, I knew the sisters would be waiting for me just like my family had waited for me at home. And when I arrived, I was overcome by such incredible hospitality and love. Three of the sisters welcomed me home with hugs and warm greetings (even S. Mary, although it was almost an hour past her bedtime! She had insisted they play Bananagrams in my honor until I got home!). I had flowers and little gifts waiting outside my door, the heat in my room was turned up, and everyone wanted to give me hugs and tell me how glad they were that I was home again. And it really did feel like I was home. It was so sweet, such a comfortable and loving return, and I felt so much joy and peace to be back. Kevin has been trying to tell me for months that bittersweet is a wonderful feeling - I'm still not sure I savor the tension between the two, but the sweetness definitely softens the bitterness, so I can appreciate it more now.

I wrote a poem yesterday that describes this transition and kind of summarizes my lessons. I'll leave you with it.

The Bridge

I am a bridge

connecting two worlds

I am an intersection

an exchange

a collision

a fusion

of who I am

who I was

who I will be

I pull myself into more than one life

I pour myself out at both ends

I am sustained at both ends

by strong connections

pillars of support

solid, strong foundations

But in the middle

when I travel inside myself

when I am suspended between my worlds

not fully in one or the other

I lose sight of my support

I wander, panicking, high above the rushing water

that would sweep me away if I fell

often forgetting that

I am not alone, walking tensely through darkness

Someone walks with me

offering me His hand

holding a light

showing me the way

if only I would stop staring into the rushing water

and clinging to my own fragile railings

if only I would take His hand

and let him guide me

walk with me

journey through the darkness, lighting my way

if only I would let go

and trust my friend and companion

my lover

my Savior

Peace and love.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-25T14:42:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas! I feel like I have been waiting so long for this day to come - we really do the anticipation part of Advent thoroughly here at the Priory! I'm also really looking forward to going home to celebrate with my family and friends, so that has added to the sometimes impatient waiting I've been doing over the past month.

I've had a variety of feelings this week as Christmas approached and finally came. The beginning of the week was filled with busy shopping trips and finishing school work and just running errands. I wrapped presents and wrote cards and started to wish we didn't have a ban on listening to Christmas music. We decorated Christmas trees on Tuesday and Wednesday, and we finally got to turn on the Christmas lights on Tuesday night, the solstice. I started whistling all the time because I always had Christmas songs in my head-they subconsciously slipped out since we couldn't sing them! I kept counting down the days until December 27th, when I will fly home, and I really kept myself busy helping and baking and getting into the spirit of Christmas in Washington.

Then it was Christmas Eve. I managed to find things to do all day - something I learned from my Thanksgiving experience here - and I wasn't homesick at all! I just enjoyed the day as my experience of Christmas in a monastery. But then came Christmas Eve mass. It was beautiful, and the chapel was packed, and it was all so familiar and timeless. As we finished the service, we sang seven or eight Christmas carols, and during about the second one, my eyes started to water. I had looked to the side, expecting to see my family ready to break into harmony with me on Angels We Have Heard on High, and they weren't there. It got harder to keep singing in unison, but I was singing with my sisters in Christ, and I made it through.

Opening presents was also bittersweet - I loved watching the care and time all the sisters put into their gifts for their special sister (we drew names at Thanksgiving). Every gift was thoughtful and special, and I could feel the love in the community as everyone shared what they had received and given. My chin trembled a little as I thought of my family - I've never not spent this day with them before - but I was surrounded by the love of my Washington family, and they filled me with joy.

A couple things have stuck with me this week. We prayed Psalm 27 three times over the past few days, and the line "Be strong, and let your heart take courage" bolstered my spirits each time we read it. I know that I will always remember this Christmas, and I want the memory to be one of the shared love and joy of the community, not my impatience to get home. Which brings me to my lesson (yes, there is a lesson, even on Christmas Day). Yesterday, we had a reading from Meister Eckhart, and it ended with the sentence: "Eternity is now." I have a tendency to let my mind wander during praise, but this line echoed through my head long after the reading was finished. I was struck by how much I've spent thinking about "in a couple weeks" or "in a few days" or "soon" - my mind is always in the future, dreaming, planning, hoping, wishing. I started thinking about what I'm doing NOW to bring Jesus's love to the world - not what I'm going to do or what I'd like to do or what may happen, but what I'm doing now, at this moment, during this day, to let God work through me. And I realized I don't concentrate on that very often.

