When Love Arrives

I really want to share this video. It's about the single most wonderful experience of life.

It's also about the most unpredictable experience of life.

And the most heart-breaking experience of life.

And the most beautiful.

It's about love.

It made me laugh, and it made me cry. For something that we all want so badly, love is elusive. It wears many faces, takes many forms, appears when we're least prepared for it, and leaves when we are least willing to see it go.

I thought these two did an amazing job of capturing what is beautiful and simple about love. That's my favorite part. I hope you enjoy it.

Love,
Gina

When God Speaks...

Hi everyone,

This is another entry that I wrote a long time ago and never posted. Better late than never, right?
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Now that my year with Cabrini Mission Corps is over, I have had a month to settle into a new routine. Three days a week I'm going down to Immigrant Services in Chinatown to volunteer, but the rest of my time is divided between applying for jobs and teaching myself Spanish. And when I say teaching myself Spanish, BOY do I mean it. This is what my average day looks like:

Wake up.
Eat breakfast while watching an episode of a Spanish telenovela.
Complete 1 unit of Rosetta Stone.
Read a few chapters from my "Easy Spanish Reader" that I got from the library.
Eat lunch while watching another episode of a Spanish telenovela.
Complete another unit of Rosetta Stone.
Read a section of Barron's "Complete Spanish Grammar Review" (also courtesy of the library).
Nap.
Dinner... you guessed it! .. while watching a THIRD episode of a Spanish telenovela. Sometimes a fourth, depending on how intense the cliffhanger was.

Overall, I have actually learned quite a bit of Spanish this month and I have witnessed an AWFUL lot of television drama.

And here's where God come in...

I have never had a productive summer in my life. My family will testify to this. In fact, the number one and two question that my dad and brother ask me during the summer months have always been, "What time did you get out of bed?" and "Have you left the house today?"

But I have never wanted anything so bad as to learn Spanish in my whole life. For one thing, every single job that I want in New York City that relates to direct social services has listed "Bi-lingual English/Spanish" as a requirement. For another, it's true that a vast number, if not the majority, of the clients I'll end up serving will be Spanish speakers, and I will be frustrated if I'm unable to help them if it's due to a simple language barrier. Ha ha... "simple."

But most importantly, I have developed over the course of a few years now a real devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe and Latin American culture. Strangely enough, though, I have never BEEN to Latin America and I have never been to Mexico. But since writing this, I've been to Guatemala! :)

Now normally I feel that my burning desire to learn Spanish would have fizzled out by now, 'cause.. I'm usually pretty lazy like that.. but this summer, with THIS project, I feel like God is helping me to keep my focus by keeping me excited about how much I'm learning and how much I've yet to learn. For example...

When was the last time you SAW a marble? Yes, the round stone you play games with. A marble? I'm pretty sure I haven't seen one since the fourth grade, but while I was studying a unit of Rosetta Stone the other day, the Spanish word for marble, "canica" was introduced. The unit was trying to get you to understand the difference between "una canica," "unas canicas," and "muchas canicas"- or "a, some, and many marbles." This, I thought, was a rather useless noun to add to my vocabulary, but ok. I'll roll with ya, Rosetta Stone....

That afternoon, I was in my dad's room trying to fix his computer for him when I found a MARBLE on the carpet! I picked it up and stared at it for a few minutes, trying to wrap my mind around where it might have come from. Where the heck did a marble come from? How in the hell did I encounter it on the same day that I learned the word for marble from my Rosetta Stone? I showed it to my dad-

"What is this?!"
"A marble."
"Where did it come from?"
"I don't know."
"When was the last time you've even seen a marble?"
"I can't remember."
"Does it belong to Hemwattie?"        (Dad's girlfriend)
"I don't know."
...

The marble mystery remains unsolved, but more just like it keep happening every day, and I think it's God's way of keeping me excited about how much I'm learning. I think he's trying to tell me that I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.

