Bridging the Gap

I never got around to writing blog about Christmas... but inspiration has struck and I want to share another story with you all while it's still fresh. So Christmas will have to wait for some other time, I apologize.

Today was the despidada (going away party) for two of our little girls from the Hogar. Two months ago, two couples came from Holland to see their new daughters in person for the first time. Since then they have been here getting to know their new family and adjust to one another.
It is such a special thing to see how they interact. Immediately today, I could notice love and a strong bond that has already been formed between the parents and their daughters. It's strange to think of how the future might be for these girls. They are still young so they might forget Spanish altogether and end up being fluent English and maybe Dutch as well. I wonder if they will have any memories from the Hogar and Guadaria besides what they see in photographs...
The families made a large donation of toys for all the many girls who will still be living at the Hogar as well as a washing machine to ease the load since everyone washes by hand. We had an event to say thank you for the donations but above all, for the love they have for their daughters.

Around Christmas I was asked, "Why don't you join the choir at the Hogar!?" by the Mother Superior, other sisters and some of the girls as well. I said okay and on January third, the classes began. But then I caught up in other activities and went on vacation to Cochabamba so I hadn't gone for a while. Finally, this week with the beginning of Institute classes, I was able to make a schedule with the choir practice built in. I went to my first real meeting of the choir yesterday. Afterwards the teacher asked me if I could come in a lead the lesson the following day so they could practice before the event. We had talked early in January about my ability to read music and my experience and such, so he knew I could keep the rhythm. The girls already knew the songs so it would be my job to just mark the time and signal for them to come in (along with setting up the track and speakers). My job as the music choir teaching assistant had begun!

So after convent lunch, I walked over the Hogar and assembled the girls together to practice their two songs. Before I knew it, the parents had arrived and it was show time. "Cool," I thought, "now I just get to wait until the choir has their turn to perform and that's it!" Unexpectedly, Profe Lilly (a teacher who works full time at the Hogar as the Madre's right-hand woman), asked if I could translate for the parents. Startled, and nervous, I obliged.

If you've read any of my previous blogs (there's not many), you'll know that getting over the language barrier was a BIG hurdle for me. In recent months, my confidence has increased tremendously in my speaking abilities! I froze for a second as the pressure of Profe's request settled around me, but I agreed and it made me really happy.

It was easy for me! But more than that, I was overjoyed to be the bridge of communication. I presented the various acts and through me, Profe and Madre were able to convey just how much they were grateful for these lovely people and all that they have done for not only their daughters, but everyone else at the Hogar as well. And in return, the parents were able to express how amazed they were with the Hogar- the great impression it has left on them. One mother said, "Yes, there are more opportunities for people in Holland, but the most important thing is love and here there is love. This is the best place for the girls to grow up." The words that were said in truth brought tears to the parents and to me as well. I can't explain it very well I'm afraid, but I really could feel God working through me. The Holy Spirit raining gifts so I could connect the messages being sent between the Bolivians and Hollanders (if that's what they're called).

Madre mentioned how this is always a happy and sad time for her. On the one hand, it is a joy to have kids be adopted, but on the other, it's sad to see how many have to stay. I am so excited for what the future holds for these two families. They may not be families of blood, but they are truly families of heart. The amount of love... it transcends words.

Please keep these families in your prayers, as well as all of our girls and people out there who are considering adoption or going through the process!


*ps: The Hogar only started having adoptions to Holland ten years ago. Before, the adoptions were just to the United States, Germany, Spain, France and within Bolivia. Due to recent laws, Americans can no longer adopt Bolivian children. However, within these past ten years, fifteen girls have been adopted to Holland from the Hogar Sagrado Corazon. One of them actually just got married to a man from Holland as well! <3

Giving Thanks

How does someone celebrate Thanksgiving in Bolivia, if it's not a recognized holiday? And besides, it's summertime. Thanksgiving just isn't the same without fall colors, a brisk breeze, turkey, pumpkins, stories of Pilgrims and Native Americans, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade (Rockette's, Broadway, balloons, floats, Matt Lauer, Al Roker..) and all the family together. THIS IS WHAT THANKSGIVING IS ALL ABOUT!

isn't it?