I like to plan things. I like to make sure things are going to work out just right. I spend so much of my time thinking about how to make things go smoothly. But this Christmas, I have begun to learn that I can't just live in my plans or dreams. I can spend thousands of hours thinking about what it will be like to finally arrive in my loved ones' arms, but that doesn't make the moment come any sooner - and it takes away the time I could be giving to the people around me now. And the people in my physical community, right here and now, are so wonderfully loving and thoughtful. My service and presence here changes the community, and the way I choose to love and give to them makes a difference.

The essence of my Christmas lesson is this: eternity is now. God is now. Love is now. Sometimes it's scary to let myself be open to now - I'd rather plan for later. But I am learning to find the gifts in the now because they are eternal gifts. God is always giving me strength and courage and love through the sisters here - all I have to do is be willing to receive it. Not later, when I've planned for it or made time for it. Now.

Peace and love, hope and joy, and every blessing! Merry Christmas!

Paradoxes

2010-12-16T14:35:00.000-08:00

It has been quite a busy week here in the Priory! We are racing to the end of the semester, preparing for Christmas, and looking for balance and love in everything.

I spent last weekend at my friend Stephanie's apartment. We watched lots of movies, ate tons of puppy chow, and bought a real Christmas tree - something I'd never done before! It was raining, not snowing, but it was a very Washington experience.

Monday was our monthly day of silence. I always love these days because they invite us all to slow down, to live in the now, and to reflect on where God is in our lives. I checked out a book of Mary Oliver's poetry and took a walk in the woods, and I felt a real sense of peace about being here. Every time we have a silent day and I take the time to really listen to what my heart is saying, I find peace. I remember often talking to my college friends about how hard it is to listen when we pray instead of just saying, "Please, God, give me ___" or "Please, God, let ___ happen" or "Please, God, keep ___ safe." I think listening to God is one of the hardest things for me to do - it's scary to let go of my own plans and hopes and dreams and say, "Please, God, show me Your way" or even "Your will be done." I want MY will to be done! But I am learning, slowly but surely, that God's way brings me many more gifts and blessings and peace-filled moments than my way ever could. I am learning this paradox: by letting go of my own limited plans, I enable myself to receive God's plan - something much stronger to hold onto.

And then: Tuesday and Wednesday were the most wonderful days I have had in Washington! On Tuesday, S. Anamaria got her grades back for two of her classes, and she got an A+ in student teaching! She was so excited and I was SO proud of her - we went straight from the university to the grocery store to get brownie mix because brownies are her absolute favorite thing in the world. Here are a few pictures of our celebration:

We ate almost the whole pan!

Oh, the excitement!!

The guest of honor


Anamaria, Me, and Redempta

So that was our celebration on Tuesday, which was so much fun. But the best moments really happened the next day. I had been working hard with Anamaria on a final paper. She told me all her ideas, I wrote them down, and she wrote her paper from my notes. As she was talking, I could tell she was very excited about the ideas in the paper, but I waited to see how they would morph when they appeared in writing. As I read, I found her ideas coming alive - her passion about the subject enabled her to really dig deep into her vocabulary and find the words to express her ideas clearly. When I told her she had done a wonderful job, she said, "Really? I got it?" And I was able to tell her, "Yes! You got it!"

I also worked with Redempta that day. She gave me the first section of her thesis and said her professor had asked her to work on transitions. I felt like I was right back in the Writing Center at St. Ben's, sitting down with a client to wade through the intricacies of American essay organization. This session, however, was very different from my previous work in one way - I knew my client as a whole person. I know what S. Redempta likes to eat, what time she goes to bed, what makes her laugh, what makes her frustrated. We spent a long time working through the process of thesis-details-summarization-transition, still a very foreign concept to my dear African Mama whose traditional stories go in much more rounded and exploratory directions (and are so very thrilling to listen to). I kept repeating the structure, repeating the idea that we need something to CONNECT all these wonderful facts, and she kept asking, "Really? Here, too?" Finally, we reached the end of the paper. I told her she now needed to summarize the whole paper so she could move on to the next part. She looked at me like I was crazy - summarize 15 pages? I told her she could do it, she just had to think about what we'd been doing with her paragraphs. She thought for a moment, and then she looked at me again, this time with dawning comprehension. And then she said, "I get it!! Give me a big hug!!" I happily complied.