The plot thickens-

In addition to Rosetta Stone, my telenovelas, and my books, I also have a half dozen Spanish apps on my I-Pad. My favorite one is called, "Say Hi." With this app, you press a button and speak into the microphone in English or Spanish. Then the app translates what you've said into the opposite language, writes it on the screen for you, and actually says it out loud. So when I'm trying to apply everything I've learned and see if I've used the Spanish grammar rules correctly, I'll go to my "Say Hi" app, say something into it in Spanish, and pray that it spits back a perfect English sentence to me. Most of the time I'm off in one way or another. I often have difficulty with reflexive verbs, for example, or with figuring out where pronouns belong. And I'm sure this is not the most sophisticated or accurate app, either. I mean, it was a free app after all.

Anyway, today was a very long, but good day. I Skyped with Kim, a fellow missioner, talked to an old professor, was asked to be GODMOTHER to a friend's baby, applied for a position with the New York Immigration Coalition, and spent the evening hours researching an intensive Spanish school in Guatemala that was recommended to me. I looked up plane tickets to Guatemala City- only 450 dollars roundtrip- and then spent the night making constant jokes at my dad about him paying for me to go to Spanish school. "Hey dad, do you think you could fit that on my plane to Guatemala?" "Oh, but that would cost so much less in Guatemala!" "Well, while I'm in Guatemala I won't have time for any of that!"

About an hour ago I realized that I was exhausted, but that I wasn't ready for bed yet. So I sat quietly in my chair to have "un momento con el Señor,"  a moment with God.

I've been SO BUSY. Excited and happy, but busy, and God has been so present in every moment of my journey that I just wanted to find a moment to thank Him for being with me in all this. It's painful to know that you can't be where you want to be, or have the job you want to have because you don't know a language. My SPIRIT is so willing and I want to learn SO bad, and I realize that it's going to take quite a bit of time, but God has been constantly reminding me that it is possible and that I will succeed, eventually. And he keeps reminding me that the people I am doing this for are absolutely worth it. They are where his heart is. And mine.

So for this particular prayer I decided I was going to try to say it in Spanish. It was pretty ugly, but I strung a few sentences together that I wouldn't have been able to make a week ago, and I felt this warm feeling like God was pleased with me for trying. I felt like He and I were one step closer to Mexico. I rested a moment, in silence with him, and imagined giving him a big hug. As I often do, I wondered if the historical Christ looked at all like I imagine him. I looked up at the wall above my chair, where an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe and Jesus hang side by side. I looked at her, and I looked at him and I thought, "I can't wait to see you." Then I wondered if I'd be able to say that in Spanish, if I tried, and after much thought I came up with "No puedo esperar a verte."

Wondering if that was actually how to say it, I picked up my I-Pad, opened up the, "Say Hi," app, and said into it, "No puedo esperar a verte." After a moment my I-Pad replied in a choppy, automated voice, "I can not wait to see you." It was the first thing I had ever said into it that I had gotten completely right.

But I was struck by something that I didn't even realize was happening. What started out as a prayer... that I allowed to deviate to a test of my language ability... turned back into a conversation with God. The most beautiful conversation I could imagine, because He told me exactly what I wanted to hear. He can't wait to see me? He said it out loud.

And as all things this year have ended... I started to cry.

I don't know what God would say if I asked him, "What do you mean by that?" But when I heard those words I thought I knew in my heart exactly what it meant. I looked up at Christ on the wall and Our Lady of Guadalupe and I knew that He was telling me that He couldn't wait for me to get there. Couldn't wait for me to see him. Couldn't wait for me to succeed. To get to Mexico and be with the people he's calling me to serve. To be with Him there. In love and in mission.

It was such a moment of Grace, as I feel my whole month has been. He is so present to me right now and I'm so grateful to feel so loved and supported by Him. I know he'll continue helping me find my way to Mexico and Our Lady. I know he'll keep me optimistic and excited. I know he'll help me see this through and learn this language that will help me serve my brothers and sisters.

I am so grateful.

Gracias Señor.

