Coming Home

 Upon getting out of the car and getting my belongings, I gave Steven a hug and a goodbye. We had experienced so much together in this car, this space for many hours, days at a time. And now it was all coming to an end, and we were about to live our separate lives in separate places and in different states. I didn't feel overcome with emotion like I thought I might but I did feel melancholy, and just processing everything the past few days. 

I wished him luck with the start of his job and training, and I could tell a twinkle in his eye was a bit sad too that I was leaving- his older sister who had accompanied him on this trip and seen all the new sights and excursions together for the first time, and helping him move into his new apartment in Houston. It would be a transition for us both, and I was prepared for that.

I was grateful at how calm I felt entering the Hobby airport. I hadn't flown in about 3 years, but luckily had enough exposure of flying alone. It went smoothly and I was grateful to have gotten a window seat twice, and see the vast land and mountain terrains that we had driven by just a few days prior. But it felt like a whirlwind. I was still processing everything, all the scenery, the many hours my brother and I had together everyday, seeing the Haslams in San Antonio and how special that was, even if only for a few hours. I was thinking more about family. I had seen family, was in contact with family via WhatsApp for updates and pictures on our trip, I was with family the weekend prior celebrating my brother's birthday and milestone of getting a job and moving away. 

The various locations of family was also interesting to think about. Most of us were in California, and with my sister's map she had placed tacks where each of us were living. Steven would be the second addition to family in Texas. Once I came back home after a very busy and constant, beautiful yet tiring, memorable trip I felt different. I didn't feel so much 'loss' or adjustment as I thought I would with Steven not here and not in California. Instead, I have felt the shift of wondering where the future will take me, and where will be my place to call home? I have seen all of my siblings' lives move and uproot to their place of belonging either for a season or for a long time. The saying 'bloom where you are planted' has literally been the motto, and of course its been interesting, beautiful, exciting, though it hasn't always been easy.

I have seen so much transition and change in a years time. It has been a lot easier than it used to be, and something that I have accepted. I know that I can learn and grow from it, and that it too is a season. I also know that its something that God is preparing me for, for the next steps, the next jump or move. Sometimes our very crosses, challenges, and pains can be a blessing and a gift. I am realizing how I can continue to be a gift for others, to family in my free time, availability, but also in my listening and presence. I know God has me here for a reason, and has given me these learning curves and transitions as opportunities to trust, grow, as I continue to follow the plan He has for me. 

Enkindled Memories of a Friend

 Traveling brought with it its own sense of memories and wanderlust. While on the road with my brother, especially as we were starting out and still in California, I recalled the time I was with my oldest brother 10 years ago in June. We were also driving together, but not nearly as far, just to LA area. He was driving me to an Opus Dei Center where I would be staying for a week for a program for high school and college catholic women called 'Lights, Camera, Action'. And he was making the trip to LA himself for potential teaching jobs. I remember on the way, he was practicing interview questions and was having me ask some so he could practice articulating his answers. It was a nice 6 hour drive or so together, and one that I will always remember. I had just graduated high school and wasn't even planning on attending this program. I was somewhat familiar with it since some of my sisters also attended. It was a last minute decision and plan for me, but glad and grateful I decided to. 

With seeing different states, scenery the thought of old memories and friends began to emerge. I was somehow all of a sudden reliving former emails, phone conversations with an old friend. Some of it brought on nostalgia from the days of high school and early college when we were closer, and were frequently in contact. I recall the summer after high school nearly talking on the phone with her everyday. We always had something to talk about and catch up on or laugh about. 

While I was in the 'Lights, Camera, Action' program we were in touch a lot, texting regularly and talking on the phone a few times. She was taking her first college summer course and I was experiencing the height of the scenic views of Hollywood, and learning about the film industry with guests speakers, tours to Sony and Warner Brothers and celebrating my 19th birthday. I remember she was eager to know what I was learning and experiencing since she was interested in film and stories and thought of it as a possible major, aiming and desiring for UCLA.

I looked back at old emails and conversations we had. I realized how much we could talk about, various topics and ones of common interest that we hadn't explored while in high school, most probably because I wasn't that revealing of my personal interests and just a private person. I thought of her because I was traveling. She did the Peace Corps and started a blog, writing down some of her adventures and experiences, intense and beautiful with host families, long and tiring work days with English lessons and teaching, adjustments, and the Spanish language. 