Well not really. To be honest, on Thursday it was kind of easy to forget it was Thanksgiving. In the back of my mind it was tucked away, but I spent the day instead at a botanical garden. This for me, is the way that thanks and adoration for God naturally flows out of me. I love to be outside in observation of the wonderful work that God has created. He is truly the best artist. I got to appreciate His work in new ways that I have never seen before (because they don't exist on Long Island...) and with people that I am trying to build a community with.

Together, we rode in the back of a pick up to Santa Cruz. Once at the garden, I took a walk around to capture the scene on film while lunch began to be cooked. For my "Thanksgiving meal" I had: chorizo, yuca, rice, onion and pickles. More touring of the grounds and then we all went even farther east to the town of Cotoca.

Now, the interesting thing about this town is that every year, a pilgrimage is made from Santa Cruz to the curch in Cotoca. Why? Because, as legend has it, two men where chopping down woods one day in the area when suddenly, they cut down one and saw the Virgin Mary in the tree. From then she has been referred to as the Virgin on Cotoca. Although it wasn't time of the pilgrimage yet, and we didn't walk, we did see people preparing and vendors beginning to set up shop. It is a gorgeous church with beautiful fixtures and a nice plaza. Certainly fit to hold all the admirers the Virgin has.

It was a spectacular day to spend out in my "natural habitat". A little break to step back and just wonder at all that God has done for me and hope for all He can do through me. With this break and new setting, I also got to really examine what I am thankful for: for this wonderful opportunity to be in a new place with new people learning new skills to help others, for such a big and global Salesian family, for health, for shelter, for food [despite nutrition lacking, at least my tummy is full!], for such a caring family back home and for the wifi that allowed me to talk to my parents that evening (hahaha!)

I pray that everyday I can wake up with thankfulness of life in my heart and use that as fuel for everything that I do. Thanksgiving isn't just one day, it really is everyday

The following Sunday we were fortunate enough to have ALL the Bolivian SLMs congregate at our house to celebrate (plus another American volunteer from the States who works in Montero). We had a Thanksgiving/Advent/pool party. That's right- we got an inflatable baby pool. Everybody made a dish and together we were able to have chicken, stuffing, rolls, corn, mashies, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, squash pie, mississippi mud pudding and brownies! This was a SUPER blessing for sure. It doesn't matter if it was technically the wrong day/ season: we had a really awesome time!

PS: since this post, I have made the pilgrimage to Cotoca from Santa Cruz. I went with another family from Montero (mom, dad, daughter and two sons). It took us four hours to walk from the city to the church. Despite wearing sneakers, I ended up getting horrible blisters on both of my feet. The mother tried to tell me to join her and just take a micro part way through, but I soldiered on and walked the whole thing. Once in Cotoca I did buy new flip-flops though because the blisters popped and hurt terribly. But it was such a great experience to have so much time to talk with them and enjoy a tradition that many Bolivians do every year!

Interpol Idiots

I'm writing this on the back of a coffee stained placemat drinking some kind of Korean drink from a can. It makes me think of the asian food market I once went to after an orthodontist appointment, or my childhood friend Lynn.

I'm sitting in the Plaza del Estudiante in Santa Cruz by the second ring. Why am I here? Well, I thought I would be spending the day finally getting my paper from Interpol and going to immigration after being illegal in Bolivia for almost a month now. No such luck. They said our papers came in but upon arrival at the office, nope. We need to come back the next day. While leaving we got pulled into a side office and interviewed for 'biometrics'. Apparently all foreigners need to do this (but I'm pretty sure our friends at the hogat didn't... Just another example of how wacky the system is) so they have more info on who's in Bolivia. In the end I got a little slip of paper to show anyone who asks for my papers that I don't have yet. Kind of like a "get-out-of-jail-free" card. I'm told too that I'll be more likely to be questioned because I look, well, not Bolivian (apparently I'm blonde here?). Mariela has less of a chance but will still probably be asked, especially if she's with me. That makes me feel like I put her at risk; that I'm a liability. Also, the fine is 20Bs for each day past our visa expiration date. Thank God for Mariela because she let them knkw. It's is not our fault; Interpol is the place who put us down and sent our papers to China. Hopefully we don't have to pay because we've racked up 600Bs, if not more, in fines. We started the process theee days after arrival. We were on top of our stuff.