Con Amor,
Gina

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Note: Sorry this blog dropped off the map. I am hoping to post some things that I wrote during the last few years that I never got around to publishing. ... but I'm not going to set a time frame... because... that would just be a mistake. And mt GOODNESS how crazy it is for me to have just re-read what I wrote little over a year ago. I am very blessed to have made it so much farther in my Spanish learning... I am very blessed to have made it to Central America... now, I just can't wait for Mexico. :)

When Helping Hurts

Today I posted Lessons the Fed-Ex Guy Taught Me that I wrote two years ago (and hastily finished today)- it was the story of a small encounter that taught me that I am not the savior of the world. I shouldn't feel bad when I cannot save someone and, in truth, I probably shouldn't even try- It's a tall order for someone who needs a lot of saving herself.

When I re-read and posted that entry, I began thinking about a lot of things- the difference between healing and saving, and whether or not I, as a human being, really have any role in either of those. After all, it's God that does the saving, right? And then I began thinking about humility, and questioning whether or not I have any at all.... Its been a rough day.

I love helping people. I get a lot of energy from solving problems, practical or personal, of my own or of others. It's especially rewarding to me to be able to help or comfort others, though. I feel free and happy when I can express my love for mankind in whatever form, so I often have great potential to make people feel loved or cared for in their toughest hours. I also like helping solve people's problems because it brings me closer to them. It helps us connect or understand one another on a deeper level. And I rarely walk away from an emotional encounter with another human being without learning something profound.

However, I also feel a great need to be loved and appreciated myself, to get others to respond to me and to vindicate my own claims about myself- that I'm a good person, that I'm loving, and that I am worth something in this world.

 And now the mood of this entry will be turning a bit....                 

It has been an unfortunate pattern in my life that I've often hurt people I've cared about by trying to "help" them too much. I had a friend who once told me that I had the personality of a jack-hammer. I didn't really understand what she meant until a few key people in my life had the courage to tell me just how much damage I did them while I was trying to "help."

I was always of the mind that if you did something out of love, it couldn't possibly be a bad thing. That if you shared your truth or your experiences with love, that God would carry the message. But there are a lot of other emotions or motives that accompany love sometimes that make healing difficult or impossible- Fear. Anger. Desperation. Loneliness. I've begun to realize that if I'm not in a good space myself, I really shouldn't try to be anyone's savior. I'll end up doing more harm than good.

I recently alienated someone that I loved very much. Worse than alienated, really- hurt. I was trying to resolve a problem we had, but was met by resistance at every turn. As I began to grow more frustrated and confused, my own insecurity and weakness began to take control of my actions. On some level, I knew what was happening, and I allowed it.

As time passed, I grew more and more desperate to solve the problem. I pushed harder and harder- jack-hammer like. At first I denied that it was I who was hurting this person whom I loved so deeply. Then, when I could no longer deny it, I rationalized my actions. Finally, I began to accept that the love that I was trying so desperately to show this person, the "help" I felt obliged to offer, my desperation to "fix" the problem, was actually poisonous.

In my weakness, I forgot everything that I knew about true love.

True love is gentle, selfless, patient, and unassuming. True love doesn't demand or accuse, belittle or berate. If I had stopped for a moment to think about whether or not God would have approved of the way I was choosing to express my love, I imagine things would be different for me know. As it stands, though, I think God is probably pretty disappointed in me. My only consolation is that I know he has already forgiven me.

My prayer now, is that God open my eyes and allow me to learn the lesson here. Really learn it. I pray that I never return to committing the same error- especially as it concerns hurting people who are most dear to me.

I pray, God, that you will grant me humility- a grace I feel I'm always in great need of. Help me to see that I am not the answer to the world's problems. That it is God's perfect love that heals, not my own. Help me to love your creation better, with the patience and gentleness that I often lack. Help me to see when I am hurting others, and grant me the wisdom to recognize when I am beginning to lose myself. But more than anything, I pray for forgiveness- forgiveness for having forgotten, for a moment, everything that You have ever taught me about love.