Though I've never done the Peace Corps and committed to a long term work experience abroad, I can relate in my own way with language. I've been to a Spanish speaking country- El Salvador, and while she was doing the Peace Corps, I was in the same continent for 2 weeks in Rio de Janerio, Brazil for studying abroad program and Portuguese is only spoken there. And I know how it feels to 'fall in love' with a language or culture even if from a far, like my pursuit of Arabic, and now French. 

I'm not sure how or why I thought of this old friend, but I'm assuming the adventure, thrill, unpredictably of travel made it so. It was refreshing, breathtaking, exhausting and exciting to be on the road and see new places and spaces, states I have never seen before nor knew what they looked like. And in some ways to experience a new culture, at least in passing and from a distance like the country western and slow pace ness that you only feel when you leave a place you're familiar with. 

These flashbacks bring with it a certain nostalgia, but also gratitude for those times and memories, seasons and conversations that brought with it its own spice of interest, variety, ambition and memories. Sometimes our mind does that, remembering a person or a time as a reminder. It reminds me of who I am and who I was, though the two aren't very different. Perhaps its God who reminds me and leads these memories for another inspiration and purpose. 

An Adventure Together

 Coming home yesterday felt surreal. After being on the road for 5 days and passing through 3 in a half states, leaving California, seeing Arizona, New Mexico, coming through Texas and seeing family in San Antonio and then finally Houston has been a special, somewhat intense and exhausting, memorable, whirlwind road trip. 

I never thought I would do a trip like this let alone with my brother. He landed his first ICU nursing job in Houston, Texas and invited me to join him for this epic journey all the way to Texas. I was only slightly hesitant, thinking about travel by car with just the two of us and then me flying back home. But as I thought and pondered it, I knew the answer would be yes. How could I pass up an opportunity like this? Such a milestone for my younger brother, and not sure when I would see him next. It would also be a good experience, and a trip that we would always remember. He even said that we could see the Grand Canyon on the way! I've wanted to see this world wonder for sometime now and was even thinking of seeing it sometime this summer. With an opportunity like this, I knew it was an additional reason to go with him and experience this memorable adventure alongside with him. 

For part of the trip, I kept thinking about Our Lady and how she went lengths to visit and accompany her cousin Elizabeth who was also expecting later in years, John the Baptist. I thought of Our Lady's commitment, generosity, charity and support. The first long days of travel felt quite intense with being in the car for many, many hours and a lot of time seeing beautiful yet similar scenery for long hours at time. The tiredness of sitting, and travel and being on a time constraint were things to adapt to. But thinking of the Visitation was helpful in how I could continue to support Steven on this trip as well as his adjustment to Texas.

St. Joseph came to mind a lot as well. His tender care and love, protection and support of Our Lady when they were traveling on donkey to find a place to stay, or when it was unsafe for them and they had to flee to Egypt as refugees for their baby son, Jesus to be safe from Herod's evil tactics and malicious hands. St. Joseph was the one leading and brought Mary to the stable to give birth since there was no room anywhere else. I knew St. Joseph was leading us on our long and tiring journey to get to our destinations safely and on time. 

There was one night when we were in Albuquerque, New Mexico and driving through heading to our destination for that night. The city, Santa Rosa didn't feel that nice or safe and it was getting later in the evening. The place that my brother and I were planning to stay didn't look all that great either, a simple motel. It also looked closed, though the sign said open. We eventually talked to the man and he confirmed that we didn't have a reservation and that he was booked for a number of weeks. We were confused and figured the Expedia didn't go through on their end so we had to find something else. We were tired and exhausted from driving, had seen the Grand Canyon that morning and were ready to call it a day. 

We tried 2 more places in hopes of finding an opening. One place we briefly looked at and it liked less safe to me than the prior one, and with a barking dog outside someone's door, it didn't feel very comforting let alone for a good nights sleep with a loud dog. We scratched that idea and attempted with another motel, somewhat similar to the last one. And when the guy finally let us in, it seemed sketchy to me, and there were only smoking rooms available. We knew we had to find something else, as the man stated there more further down we could try. But it didn't seem like much left, and it was approaching 10pm. I didn't feel that safe in that area and especially at night, but luckily with my brother, I felt okay. I told Steven, lets say a Hail Mary to St. Joseph to help us find a safe and nice enough and affordable place to stay the night and to get a good nights rest. We tried a motel chain across the way that looked like an upgrade from all the rest we'd seen, and it felt safer with more rooms and not so close to the street. My brother went inside to ask and sure enough he they had something available. I knew it was to St. Joseph that we could get a good nights sleep and feel safe that night.