The risk of deportation seems more real today. Maybe I had a prophetic dream a couple weeks ago when I dreamt we were deported to San 

Diego. And if I do get deported, that fills me with questions and fear. It's not scary in that I'm afraid of my well-being, but what are the implications for my future? Technically this is a felony, right? (Pleading innocence here). Will the plane ticket be covered by the government or do I pay? What happens at the convent and institute? Will they get new volunteers soon or have to wait for the next round of SLMs? Mission reimburtments? Should I apply for school now?

And then I really think about how God fits into this situation. What's His hand in all this? Is two months all He really wanted from me in Bolivia? What have I learned in this short time? How have I made an impression here (if any)? I'm not going to pretend I have any answers or write down my own conjectures. Hindsight is always 20/20 anyway. I'll just stick my mantra through this legal mess, "Your will be done."

So many questions, both secular and spiritual. I think of when Fr. Antony compared us to little pebbles. We're small, can be kicked around, become annoying when stuck in a shoe, just kind of there. But the Holy Spirit is a hurricane. And when that hurricane picks us up and increases our velocity, oh what an impact we can have! Here in Bolivia, I'm the pebble in the hurricane. Not really knowing where the Holy Spirit is taking me in this crazy storm, but submitting to the fact that I'm not in charge. He's the one who steers the storm. I do what I can, but the rest (and majority) is all Him. Trust in the Lord. A cliché maybe, but a hard and necessary lesson. Whether I stay or go, my hope is that it is as God sees fit.

P.S: If I'm in a hurricane with my VISA ish, BARISTA coffee is the eye of the storm. A little place of calm, smiles and serene caffeine.

Pensiamentos de Peter

Then he made the disciples get into the boat and precede him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. After doing so, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When it was evening he was there alone. Meanwhile the boat, already a few miles offshore, was being tossed about by the waves, for the wind was against it. During the fourth watch of the night, he came toward them, walking on the sea. When the disciples saw him walking on the sea they were terrified. "It is a ghost," they said, and they cried out in fear. At once [Jesus] spoke to them, "Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid." Peter said to him reply, "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water." He said, "Come." Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus. But when he saw how [strong] the wind was he became frightened; and, beginning to sink, he cried out, "Lord, save me!" Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him, and said to him, "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" After they got into the boat, the wind died down. Those who were in the boat did him homage, saying, "Truly, you are the Son of God." (Matthew 14: 22-33)

Reading through this one might first think, "Wow, Jesus will always be there for us when we fall." And that's true and definitely a beautiful thing to be sure of, but it's not why I decided to post it tonight.
Rather, I wanted to delve into Peter's mind while he took his first step (or two). It's interesting how the scripture skims over the fact that Peter, a regular being, was actually WALKING ON WATER! That just blows my mind. I can picture it in my mind: Peter taking unsure steps as if walking on eggshells, face aghast, alternating his gaze of amazement at the water and at Jesus.
Now that I'm a couple weeks in for teaching, I really find myself wondering if Peter and I are sharing some thoughts. Here I am, in the middle of a job that I didn't really think I was capable of, and I'm doing it! I'm walking on the water, amazed that it's possible. I see how thin that water film is. I know that there is a huge risk of drowning. But yet, I am here and moving one foot at a time.

As far as teaching goes, boy does that stress me out! Mad props to everyone who dedicates their lives to education. All the years of schooling you put in and hard work inside and outside the classroom are immeasurable in their necessity. These first couple months of teaching seem to be like one big research project for me. I read online, looking for helpful tips and worksheets for my kids. But the biggest wealth of knowledge definitely comes from my teacher friends back home (thank you so much!) With their help, God, the gifts of knowledge and wisdom, my laptop and books here: I hope that this water I walk on will become sturdier ground. It's all about maintaining focus on Christ. He's what it is all about. Mission is for Him, and by Him. All because He said, "Come," and I stepped out of my boat. And now, each day is one more motion towards Jesus on the water, beckoning.