You alone know me, Lord, and you alone can heal me. And so it is with all of your creation. Please heal us.

Love,
Gina  

 “Do you wish to rise? Begin by descending. You plan a tower that will pierce the clouds? 

Lay first the foundation of humility.” 

- St. Augustine of Hippo

Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Lessons the Fed-Ex Guy Taught Me

Hi everyone, I wrote this 2 years ago and hadn't finished it, but I've given it a hasty ending and am posting it now. Enjoy! 
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This morning my director asked me to put together a prayer book for the intentions of our donors and guests. I found a binder, enlisted Colleen's help in decorating it, and began printing out some pages for people to list their intentions on. The pages were pretty simple with just two columns- one for the name of the person making the petition, and the other for a brief description of that person's prayer.

  This was the cover of the prayer book.

I was hole-punching the pages when the door bell rang. I crossed the hall to open the door- It was the Fed-Ex delivery guy. He had a package in his hands, and I was expecting the usual "Sign here, please," but he surprised me. Instead, he crossed the threshold with, "Do you have a prayer book?"

I was so taken aback by this unexpected question that my mind just sputtered to a halt. I had no idea what he meant. A prayer book?

He said that his mother was sick and that he wanted the Missionary Sisters to pray for her. At this, my brain suddenly regained the high ground and pieced together what should have been obvious- a book  for prayer intentions! Of course!

"Oh, yes!" I said, looking down into my hands. I had just been holding my new creation a moment ago. Where was it? I crossed back across the hall to the copy room and found the binder lying open there on the desk, the last few hole-punched pages waiting to be inserted. I slipped them into place and walked it straight over to the Fed-Ex guy.

"Here you go," I said. "I JUST made it! You'll be the first to write an intention." He took it from me and began writing. As he wrote his prayer intention I just stood there awkwardly. I wanted to say something to him. Something about how I would pray for his mother too, or how I hoped that she would find peace in the Lord... but nothing was forthcoming. Nothing seemed appropriate. So I stayed silent, racking my brains for something to say that might be comforting. I grew more and more anxious as I realized that my time was running out.

He finished writing, thanked me, and gave the binder back.  Before I could do anything more he turned and left.

I was a little overwhelmed by my feelings. A part of me was so in awe that almost the moment I had finished making the prayer book, someone appeared requesting it. Another part of me was suffering, though. I looked at the prayer request. It simply read, "Please pray for my mother, who has had a stroke and is in the hospital." I felt so terrible. All I wanted to do was offer that man some comfort or support and I didn't. Some kind word or action but I said and did nothing. I froze and stood there, watching him through the window as he jumped back into his truck and drove off.

The more time that passed the more I became disappointed in myself. I felt that I had missed an opportunity. I felt that this man was sent to me for a reason and that I failed to act in the necessary moment. I didn't comfort him or bring him any peace. What a miserable vessel for Christ's love I was.

After analyzing my reaction for a time, I realized that I was being a little ridiculous. My savior complex was shining in all of its scary glory, and I was making myself uneasy for absolutely no reason.

God certainly invites us to touch the lives of others, especially strangers. Every day we are given an opportunity to be kind, gentle, compassionate, forgiving, and sensitive to those we encounter. 
But he didn't ask me to.

What he did ask me for was a prayer book. And I could give him that.

In retrospect, I realize that what occurred was a small miracle. It was no coincidence that on this day I would be assembling the first ever Mother Cabrini Prayer Book for the retreat center. It was no coincidence that on this day, that book was all the Fed-Ex guy was looking for. He asked. And God answered his prayer.

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened (Mt 7:7-8).

Sometimes I forget that, though I want to heal every wound, there are many wounds that are not for me to heal. There are many problems I cannot fix. Many words that I do not have. However, it's ok that I can't give the world to others. That work is for God.

What I can give is what I do have. And love I have in abundance.