Driving through Arizona, New Mexico and a good portion of Texas was very eye opening for me. I never considered how much land there is among these states, the agriculture, the rural land, and the mountain ranges in Arizona that display a reddish burnt color that makes you think of the Grand Canyon. I also thought a lot of the Pixar movie 'Cars' since it was set in that area and Route 66 which we took. The pace was very different because I'm used to suburban, city life not country. The music I would play from my CDs would go nicely since a number of them were from my favorite band, Lord Huron which is an Indie/Folk genre. 

I feel that I could focus on the roadways and whatever happened this past school year, it felt all behind me. I was just enjoying the present moment and scenery with my brother and embracing this trip as well as the summer ahead. There were a lot of things to laugh about either in the moment or reminisce about later, such as the street play in Williams, Arizona that he kept replaying the recorded video he took, and talking about it since we didn't quite understand it because we missed some of it. It took a while to adjust that it was just me and Steven. I'm so used to having a sister around, or another woman like my mom. It was a learning curve to realize that him and I were experiencing this altogether yet how different we are- he's choleric, melancholy, introvert, and I believe to be a 'J' in the Myers-Brigg and myself- a phlegmatic melancholy and  a 'P', and definitely a sensitive introvert. 

But I think considering everything, it went well and we got along because we are very different and opposite; I also think we helped each other. Towards the end of the trip, I asked him ,'So, are you sick of me yet?' And he said no right away, and I said 'Yeah, I'm not really sick of you either.' I think also what helped in creating and sharing memories was laughing. 

There is a lot more to say and write, but I will stop here now. To be continued..

Lessons Learned Along the Way

 This is the last week of school. Personally, I can't wait, and I'm sure I'm not the only one, especially with this year of zoom call after zoom call of virtual learning and classrooms. Of seeing pixels on the screen of faces of the students or just ceilings or just tops of foreheads, or better yet just profile pictures marking the camera off mode as most comfortable. I feel like I've been sitting the whole school year, at my desk, in my comfy chair, looking out the majestic mountain that showcases through landscape mode through the windows in the classroom. But my inner emotions, my inner world, my heart and my head have done the exact opposite of sitting. Its done back flips, and leaps, sinks and swims, runs of joy, and peace and walks through desert, tears, loneliness and doubt. 

Not just sitting at my job, in classrooms and zoom rooms, but the daily drives as well as the visits to the  blessed sacrament chapel, and sitting and praying for a while. On the outside, it easily appears that perhaps not much is happening, things look the same. But I know that when I started the school year and where I am now are two very different places, that I wouldn't have ever predicted to where this journey would go and evolve, unfold and develop in its own time. We know in our faith that at the time of transubstantiation in the Mass, the bread and wine are no longer bread and wine, they are the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. Though it appears and tastes like bread and wine, we know it isn't any longer. The meaning, the purpose has changed, and we believe it is holy, it is sacred, it is Jesus Himself. 

This transformation I can easily see clearly now after this long, tumultuous, hard, isolating, deepening, interesting, purposeful school year. I use this word 'purpose' surprisingly, since for a long while I didn't understand, I didn't see the purpose in what I was doing, how it was playing out. I was thinking of it just today, what was the purpose of going through this crazy school year? And I received some clearer answers, mostly where it brought me with my program to pursue a MLIS. 

But also perhaps God wanting me to learn key virtues such as patience, perseverance, hope, faith, fortitude, trust. He didn't bring on these various challenges and sufferings for no purpose, or simply because I deserve them, but firstly because He loves me. God is always close to us in a special and intimate way in our sufferings. I believe also enduring it was for my salvation, and the salvation for souls, as I think a lot of various hard parts in life God can use for our good and our gain. 

This school year also brought with it ways to be innovative. This year, it felt like it was my middle name. From using my time well when not a lot was happening, I wasn't very busy in classes, or just lack of interaction mostly due to zoom and technology, was always a struggle. I started bringing books with me to read, language studies like French to turn to for dire inspiration and learning. Not to mention, the many, many times of browsing the library catalog requesting books of interest or just reviewing my dashboard page to see which books have come in. 

There's also been the increase of desire to put my work into a form of prayer, and be attentive to the Mass, the readings or any simple prayers or aspirations, such as the memorare. Also, the flexibility of being able to go to Mass was very crucial for me, in reciting the many graces and strength I would need. These have also been life savors in helping me grow, to enhance in my spiritual life amidst the mundane and ordinary. And its been a great lesson, as well as bringing about more peace and joy even in the hard parts. 