During the mornings, if wifi works, I like to listen to sermons on my iPhone (thanks Justin!). The first series I listened to was about the Theology of Suffering. Without going into too much detail, the guy said something that really correlates to this passage. He used an example of a little kid standing on the edge of a pool with a father in the water saying, "Jump." And the kid stands on the edge of the pool. Struggling with what he knows to be true about water and concrete edges and what he knows to be true about his dad. We cannot let our circumstances paralyze us or believe that our circumstances (be in the wind for Peter, or the edge of the pool for a child) are bigger than our Father. So cheers, to realizing that God above all and truly by His great power, ALL things are possible: even me, barely 20 years old, living and working in a foreign country.

Please continue to pray for all missionaries throughout the world and today, for all the souls of the departed <3

Conch Shell

Mute. Unable to speak. Stricken with fear. Frozen.  But yearning for so much more beyond herself.
Ariel was able to surrender her voice for a new pair of legs. Legs to help her seek things above. All in the search of Prince Eric.

     Likewise, I have lost my voice (both literally and figuratively. Drinking lots of tea.). The language has been a huge roadblock for me. Although having spent many years studying Spanish and getting high marks, doubt constantly enters my mind. I know that this doubt is the work of the Enemy (just like Ursula!). It's difficult to comprehend spoken word or input into a conversation I understand because by the time I formulate in my mind something to say, the topic has already changed. I became a mute and it made me so aggravated. For me, when I set my mind to do a task, I'd like to do it the best as I can. But coming here, that has been nearly impossible because I cannot understand what my tasks are fully.
     I realize to though that my task is much like Ariel's. To get out the bubble of my comfort zone in order truly "Seek Things Above" (Colossians 3:2, anyone?) and really get to know my prince, the Prince of Peace.

                                                                 
                                                                       BOOM!

     I'll keep with the Ariel theme for just a little bit longer since she and I have much in common. We both love to swim, sing, got our eyes up above, seek The Prince and have fish for best friends... (I mean what? oh, wait, nevermind that last part).
     Anyway, today has been one of progress. I'm finding my musical voice and putting it to use! As soon as I got here, the sisters found out that I like to sing. This evening Mariela and I went to see the youth group and their preparations for a play on Sunday about Saint Francis and Saint Clara. It came up again that I sing and so I sang a bit in English for them all. Afterwards, I was invited to sing during their show! The final scene is Clara having her hair cut and taking her vows, and I will be singing during the action. I'm so excited to finally be able to put one of my talents to use!!
     Little by little, everyday, I battle the Enemy inside me for my voice back. And I must say, things finally began to turn around by saying the rosary with the sisters. It was exactly what I needed because my spirituality was lacking and that's a huge part of mission! I just needed to push [pray.until.something.happens] And yes indeed, something did happen.
     Today there were many victories. I was able to get around Santa Cruz without the departing SLM, and tell Madre Clara that I was going to the plaza to change money, get groceries, make a deposit for the bank and that I'd return to help with the students' plays (I hope she was proud because that might just be the most she's heard me say in Spanish thus far).
     Mariela stayed back because she is more involved with the students' plays. So I offered to make her deposit as well. Without her, my linguistic crutch, I had to make my way around Montero with my own Spanish skills. I was going with Antoinette and Natalie, and of the three I was the one with the most history with the language.
     I was able to flag us three motos and off we headed to the plaza. There I exchanged my own money with the dudes there. At the supermarket I asked the cashier if she knew where the Banco Union was and was able to understand most of it!! Another two motos were hailed (one for me, and one for Antoinette and Natalie) and asked for Banco Union. Wouldn't you know, we made it to the right place! At the bank, we waited DMV style; for our number to pop up with which booth to go to. And wouldn't you know, I was able to get across that what I needed to do and for whom. More than that, I was able to make small talk! YAY!