Those two moments, watching the ideas Anamaria and Redempta had come to light, watching the pieces fall together inside their minds, gave me the feeling that I am doing what I was meant to do. I feel like I am here for a reason, that my gifts are most useful here and now. I had such a feeling of intellectual fulfillment yesterday afternoon, like I had realized my potential and done the very best I could do with what I have. I poured all my energy and knowledge whole-heartedly into these two wonderful women, and they were able to take what I gave them and make it into something new and useful and enlightening.

And this brings me to my second paradox. I have talked a few times in this blog about how much I think giving and receiving are the same thing. I know that when I give of myself, I always receive something enriching in return - serving this community builds me up from the inside. But I was thinking today as I talked with my spiritual director that it goes the other way - receiving is the same as giving, too. I often find it much scarier to receive than to give - when you give, you have some control over what you're doing and you can measure the outcome and try again if you don't get it right the first time. But when you receive, you have to be open enough to take what God gives you. Receiving from God, listening to God, means you may not have a say in what you get, and that's often hard for me to accept. But as I was thinking about the peace and joy I have opened myself to receive here, I found that by actively receiving, I am allowing myself to give. When I take something in and allow it to change me, I give myself a way to grow (instead of remaining protected but stagnant).

During this Advent season, we've been singing about being vessels of God's love, like Mary. At first, this was a problematic image for me, because a vessel just holds things - water sits in a pitcher, the end. It didn't seem like a very active or important thing to be. But as I thought about it more, I realized the end of the pitcher's function doesn't come with holding water - you pour the water in, and maybe some ice. The pitcher changes, gets cold and has condensation running down its sides. And then, the pitcher pours cool water into someone's glass, enabling them to take it in and let it change them. I think God's love be the water if I let myself be the pitcher - if I let myself receive, change, and give back.

Now, to live this out...maybe that will be my next lesson!

Peace and love to all.

When Things Change, We Must Adapt!

2010-12-10T16:11:00.000-08:00

I had a dream last night that I was home for Thanksgiving with all my aunts and uncles, and I was last in line for the mashed potatoes. When I went to scoop the fluffy whiteness onto my plate, there was just a tiny bit left around the edges, and I realized the food wasn't mashed potatoes, but rice. I kind of shrugged and just put the rice on my plate, and then there was enough for a full serving and even more. I put soy sauce on my rice and thought, "Well, this is fine I guess, but it's not like usual Thanksgiving."

When I woke up, I realized this is how I feel a lot of the time this Advent season: "This is fine I guess, but it's not like usual." I was describing to S. Redempta this morning how my house would be decorated if I was at home, what kind of cookies we'd be making and what music we'd listen to and where we'd go shopping. It made me a little homesick and lonely.

Then I spent the afternoon working with S. Anamaria. She's been working SO hard this whole semester, but especially this week on a reflection paper about her student teaching experience. The theme that keeps emerging in her writing is how things changed when she taught - how her lesson plans never went quite according to plan, how the kids reacted either positively or negatively, how she was constantly learning as she went. As we sat down and I commented on the beautiful sunshine streaming through the windows and lamented the impending rainstorm for the weekend, she told me in her very matter-of-fact voice, "When things change, we must adapt, Megan." I think she is the best philosophy professor I have ever had. I thought about all the changes she has had to adapt to in the past semester, in the past 8 years she's been in America, in coming to the convent in Africa from a very poor childhood, in studying education instead of nursing like she had planned, in eating processed American food instead of rice and beans every day, in having electricity and running water all the time instead of for a few hours each day, and in countless other ways. And here I sit, moping around because I have to miss Christmas with my family once!

I have never been good at embracing change. As S. Monika reminded me last night, there are people in the world who like to plan things and make decisions and have all their doors closed (we extreme J's on the Myers-Briggs scale), and there are people who like to have their options wide open. I forget that sometimes because my three best friends aren't here to demonstrate the P side of the scale to me every day (and many of the sisters are pretty J, too). But as change is forced upon me, and as I often have to sit with myself and listen to the thoughts I'd rather not give myself time to think, I am at least realizing how challenging it is for me to change. I don't know that I'm getting any better at adapting, because I still have days when I'm just sad and all I want is to be home with my family and friends like usual. But I'm acknowledging the sadness, the emptiness, recognizing my human weaknesses, and letting the sisters and God just be with me as I learn how to be more fully myself. And I'm letting myself be ok with being human and feeling both happiness and sadness.

