A Walk Down Memory Lane

I was organizing my photos the other day and came across the pictures from my semester studying abroad. I lived in a tiny Austrian village, Gaming, for four months. Monday through Thursday I studied and prayed in an old Carthusian monastary - and then I traveled around Europe Thursday evening through Sunday. It was quite possibly the most amazing and spiritually uplifting time in my life.

Above is a picture of the church, part of the complex also known a the Kartause. Here's a bit from my journal while in Austria:

In the 1300s, a group of Carthusian monks built the Kartause as a home of solitude an prayer. They remained there, cloistered from society, for 400 years until they were kicked out. During World War 2, the Russians took over the Kartause as their military base. They pretty much trashed the place, even stabling their horses inside the building. Then in the 1980s an architect took over the Kartause and totally renovated it. He offered Franciscan part of the building to use for a study abroad progam, which brings me to today. Franciscan rents out a part of the Kartause for us to live, study, and learn about European culture.

To the right is the building I lived in. As you can see, the Kartause is nestled between the rolling hill (mountains to me, a Midwest girl). These hills surround the whole village and make it feel so cozy! I really miss the beauty of Austria. Sometimes I ache to go back again.



To the left is a close-up picture of my room. We had the best room in the place because it came with a balcony! I knew from the first moment I stepped foot in the Kartause that I was going to have the time of my life.

And I was right.

Home, and I Didn't Even Know It

When I was 15 years old I left home. No, not permanently - but for three weeks. I decided to travel to Europe with a group called People to People Student Ambassadors. At this point in my life I was a pretty average teenager. I did what my parents asked of me, went to church each Sunday, ate my vegetables... I was also slightly naive and somewhat self centered. It's not that I was grossly selfish or vindictive, but the concept of selflessness hadn't really occurred to me yet. I was just a fun-loving, pleasure seeking, just-out-of-freshman-year-of-high-school teenage girl.

Imagine my surprise when God spoke to me on that trip.

We had been in Rome for several days, sight-seeing and infusing our young minds with culture. Vatican City was next on the schedule, but I was so sleep deprived and sore from walking around the city that I found it hard to concentrate on the educational opportunities. Finally our tour guide released us to go and explore St. Peter's Basilica. I was particularly interested in Vatican City and the Basilica because I was Catholic, but I wasn't what you would call a phenomenal participant in my faith. The church was so grand and beautiful I couldn't help but wander through it, gazing in awe at the different statues and alters. I had no idea what I was looking at, but I was sure that it was all very important.

Eventually a group of us came to a curious spot deep within the church. A tall, red velvet curtain hung from the ceiling, enclosing some sort of restricted area. Naturally, I wanted to see more. A sign written in several languages warned us to be quiet and respectful - this was a place of prayer. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't been to mass in a week or two because of the European tour. I decided to take a moment to pray, being Catholic and all, and to make up for missing mass. A few other Catholic members of the group joined me as we stepped between the curtains into a tiny chapel.

Immediately the scent of incense enveloped me. The fragrance brought with it a sense of familiarity and comfort. As I knelt down to pray all the stress, tiredness, and bodily soreness disappeared. I was filled with a deep sense of peace. How strange, I thought, but just shrugged it off as I quieted myself in prayer. Then I heard it, not with my ears, but within my soul:

You are home, the voice told me.

Uh, no, actually I'm in Rome, like several thousand miles away from home, I instinctively replied.

You are home, the voice reiterated.

When I walked out of the velvet enclosed chapel I discovered that each person who stepped inside to pray had a similar experience. We all felt a lightening of our burdens, a physical change in our bodies, a calming sense of peace. I finally started to put all the pieces together. Some very special just happened to me - I heard the voice of God.

I wish I could say that my life changed at that moment. It actually took a bit more time than an instant. The thing is, however, I could never forget those words, You are home. What did they mean?

Over the years I've discovered that home isn't always a physical place, like I originally understood it to be. Home is the place where you belong. It makes sense to me that "going home" is really entering into a deeper, more faithful relationship with God. During my teenage years I always felt alienated, like I didn't belong anywhere. I longed for the feeling of acceptance, comfort, and home. It just took me awhile to realize that I will only feel accepted, comforted, and at home when I am fulfilled by God. I've always had a home in the Church, within the community of those who love and serve God, I just didn't always know it.

*This post was written for the April Scribbit Write-Away Contest. The topic this month: Going Home.

Carefree Timelessness

Over the weekend Ryan and I drove to Chicago to share in carefree timelessness with one of my best friends, Aislinn, and her fiance, Rich. I can't remember exactly where I picked up the phrase "carefree timelessness," but I think it might be from Matthew Kelly. Regardless of its origin, it is a phrase that resonates with me. One of my love languages is Quality Time - and what better way to spend time with someone than allowing it to be free of cares and time restraints?

My expectations were more than exceeded Friday evening through Sunday afternoon. It was like one long lazy Sunday afternoon (with two nights thrown in for good measure). We did just what we wanted to do each moment, with no concern for the time. We also stayed up far past my usual bedtime, in the spirit of timelessness. Most of the weekend we didn't really do anything beyond talking and eating. Yeah, that pretty much sums it up - a good weekend includes much talking and much eating.