     The motos are a great time to think. It was while riding to the Banco Union and calling out behind me to the girls, "estoy ganando!" that I realized a lot had changed from the day before. My heart was lighter, I am capable and it mostly is due to getting in the prayer I really needed to do myself. Despite all the prayers and good vibes are being sent my way, I needed to be the one to open up that dialogue between God and myself about my struggles and need of His grace in my heart. To set myself back on the right path. To reignite my heart for why I came down here in the first place.


                                                            




p.s: odd fact, I wanted to get Seek Things Above tattooed on my ribs when I finish mission because I won't be able to give blood for a year upon arrival to the EEUU, so the fact that it fits so uncannily well into this post is just mind-slanting to me.

Settling In

Hola de Bolivia! After talking the talk, here I am about to walk the walk. It's only day two, but I already feel like I have a lot to say (&I know many people want to be informed on my happenings)- so here goes.

It was a very difficult time saying goodbye to my family. Those who know me, know that I rarely cry... like ever. But I think 20 years of pent up waterworks are finding release. It was frightening to leave everything & almost everyone I know (minus the handful of other SLMs in Bolivia). I'll admit to having felt a slight victory when waiting at my gate in JFK and being able to say "salud" and be thanked when someone sneezed. On the plane ride I had a window seat, but no window (ridiculous, I know!) I was so excited to watch the Atlantic pass beneath me and maybe see Cuba, or the Yucatan Peninsula or the Isthmus of Panama- many geographical regions that I read about in history class come to life. Instead I watched the Great Gatsby (with Toby McGuire and Leonardo DiCaprio.. loved it. Best acting in any film version I've seen), listen to Daft Punk and ask for "arroz con carne" for dinner and "jugo de manaza" and "agua" (another victory for me!).

My plane landed on the Pacific side of Panama (first time to the Pacific), and I met up with my lovely site partner Mariela at the gate for our connecting flight. I felt out of place with so many people speaking different languages. But when I handed the ticket to board, the guy did a double take and in perfectly clear English said I looked like someone he knew and that's why he looked again because he thought, "I didn't know they were traveling." To which I responded, "surprise!"

I sat next to a business man and felt inadequate when trying to fill out my customs papers next to him. Also I must say I had a pang of jealously when his colleague said they were going home October 5th (I was/ am homesick). But I promised to stay in Bolivia, and so I shall.

Customs was actually a lot easier than I thought, just showed my paper and passport, took a picture and went to get my bags. Quick and simple. Got my bags, had a lady took a cursory glance through them and then went outside to meet up with Madre Clara, Antoinette, Natalie and Lanie. It was much windier and chillier than I expected (my mother says the wind is the Holy Spirit coming with us). We loaded the luggage into the back of the pick up and headed north from Santa Cruz to Montero. Being 3:30 in the morning, there wasn't much to see outside so the landscape still remained a mystery.

We were led to a small room by the church that had two beds and a bathroom and were told to rest. Our house was not ready for us yet so the hermanas would let us know the next day around noon. So we slept, in our clothes not wanting to unpack anything yet. I slept on and off because it was strange place and the wind kept me up (creaky windows and the breeze came through cracks in the window frame next to my bed). Sometimes I would look out the window and see cacti, manga trees and coconut trees. I couldn't believe I was here. Around noon, nobody came for us yet. Still in our grungy travelling clothes and not yet showered, Mariela and I made our way to the sisters' dining room in the hopes of finding someone, ANYONE. Luckily Hermana Faustina and Hermana Joaquina were in the kitchen preparing lunch and we were able to introduce ourselves. I said my name was Ruthann, but that's hard to say in Spanish so I'm called Ruth (phonetically- Root). And there is a sister here with the same name! And she's also number 5 our of 6 children! We are twins. I'm told when she's absent, I'll pretend to be her (but I doubt her habit would fit me because she's very tiny).