So. I'm trying to take Anamaria's motto to heart. I am trying to let my heart be open to change, and to be willing to adapt. I'm trying to change my subconscious, "Well, this is fine, but it's not usual" to "Well, this is something wonderful and new to try!" I'm also trying to remember that once I accept something new, it is often more fulfilling and rewarding than I originally thought - like my dream-rice multiplying on my plate. And it is wonderful to be here, and I am so thankful to belong to this community. I couldn't be in a more hospitable place to learn life lessons.

Peace and love.

Missing Picture

2010-12-07T09:13:00.000-08:00

I meant to include this in yesterday's post. This is me learning the proper way to knit from Jan, one of the Knitters and Spinners. She always has good advice and lots of wisdom for me!

Learning to Knit Myself

2010-12-06T10:43:00.000-08:00

"The important thing is not so much what you knit as what happens to you while you knit it.

Where the interior journey takes you. What you find there.

How you are transformed when you come back home."

--Susan Gordon Lydon

This past week, S. Ann Marie Biermaier, the director of the Benedictine Women Service Corps, came to visit me here in Lacey. We had a really wonderful week together, visiting with the sisters and with each other about how the program is going and how the people we know at home and here in Washington are doing. Watching Ann Marie interact with my Washington sisters gave me a lot of perspective and joy about being here with each of these wonderful people. Srs. Damaris, Mary, Nathalie, Margaret Ann, and Rosemarie all wanted to hear news of their classmates, and Ann Marie was able to tell them all about their Minnesota sisters. All of them absolutely lit up as they shared memories and stories of their time in the novitiate together at home. It was so fun to just listen to all of them and watch their faces shine with happiness - and I could picture many of the places they talked about, like the St. Cloud Hospital and St. Scholastica's Convent for the retired sisters of St. Ben's Monastery. It was a gift for all of us to share.

Ann Marie also brought the whole community together in the evenings - we stayed up talking and laughing way past S. Mary's bedtime! S. Lucy and S. Sharon shared memories of going to school at St. Ben's with Ann Marie, and Ss. Monika and Maureen reminisced about their visits to Minnesota. So many of the sisters here are connected to my favorite place in the world, and I really got to see those connections come alive through Ann Marie. The Tanzanian sisters also really connected with her because all three of them are so involved in education. Ann Marie's visit renewed my vision of all the sisters here and made me feel so privileged to be with them, be loved by them, and share my humble gifts with them.

I was also able to reflect on my purpose here during Ann Marie's visit. I had begun to lose sight of the meaning of my work a little while I was sick and not working - I was so lonely and I couldn't grasp the real importance of my presence out here in Washington. I just wanted to be home because I wasn't helping anyone by being here. But as I actively re-entered community life with Ann Marie to bridge home and here, I remembered how wonderful and fun and edifying life is here at the Priory. I remembered how much I enjoy being here and how much I learn and grow and laugh every day, especially with my African Mamas (a term of endearment and "big respect" for my wonderful sisters). On Friday night, we made puppy chow and watched a video of Tanzanian songs and dances - we danced ourselves, right in our tv room, and laughed and forgot everything else for a while. It was absolutely vivifying.

I also decided to start a new knitting project. The group of ladies that meets on Fridays, the Priory Knitters and Spinners, make prayer shawls for people in the Lacey area. After two scarves, I decided I was ready to graduate to something a little bigger - both in size and in meaning. S. Monika gave me a book the Knitters use to prepare them to share the ministry of prayer shawls, and I found the quote that begins this post. I've never been a huge crafter - I read, mostly. But making something for someone else, something you can feel and hold in your hands and watch grow into fullness, takes me out of myself. I'm not just turning pages to soak in more information about the world (though I still do plenty of that, too). I'm giving my energy, my love and time, to someone I don't know yet, but who will someday be comforted by the presence of my work. And not only am I able to give part of myself away, I also receive my own gifts. Knitting is often a time to be by myself, to think and wonder where my shawl will go, and to invest my peaceful and comforting energy into the fabric but also into myself. And knitting with the sisters and the women of the group is always a blessing - they willingly share their endless, kind wisdom with me.