For example:
Saturday morning we woke up - whenever we felt like it- and lounged in our pj's for the rest of the morning. Ryan, Aislinn, and I enjoyed a spirited discussion based on Jen's current blog. When we finally did shower and clean up, it wasn't under any time constraint. Aislinn and I had plenty of time to meander and sift through different outfits and decide to put on a little make up. We spent the afternoon in quaint downtown Oak Park - eating a wonderful sushi meal, indulging in Cold Stone ice cream, and catching a flick, Horton Hears a Who, at the downtown movie theatre with a bazillion little kids. Then we came back to Aislinn's adorable studio apartment (I was a bit confused when I first walked in, not grasping the concept of studio, and asking where the bedroom was...) for a nap! Our evening activities included public transportation (which I think I enjoy more than the average person) and an excursion to Howl At The Moon. I had forgotten far removed from the bar scene I was until we actually stepped inside the overly crowded room. But my venture into modern culture fared well, as our little group eventually claimed a table where we enjoyed drinks, good music, and watching those who could not hold their liquor.

I think the best part of our carefree timelessness was spending it on Aislinn's turf, enjoying the place she calls home. I was able to sit back, to let her hostess and organize (something I almost always volunteer to do). I think it's a big deal for a women to be able to hostess and show off her home a little bit, especially as she leaves college and establishes herself in the adult world. Each time I am able to experience another friend's home, I know her a little better than I did before. She gets the chance to share her daily routines and favorite haunts with me. I get the chance to walk with her, on her side of the street.

Reflections on an Orlando Spring Break

The best part about having a husband in graduate school is living vicariously through his spring breaks. Even though I now work in the "real world" my hubby still provides those good old college perks. This year we both craved a little sunshine and decided to travel to Orlando for a long weekend.

The plan: soak up the sun and read all day long by the pool

The reality: unseasonably cold weather and confusion about the purpose of taking a vacation in the first place

The good news: coming home feeling refreshed in our daily lives and invigorated in our marriage

I'm the kind of person who likes to make a plan - and I tend to react badly when forced to deviate from it. This kind of rigidity makes it difficult for me to yield to God's plans a lot of the time. I also tend to become most obsessive with my travel plans. In my very worst moment (missing the plane to Austria and melting down into a complete sobbing mess in the airport) the thought came to me that I should try to be more flexible.

This Orlando weekend gave me ample room to practice my flexibility. I had to reconsider my vacation philosophy. What else besides sunshine could make our vacation worthwhile? How could I find satisfaction beyond my unfulfilled vacation plans? If I've just spent the last week at home, sick and attached at the hip to Ryan, how could I make our vacation time together special and romantic?

I realized that if I opened my eyes to the gifts surrounding me, the little inconveniences would diminish - I had to throw away my expectations of the perfect vacation and just enjoy the experience.

Ryan and I were blessed with a wonderful vacation. We soaked in the beauty of the resort, tasted fine wine and cuisine (I won't eat fish unless I am near the ocean!), slowed down our pace, and really looked into each other's eyes as we talked. We also spent a wonderful afternoon with my college roommate, Farrah, who we haven't seen since our wedding day. We went exploring through Downtown Disney (hey, it's the only "free" place in the park) and rediscovered our childhood in all the little shops. I even managed to snag a little sunburn, despite the uncooperative weather.

All in all, it was one of the few vacations I ended feeling relaxed and not overly tired from excessive excursions. I also discovered that Ryan and I don't really need a romantic get-away at this point in our relationship. We keep the flame going in our every-day life. The best part of the vacation was spending time with Farrah. Until Ryan and I have children (and, therefore, the need for a romantic get-away), my vacation philosophy will include quality time with friends and family. Because of the setbacks during this vacation, I learned a little bit more about ditching my well-laid plans and following the Lord's plans instead.

***

Oh, the joys of air travel

Me (noticing the light flashing and siren ringing for another baggage claim): Where is our little flashy light and siren? It's my favorite part!

Ryan: We already missed it because it goes off before the luggage carousel starts moving.

Me: I like it because it reminds me of casino jackpots. Here's your luggage. You win.

Yes. I am sick today and have nothing else to do with my time...

So, I have spent most of my day sitting in bed (very "soft and delicious" as one friend would describe it) wading through the blogosphere. My sifting led me to an old blog post from my semester spent abroad. It almost took my breath away, revisiting my old thoughts from a time when I seemed to possess more wisdom than I realized. At least, the words are a new wisdom to the me sitting here (in bed) today.

Anyway, I thought I would share. The post describes a walk I took in Medjugorje in 2004.

I decided to walk up the rocky mountain barefoot. I had heard about others doing it, and I was so excited to add that physical penance to my spiritual prayer of the Stations of the Cross on the way up. And it was demanding. I think it took nearly two hours for us to reach the peak of the mountain.

But how can I explain how rewarding it was to experience that walk? I noticed that when I looked up the big rocks looked the most daunting. I was wary about walking through them. However, I quickly learned that the smaller stones were the sharpest and most painful to walk over. The larger stones had been rubbed smooth from millions of pilgrim feet over the past twenty years. And I saw how the rocks related to my life. The big sins in my life look the most daunting. I think that I will never get over them, or find forgiveness with them, or heal from them. And when I approach the big ones, it is always easier than I expected. The small stones represent the tiny day to day sins in my life. They cut the most because they are the hardest to rid myself of - and I am challenged every day by them. They are the tiny vices that create the biggest problems. I felt as if I had walked through the sins in my life on the Cross Mountain. I was performing a penance for my life with my body, but my soul was left to gaze at the beauty of the mountains and to speak with God in my heart.

...The way down Cross Mountain all I could think was how incredibly thankful I was for the simple gift of shoes in my life.