I pray that in those moments when words and actions fail me, I can at least be a loving presence to those I meet, and I pray that God will grant me the humility I am lacking to accept that I am not a savior but a servant. And that it is not I who should call myself to servitude, but Him. 

Love,
Gina

I Think the Scanner is Talking to Me...

The first time I used the scanner here at Cabrini I nearly died laughing. When you hit the "start" button the machine says, "starting scan," and then, "please wait a while."

I was like, "A while?! What the heck does that mean?" I imagined myself sitting before the ol' girl on an ancient, creaky rocking chair, knitting some mittens and growing old while I waited for the scanner to boot up.

"Please wait a while." The story of my life.

During orientation, Colleen led us in a prayer that really spoke to me. In a way, it forced me to see my life through a lens other than the lens of time. In that way, it has been a great source of comfort to me in troubling times; times of great helplessness, frustration, or disappointment. It's a lot easier to find peace in your life when you aren't caught up in time; when you don't see your life as a string of successes or failures.  The prayer went like this:

     As children bring their broken toys 

     With tears for us to mend,

     I brought my broken dreams to God,

     Because he was my friend.

     But then, instead of leaving Him,

     In peace, to work alone; 

     I hung around and tried to help,

     With ways that were my own.

     At last, I snatched them back and cried,

     "How can you be so slow?!"

     "My child," He said, 

     "What could I do? 

     You never did let go."

                              

                            -Lauretta P. Burns

It's uncanny how many times and in how many different ways this prayer has resonated with me since orientation. Since then, I have experienced my first Kairos retreat. The word Kairos itself means "God's Time." I learned during my Kairos retreat that I need to, "Let Go, Let God." It is difficult to accept that "our time" is not "God's time." He always seems to work slower or to have a different plan than we have for ourselves. Ultimately, though, His work is infinitely more perfect and more beautiful than ours. Why shouldn't we try and live in His time?

But oh how difficult it is to Let Go.

Then there was what I call, "All that hand imagery." Imagine that you are clutching tightly, fiercely onto something. It could be anything, but imagine that it is something you love. Something you love so much that you are afraid of it being taken from you. It could be a possession, a person, an animal.... How do you feel? How does that which you love so obsessively feel? If I cling too passionately to my family members, for example, both they and I will suffer together. I will fear, forever, the prospect of their leaving me. I will become anxious when they threaten to love someone more than they love me. I will be so preoccupied by them that I will not be able to embrace the rest of the world around me. And how would they whom I love respond? They will be forced to deal with my unhealthy attachment. My fears, my anxieties- they will no longer be mine alone. 

Now imagine that you are able to hold onto what is most dear to you, but you hold on with open hands instead. ... How do you feel? How does that which you love feel? If I could hold on to my family without anxiety or fear, if I could be at peace with the fact that they may one day leave me, then how much more joy would I find in the world? I would still be able to love deeply those who are dearest to me, but I would also be able to let them go if that was the will of God. And I would be at peace. It takes much less energy to relax your hand than to ball up a fist.

When Mother Cabrini's spiritual director was at a loss of what to tell her, she would simply say, "Give it up to God." In other words, take your fears, your anxieties, your frustrations and disappointments and give them to the one person who knows exactly what to do with them. 

We are not the masters of anything- God is. I wish I could give my struggles to God more easily, as Mother Cabrini did. I wish it was easier to accept that it is God's Time that will win out, not mine. I wish I really understood that it is God's Plan that's important, not mine. 

It seems that only on those days at Cabrini when I am tired, frustrated, or upset that things aren't going my way that I need to use the scanner. HOW convenient that it takes 45 minutes to warm up. I think it's trying to remind me that I just need to "wait a while"- that God has a plan for me, but that I have to sit down, relax, and chill out while He is working on it. 

I continue to struggle, but I am trying to Let Go, and Let God. I am trying to give Him my brokenness to mend. I am trying to love with open hands. And I'm trying to trust in God's Time.

It's hard, but I know it's worth the effort. Pray for me! 