Lunch consisted of chicken noodle soup, yuca (a starchy root), something that had tomatoes and meat and was spiced very nicely (and rice of course) and a hot drink made from the mangas. We were told to rest some more, but I was restLESS. I wanted to be in my room with wifi to let my family know I was okay because they were probably freaking out from not hearing from me (my text didn't send through over the airport wifi). Some time after 7, Madre Clara finally came to save us from the imprisonment of the our beds in the sacristy. We walked with her in the dark to the principal's office and sat with her. There she began to explain the jobs for us (which Mariela later helped translate to me). We went over to our little house after that and hooked up the wifi (this was some time around 10 already). Finally I could see my texts and call my mom (which cut out a couple times). I was reconnected with the WORLD! But then, while we were in our living room/ kitchen (which I will refer to as the sala), the dogs were released...

We were told that some of them bite and one dog placed himself right outside of our door! They barked and jumped on the windows. We weren't sure how to get to our rooms so Mariela suggested we just sleep in the sala. I kept a look out until the dog was gone and then we ran to our rooms though. I slept well, it was little chilly. More comforting to know that I talked to my family though. I woke up around 8:00 to take my first shower, which was quite chilly (and no mom, I didn't get an electrical shock, no worries). Madre Clara came by because she set up our breakfast in the sala (saltenas and tea). I managed to speak a little while it was just she and I.

I unpacked all my clothes (a strange sign that I'll be here for a while), and set up my room. We took a bigger tour around the whole school in the daylight. There are three dogs past the gate where we stay. They're named, Cody, Paco and Peter (to which I told Madre, "Peter es el nombre de mi hermano tambien!" I haven't spoken much but she laughed when I said that). At lunch, I brought some pictures on the laptop of my family for the sisters to see. They were very curious about who was who and who was younger and if anyone was coming to visit. I said all their names in Spanish (except my parents because I don't know them in Spanish). But I pointed out, Estaban, Justin, Guillermo, Peter (they recognized the name in English), and Maria (mi hermana menor).

After that, Mariela and I sat outside in one the playgrounds and talked. There have been a couple signs that this is right so far. For example being with Sisters of the Sacred Heart and not Salesians (surprise to anyone who didn't know that), I reflected on how my heart feels a little similar. It's like I have a wounded heart from being ripped from my dwelling and right now it is bleeding longing and anxiety. I want it to, and I know it will eventually as it has already begun, to bleed out love and joy for this life here. Even finding my tea residue in the shape of a heart brought a smile to my face.

This evening we went to mass to celebrate the Feast of Mercedes (the patron saint of Montero). The church was located in the plaza so we packed into a taxi to get there. My first taste of Montero outside of the compound! Some things really remind me of home. I grew up in a town on Long Island with a large Latino and Africa-american presence (my family was probably one of two Caucasian families on the block). So in a way, Montero reminds me of some of the stores back there. Little tiendas where things are cheap and everything seems to be covered with a film of dust. The road noise (which I was told it was noisy) is not as bad as I thought. On Long Island I live right by an intersection so it just sounds like that. And then when we were crossing the streets watching out for cars and motos, it was like crossing the streets in New York City. But the church was very large, and kind of open to the air. No walls fully enclosed the space and the floor was still part tile, part packed earth. After mass, we were led in procession through some blocks behind a statue of Mary. There were fireworks and a drum march. I felt like I was just gaping at everything while Mariela and Hermana Sara chit-chatted.

We tried to buy bread afterwards for dinner and then breakfast with Hermana Inez, but the store was all out so we walked back home. They gave us some of their bread and yogurt to take back to our house (we won't eat with them much anymore except for lunch on Thursdays). Also we were told that Lanie, who was supposed to come to Santa Cruz with us tomorrow to get new visas, has gotten sick so we're just going have our letters written by a teacher at the hogar (orphanage) until she gets better and we can go hopefully next week (another adventure outside the compound. No espero!) We will aslo begin our work at the guardaria tomorrow overseeing some computer classes and maybe teaching a little English (still uncertain).