So I guess what I've learned this week is multi-faceted (thanks for the great word, Mom!). First of all, working and doing and being actively involved in the community is central to who I am. Without meaningful work to do, I am just a shell, and I have nothing to give to others or to myself. I just get lonely and depressed. But underneath - or maybe knit into - my work is my interior journey. What I do is not as important as who I become while I do it. And here, I am given such a priceless opportunity to delve into who I am becoming - I have time to reflect and such a hospitable environment to grow in. I have extraordinarily rich soil to root myself in, to nourish me, and to support me as I journey along this path of life. As I open myself to receive these gifts, I am also able to give them away. This is something I've been trying to grasp since my very first post on this blog - true giving and true receiving are often the very same thing.

Peace and love!

A Week in L-11

2010-11-29T11:41:00.000-08:00

After the beautiful snowfall we had last week, I came down with a cough. This very usual winter phenomenon did not take me by surprise, as both Anamaria and Redempta have been sick and "sharing air" with me, but the way it took hold of my whole life was a bit of a shock.

I spent Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday in my bedroom, L-11. I pulled my desk up to my recliner, watched movies, tried to read books, and dozed on and off. I wasn't really-really sick, but in order to protect the vulnerable immune systems in the community, I stayed in my room. On Tuesday morning, I attempted to go to the store to get some more cough medicine, but a very concerned S. Damaris told me it was impossible to get up our driveway because of the snow. The two inches of snow!! My Minnesota mind rebelled, but I walked outside and discovered that it wasn't the snow, but the slick ice covering everything (and not treated with sand or salt) that was keeping me homebound. I retreated back to L-11, pulled my covers over my head, and tried not to think about being confined. How many times did I wish during my college years to have just a moment, a day to do nothing? It was a gift, a beautiful opportunity to be alone, to think and be.

I discovered, however, that I was not prepared to take this opportunity. As my friend Laura so accurately put it, "You hate being sick!" The physical discomfort doesn't bother me as much as the debilitation it causes. I panic about having nothing to do, about not being able to do things. As I sat in my chair, swaddled in blankets and surrounded by books, cough drops, tea cups, and my computer, I tried to count my blessings. I tried to be thankful for everything I have been given. I tried to see the beauty in having time to recover and be healthy again. But my selfishness got the better of me most of the time. I was lonely, I was trapped, I couldn't do anything, I was coughing. And then it was Thanksgiving. I was away from home, from my family and all the things I usually do and love. The loneliness hit pretty hard. It was the first time I've thought about just giving up and going home.

The next morning, though, the rain came. That Washington constant, the always-dependable healing tears. The roads were finally clear enough to drive on without anyone worrying about me, so I took myself to the mall and pretended I was part of secular society again. I took a wrong turn on the way home and enjoyed a lovely detour through the misty forested countryside. I felt alive again, like I could do something for myself (like find the right road once I'd lost it), like I was a human being capable of life outside L-11. The rain was truly vivifying, and its familiarity gave me hope and strength to not just get through this holiday month but to really live it and embrace it.

I've learned this week that it's easy to get off-track. It's easy to be self-pitying and lonely and homesick. And sometimes, as Beate reminded me, I need to acknowledge those feelings. But after I cry, after the rain falls, I need to wipe the tears away and see the bright, shining world around me. Life here is so beautiful. I am surrounded by amazing women who see the extraordinary in every ordinary thing. I am loved and cared for and showered with blessings. S. Redempta has started calling me "Mama Sinner" (pronounced "See-nah" if you're from Tanzania) because it's a sign of "big respect" in Africa. My work is valued and significant - I feel like what I do matters. I have freedom to grow and love and learn here. So even though it was hard to see at the time, a week in L-11 really did teach me something. As Kevin put it, "Tears are healing, hugs are building, love is binding, and God is providing."

Peace and love!

Let Us Walk in God's Light

2010-11-22T10:10:00.000-08:00

This morning, we prayed the title of this post in one of the psalms, and I couldn't help but notice how beautifully light it was outside the chapel windows: it's snowing!

It has been snowing almost steadily since yesterday afternoon, and I have never been so excited to see the familiar cold whiteness of home. It makes the whole world light up in brightness, even though it's cloudy. The snow is so much lighter than the endless rain that sucks all the light out of the world and makes everything dull. Today the whole world is shining and bright and reflective. Here are some pictures:

The African sisters think I'm absolutely nuts to like the snow. They keep telling me: "Sinner! You have made the snow come!" (They've started calling me Sinner because they think it's so funny.)