Love,

Gina

Various Reasons for Crying at Work

The first time I cried at work, I was 17 years old. It was a summer job, and nothin' to spit on. With forty hours a week, my own desk, and a 9 dollar salary, I was the richest kid on the block and I never once came home smelling like pizza or deli meat. I thought I was lucky.

By the end of the summer I was applying for a minimum wage job at Wendy's.

On the day in question- that is, the day that I cried- I was asked to do something very illegal. Simple directions were given to me and I barely gave them a thought as I instantly set to work ticking off little square boxes on some paperwork. I guess I just didn't anticipate that an adult would ask me to do something so morally wrong.

The magnitude of what I was doing didn't hit me for a while. I think I had made it through 30 documents before it hit me. "Is this right?" I wondered. It took no time at all for me to conclude that it wasn't. I was committing forgery by altering paperwork that was signed by someone else. 

If I had worked for a dentist or a school district, a lawyer's office or a bank I think I might have been less upset. But I didn't. I worked in an office for a company who provided medical care for seniors. Or should I say, provides- the business still operates today, much to my chagrin.

Ah, but I haven't told you the worst part! Not only was I asked to tick off little boxes to indicate that our clients were being given the care they were promised and deserved when they were not, but I had to tell FIVE staff members about my reservations before one of them came to my rescue. First, naturally, I addressed the woman who gave me the assignment. "Oh, just do it," she said, "No one will care." Mind you, this woman was a nurse.

The second woman I addressed was also a nurse. She said that the aides who cared for the seniors simply forgot to check off those boxes- If I filled out the forms for them, it wouldn't be lying.I guess there were no lawyers in that office. Or saints.

And so on and so on, until I began to cry. At 17 years old, I still had that desire young kids have to please their superiors; I was given the job, and I wanted to do it, but crying and adamantly refusing to continue was better than participating in what was clearly illegal, dishonest, lazy, and insensitive to the fact that the lives of already very fragile people were involved.

As my tear ducts began to erupt the manager noticed me and stepped in to save me.
 ....................

Today, I cried at work.

It was a very different sort of cry this time. I didn't cry because the "grownups" let me down. I didn't cry because I realized the failings of our institutions and systems. I didn't cry because there was no one to speak for those without a voice. I didn't cry because human lives weren't being treated with dignity, care, or respect. And I didn't cry because I realized how easy it is to become the victim of a clerical "error"...

That day, I experienced how backwards human actions can be- how damaging. And the idea that these things all happen on a grander scale- that they hurt not just us but maybe hundreds, thousands, or millions. That's what really makes me cry- the reality that the world is made up of people, that people are flawed, and that we let one another fall left and right.

But there's also hope.

Today I cried because I watched and listened as a chapel full of 17 years olds asked, "Is this right?"  Together, they cried out "NO!" with passion and certainty. I felt alone in that office that day 5 years ago, but I know that I'm not the only one who has experienced a harsh reality like that. I'm not so naive, either, as to believe that I have never been on the other side of that fence as well, but I realized today just how many truly good people are out there. People who will do what they know is right. People who will say something.

Of course, I know that all those kids aren't perfect- one of them might be cheating on a math test right now as we speak. However, what was important to me was that they sought one another. They were committed to finding like-minded individuals who acknowledge the world's problems, humanity's problems, and do their best not to let one another fall.

The bad people in the world are the ones you hear about. They get all the press, all the attention, and (rightly so) all the just anger. It's easy to forget good deeds, and sadly, it's sometimes easy to forget good people.

I regret that I need to constantly reminded myself that there is a great deal of good in the world, but I'm also blessed to be in a place where that is so easy for me to do. At this retreat center there are so many young people with so much energy. So much enthusiasm and joy. I look and them, sometimes, and truly think they're going to take over the world and build a kingdom of love, hugs, and chocolate milk.

The first time I cried at work, I cried because I realized how harsh the world is. This time 'round, I cried because I realized that it's not. Not always.