All in all, right now I feel a lot better than when I first came yesterday. Not as many tears any more, just a strong desire to begin so I can get into the flow of things. When the year yawned before me, I just took a breath and said, "okay. Two days are already behind me, that's an accomplishment." Changes are beginning in me. I am feeling more comfortable here and Spanish vocabulary is falling into my thoughts, spoken and written words. Little by little, I think I can hang of this thing. I know I can get the hang of this.

Keep praying for me and all the other Salesian Lay Missioners all over the world. <3

why?

[Prologue: This is the blog for my time as a Salesian Lay Missioner; living in Montero, Bolivia as a teacher at El Centro Sagrado Corazon for about a year 2013- 2014]

"Why?" I expect this is the question most of you would think to ask when hearing about how I plan to spend this next year. Let me preface my answer with a story:

Luke 2:41-52
     "Each year his parents went to Jerusalem for the feast of passover, and when he was twelve years old, they went up according to festival custom. After they had completed its days, as they were returning, the boy Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Thinking that he was in the caravan, they journeyed for a day and looked for him among their relatives and acquaintances, but not finding him, they returned to Jerusalem to look for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions, and all who heard him were astounded at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him they were astonished, and his mother said to him, "Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety." And he said to them, "Why were you looking for me? Did you not know I must be in my Father's house?" But they did not understand what he said to them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; his mother kept all these things in her heart. And Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and favor before God and man."

In modern terms Jesus says, "Duh. Isn't it obvious that I had to be where God wants me?" I feel likewise about my call to mission: it's where I need to be so why would I be doing anything else right now? Why not?

It's hard to pinpoint exactly how or where my journey here all began. To be honest though, it began long before I was even born. And I realize that may seem lofty, but it's true! God knows His plans for us when we're nothing more than just an idea in His mind: since the beginning of time.

Basically put, I've always felt a strong desire to help the world on a large, global scale. When I entered college, I struggled with what to major in. I remember saying to my oldest brother, "I want a career that helps a lot of people all over the world, but also allows me to live comfortably and I don't how to marry those two ideals together." I see this as an environmental goal and also as a societal goal. I ended up going to a year two college and just graduated last May from the Honors College with my Associates in Liberal Arts.

Backtrack to high school, my youth group was affiliated with the Salesians. Salesians are the Society of St. Francis de Sales, Roman Catholic, founded by Saint John Bosco in Italy dedicated mainly to education and mission work. Don Bosco is know as the "friend of the young and the poor". There is something unique about the Salesian spirit that is hard to define. If I had to though, I'd say the Salesian spirit is welcoming and fun. Faith and fun as one. Through the Salesians I took part in their Gospel Roads program which are week long service retreats. This allowed me to do volunteer work in New Jersey, Washington, D.C., Alabama and New Orleans.

Fast Forward again to the end of my time at college. New Year's and once again I resolve not to make any resolutions because I know that I won't keep them anyway. But while talking to some friends about what comes next, I believe this year could be different. Most were transferring after their two years to continue to a four year school and get a Bachelor's degree. I couldn't confidently say that's what I wanted to do. I still was unsure about what to major in and I can't go on until I have a clearer understanding of where my academic career is taking me. Also if I did go on somewhere else, I was afraid I would be trapped on the American Dream conveyor belt. I'd go to college --> get a degree --> get a job --> get a family --> be stuck. I still had these grandiose plans to travel (but not necessarily to be touristy) and if I kept on that conveyor belt I didn't know when the opportunity to do so would arise. Someone at the diner that evening mentioned the Salesian Lay Missioners (SLMs) and a distant memory stirred. I'd heard the name before but hadn't bothered to look it up much because I was too young.

My interest piqued. I began to research the program again. It made so much sense! I just make the requirements: I have a college degree, I will be the minimum age when I depart (I have to wait until September 19), it fulfills my desire to serve on a large scale, I already love Salesians, there's not much holding me to stay on Long Island. So I applied and here I am; I'm doing it. All signs point to NOW. This is the time to reach out and find my limits (if they even exist): do something that scares me: do something to help others: learn about a new culture and it's beautiful people.