But I love the snow here like I've never loved it in Minnesota because it's familiar but unexpected. I feel like God is sending me a little home comfort as I prepare to spend the holidays away from my family and my usual traditions. And finally, it's not raining. The trees are frosted and beautiful and light instead of dripping, dripping, dripping.

God is the Journey

2010-11-19T11:25:00.000-08:00

Well, dear readers, this has been quite the week! My job description has grown to encompass just about everything...but let me start at the beginning.

Saturday and Sunday rolled by as usual - lots of phone conversations with Kevin (the young man from home who has melted my heart), a basketball game with Stephanie, homework with Anamaria, and visiting in the community room. Let me elaborate on Kevin: we have been talking for several months now, and our relationship has grown deeper and become stronger even over the distance of 4 states. I have been learning how to love out here in Washington, both from the sisters and from him. I promise a longer post about this soon!

Ok, back to my insane week. Monday was busy with running errands and making sure all the work was done for class. As I came to the end of the day, I finally returned the car keys to their proper drawer and headed to my room to talk to Kevin and read. I was reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being when the lights started to flicker. I looked up from my book and noticed the very strong wind blowing against the trees and the house. S. Mary knocked on my door to make sure I had a flashlight, and then the lights went out. I left my lamp on so I would know when the power was back in the middle of the night and didn't think much about it as I fell asleep.

Well, my lamp never turned back on. I woke up in a cold, dark room and ran to see if I could still take a warm shower. Luckily, we have a gas water heater! I bundled up and ventured up the pitch-dark stairs to see if I could find some coffee. Luckily, we have a gas burner in the kitchen, so we could heat water and have instant. We had morning praise in the community room, which has a wall of windows and was lighter than the chapel. Just before praise began, I was talking to S. Monika, and we both heard a vase on the table rattle and the floor vibrate. We looked at each other, wondering, and found out later that it was an earthquake! Then I took S. Anamaria and Redempta to school for the day so they could have internet and power (and so I could charge my phone and do some work). Redempta and I stayed until about 3:00, when we figured the power must be back on. We drove home only to find chilly darkness awaiting us! Luckily, it wasn't raining, just cold and cloudy. The sisters canceled mass, and we had to use flashlights to read our prayer-books at 5:00. We had a candle-lit dinner, and Stephanie decided to go home early since the phones weren't working. Finally, after 21 hours, the lights came back on! I have never been so happy to see a functional lightbulb. After dinner, I went to pick up Anamaria from class and told her, very enthusiastically, that the power was finally back. She gave me her little look and said, "Every night in Africa we have no light." I was abashed. I take so many privileges for granted.

The next day, Wednesday, I worked in the library and the kitchen - fully lit and heated. It was a nice long day of using my youth and energy to help the sisters. Then, at 4:30, I took S. Redempta and Anamaria to school so they could cook for the Taste of Cultures festival which would be held the next day at St. Martin's. They had bought all the groceries and thought they'd be done in "couple or three" hours. ("A couple" always means 2 for them.) I talked on the phone a bit, read my book, and, when I hadn't heard from them in 5 hours, called the sisters. They said they would still be a while, maybe an hour, because "it takes long time to wash dish." I said I'd come get them in an hour. So 10:30, my usual bedtime, rolled around, and I took the car over to the university. S. Redempta met me outside and took me to a dungeony, cold little kitchen. They were only done cooking a third of their sambusas! They were making a traditional African food - meat and vegetables wrapped in an egg-roll shell and deep-fried. So I attempted to help, as per my job description and my tired eyes so we could all get home and go to bed. My "help" ended up drying out the wrappers so they didn't seal well and the shells exploded in the oil...whoops. But Anamaria was endlessly patient and particular about resealing them and making sure each one was well-shaped and would stay together. Redempta fried them all, adopting the American attitude of "just do it." We finished at midnight, and as I drove them home, they both started talking about how hungry they were and how much they had to go to the bathroom - they hadn't eaten anything or taken a break since I dropped them off almost 8 hours earlier! I asked WHY on earth they hadn't done those things, and Redempta told me, "Every minute is precious." I was struck speechless. I don't think I've ever taken a task so seriously I didn't stop to use the restroom.