The 17 year olds weren't literally standing around in a circle, holding hands, singing Kumbayah and screaming, "No!" in the face of injustice, but they didn't have to. Everything about their words and deeds spoke to Christ's love for humanity, and in that spirit I knew that these kids were going to be the ones to step up or step in to protect human holiness. And if they fall, I pray that they'll be there to catch one another and start afresh.

I find so much joy and hope and peace, even, at this retreat center. The place is actually quite boring but for all the beautiful people who come through here with lessons teach me. Not all of them are Christians, but the word of God is written on all their hearts. It's so easy to find Him here. I can't believe anyone wouldn't want to live among these people- to be a member of His Church.

Have a joyful and blessed Advent season.

Waiting In Joyful Hope,
Gina

Ode to Joy!

Hey Everyone!

I was telling someone this week that the people who get you through the roughest parts of your life are often the ones you develop the deepest love for. I had been thinking about the darker parts of my life and realized that, during those times, I never got what I wanted but I was always given what I needed. There was always someone to help me make it through the day-to-day stuff, even when I barely noticed their presence. It seems, though, that when the skies clear and circumstances improve, you suddenly find the eyes to see the people who were standing beside you all along.

It's easy to miss the little things- to believe, mistakenly, that we're not being noticed, loved, or comforted. We can only hope to never take those little things, those little gifts, and those special people for granted. It's not an easy thing to do.

I was thinking about the people I left behind in Maryland, and New York before that. I am incredibly blessed that I am free to go and to do whatever I want whenever I want; the biggest struggle in my life seems to be the TYRANNY OF FREEDOM ... and that isn't too bad! But I miss my family and friends when I slow down and give myself a moment to reflect on what is most important to me. It's always a lot harder than I think it'll be to leave them behind.

This is for all my friends who gush over cats.

I am blessed, not only with freedom, but also with the gift of being able to love very easily. While I struggle sometimes, loving others is something that comes very naturally to me. I love loving people- it's the only thing that makes any sense to me sometimes.

For that reason, traveling and moving about has always suited me pretty well. I made two new families while in Europe- one in Denmark, one in Ireland, and nothing gave me more joy than to make their friends and neighbors my own. With Cabrini Mission Corps, I now have over 300 new family members! The Cabrini Sisters are on 6 continents and in 16 different countries. The world is getting bigger, but I am still only one person. While I am having an unbelievable time running around and meeting new people and Sisters, I could never forget who I am or where I came from. Or who loved me first. 

Now I know that I went a little overboard here with the collages, but I wanted to make them so that when I'm being silly and forget how much God loves me, I will have a place to look and remind myself of just how many people have come into my life to lend me strength when I was feeling weak. Now, be advised that some seriously KEY people are missing from here- my professors, my doctors, some of my best friends from childhood, ... my mom (sorry, mom!)- there were phases of my life when I was camera happy, and phases of my life where I looked like I didn't quite fit into my nose and therefore had absolutely no desire whatsoever to be photographed. Today I am grateful to have had all of these beautiful people in my life. They all contributed a little part of themselves, and made me who I am today.

I carry them with me, always. I will love them, always.

 I want to thank you, Gracious Lord,
    for the good friends you give me;
    they are for me a priceless bounty.
Thanks to them, friendship is neither an abstraction,
    nor a distant, almost impossible, dream.
I owe to your providence, Lord,
    the possibility of counting on
    the constant help of friends.
Between me and them you have formed a solid bridge,
    which can withstand all threats of destruction.
The happiness with which you have blessed us
    enables us to enrich one another.
Lord, there was something astonishing,
    almost mysterious,
    in the way I met my friends;
    it was always outside the expected pattern.
But you alone know the reasons
    that drew us closer together.
This surprise and joy are refreshing,
    and I experience them anew
    at every step of my life.
I promise to do everything in my power
    to deserve this precious gift
    that you have reserved for me.
I ask you, Gracious Lord, to keep them safe in your hands,
    for they are yours above all.
Amen.

Who are you grateful for today?

Love Always,

Gina