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