Their hard work paid off - the sambusas flew off our table at the festival yesterday. I felt very privileged to stand next to S. Redempta as she distributed the fruit of their labor to hundreds of college students and community members. Here's a picture of us:

After the festival, I took a nap and then spent the evening working with S. Anamaria on her final graded lesson plans of the semester - we practiced with me playing "second grader" so she would be prepared for her professor's observation today.

I also got to talk with my fellow volunteers in Puerto Rico yesterday, and we talked about how different the sisters' priorities and ideas of time are than ours. The lesson I have learned this week comes from thinking about that. As I work with the African sisters, I have realized how differently each person sets up their priorities. For S. Anamaria, doing whatever she is doing to the utmost best of her ability is always most important. If she's eating, she is only eating and thoroughly enjoying eating. If she's working, she's totally working and not taking a break to do anything else. She does everything well, fully. And when I tell her to eat something, she says, "I will." But she won't until she's finished. S. Redempta wants things to be done well, but she also wants them to be finished. She is willing to do things a bit more simply, like only wrapping her sambusas once instead of three times like Anamaria. She sees the big picture and tries to make sure all the parts are being accomplished so the finished product will come together efficiently. And me: I like to get things done, check things off my list, and make sure everyone is comfortable - bathroom breaks and regular meals included. I am learning to live more fluidly here, to let things happen as they happen and not have to plan out every second of every day, but it's still hard to let that go. We heard a reading a few weeks ago that said, "God is the journey." I'm learning to find God in everything here, in doing things instead of getting them done. I am trying to see God in the process instead of in the ending, because nothing is really ever finished - everything stays with us as we walk along the path of life. And God is with us in everything.

Peace and love!

A Peaceful Rhythm

2010-11-11T11:07:00.000-08:00

Today, for the moment, the sun is shining. The leaves that remain - which are ever fewer - are glistening and still, and the clouds are racing across the sky. My fingernails are turning purple from the cold because I insist on opening all the curtains to see out into the beautiful world, and I could see my breath when I took Anamaria to the library this morning. It is fall here in Washington.

A few exciting things have happened this week. First and most thrilling, I have started a new job in the library!!! Now that my grad school applications are all finished, I have lots of extra time on my hands, so S. Monika asked if I would like to spend time among the bookshelves. I felt like Belle yesterday (except my ladder didn't slide, it was a step-stool) with the high shelves of hundreds of books just waiting to be touched and put into their proper places. As my family knows, I LOVE alphabetical order. And S. Nathalie, our librarian, can't reach the top shelves, so I feel like my work is useful and appreciated. As my English Department supervisor used to say, there is nothing better than doing what you love and feeling like it matters.

I also have a new job in the kitchen, cleaning or organizing or doing whatever our Irish cook, Kathleen, asks. Yesterday, I cleaned fridges. Doesn't sound real exciting, but I was working in the warm kitchen with the ovens on and the bacon frying, and I was too warm to wear a sweater for the first time since I've been here!!! I was so excited to be hot - I'm just always so cold here and it was a wonderful treat.

Other than that, I've been working with S. Anamaria on her lesson plans, finding poetry books for children, and writing a big research paper on Early Childhood Education. It's getting closer to the end of the semester and stress is starting to run a little higher, but I am constantly amazed at both Anamaria and Redempta's dedication and will to get things done and work hard, no matter what. Even when they're tired and stressed and sick, they still sit diligently at their computers, typing away. I feel blessed to be surrounded by such inspiring people.

We had a silent day on Monday, and that inspired my lesson for today. I took a walk and wrote some, and just enjoyed a day to be. After I received a letter from my friend Mari, I started thinking about how my spiritual life has changed here. It hasn't been a very active process - I feel like most days I just live the rhythm of prayer and work (ora et labora, for my fellow Latin scholars) with the sisters. But as I thought about it more on our day of silence, I realized that the rhythm here is the most important change in my life - as I make time for God in my everyday life, I see God more often. In washing dishes or cleaning fridges or listening to long stories about second graders, I recognize little gifts God is giving me - time to talk with sisters I don't usually see, a chance to be warm, a moment of delight at the description of a "quiet smell." I think my biggest spiritual change here has been to be open to love, in whatever way or however unexpectedly it may come to me. I feel so peaceful and blessed here because I am able to be myself and be receptive to God's love for me through others.

Peace and love!