These are some lessons I've learned and a look back at the year, very abridged. The memories, the notes, doodles in my notebooks, the pictures throughout these months all showcase this and remind me of the story of it all. It's one that's made me stronger and showed me a depth I didn't know I had, an endurance that God has graced me with. Its all grace, its all a gift, and with hands and arms open, this is what I have to show for it, and I hope its pleasing to Him. 

Fall

Just the first few weeks!

A prayer from Immacule, a favorite author

Visiting the SJSU Library Science Admin Building

Those smoky, grey, chalk skies from the fires

The fan says summer, but the shawl made by mom speaks Fall!

Fun French names inspired to write down

Babysitting Santiago on a warm October afternoon

Winter

The lovely saint cookbook

Running in the rain

Reading this really interesting book for my class, in one of my favorite spaces:)

Those pink and orange morning skies

Babysitting Luna, a cat and confidant to snuggle with

Spring

Studying French the last week of school, and the ending of online learning!

Avila Beach!

A favorite wishing note found in the Botanical Garden- "I wish to visit the Eiffel Tower"

The famous Christmas kitty taking a nap, and nice company

Visiting San Antonio Mission with Dad

The Language of the Spirit

 With this feast of Pentecost, comes the universal church as well as one universal language of the Holy Spirit. There are some excerpts from this weekend's readings regarding this. "The whole world spoke the same language, using the same words." (Genesis 11:1). " 'Let us do down there and confuse their language, so that one will not understand what another says'. Thus the Lord scattered them from there all over the earth, and they stopped building the city. That is why it was called Babel, because here the Lord confused the speech of all the world" (Genesis 11:7-9). 

And further, "When the time for Pentecost was fulfilled, they were all in one place together. And suddenly there came from the sky a noise like a strong driving wind, and it filled the entire house in which they were. Then there appeared to them tongues as of fire, which parted and came to rest on each one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in different tongues, as the Spirit enabled them to proclaim." (Acts of the Apostles 2:1-4). There is this reference to Jesus breathing on His disciples the second week of Easter and receiving His spirit, and His peace, as well as them witnessing His wounds. This breath is life, and its in the true faith we live and receive this Holy Spirit. 

I think about this language of the Holy Spirit, and how all people, nations can interpret and understand in one's own language. I'm reminded of my own language studies and how it gives me life. Just yesterday, I met up with my dear sister and we talked about language and both of our endeavors, and interests related to it. 

We also browsed through a book store and of course immediately went to the language section looking through language books. She went straight to the Spanish books, and I was scanning for languages I've learned, briefly dabbled in, or am currently learning. I looked at Arabic books, and scanned the French ones but not needing more. I was looking in the European languages, and they had 2 full rows of German, but no sight of Finnish, which is a language I'm interested in starting learning (and its not a Germanic language). I was also looking at extra misc language books or Asian section to see if they had any Tagalog/Filipino since its a language I just started learning. They had one book, but its one I already have borrowed from the library:)

I'm not sure where these 'new' language studies will take me. I find that my mind is in many places at once, thinking of a region of the world I want to learn about, and with that usually comes cuisine and language, and perhaps history. I don't really know what my 'true' language goals are, unlike my sister who has studying and practicing the same language for a number of years, excelling and progressing. But I know its been different for me, and that's why I can count on my 2 hands all of the languages I've learned, some more in depth than others- but I can't say I can count on my fingers the numbers in all these languages! ha

Perhaps the Holy Spirit is guiding me throughout this journey of language endeavors and interests, or perhaps sometimes its may just be my nature and personality to be inspired and full of ideas. Maybe its one of my spiritual gifts to be open to trying out something new. I remember taking a test last year, and one of my spiritual gifts was 'missionary' which has to do with being open and interested in integrating with different cultures and languages. As one of the readings says today, "There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; there are different forms of service but the same Lord; there are different workings but the same God who produces all of them in everyone" (St. Paul to the Corinthians). 

A Pentecost Mass

 Happy Pentecost!! The feast of the Holy Spirit and the Birthday of the Church. Yesterday, I went to the first Mass of a newly ordained priest who spent one of his years in seminary helping out in that parish, about 2 years ago. He celebrated his first Mass at that parish. It was a very beautiful Mass, with many priests and deacons concelebrating, what a truly joyous feast. The new priest didn't give his first homily, he had a friend priest give it and mention the holy and lively feast of Pentecost. He also elaborated on how as humans we love to be in control- of situations, people, but how we need to let the Spirit lead us, and guide us and let it go. 

At the Mass was also the former pastor of this parish, and whom I would regularly go to for Confession and Spiritual Direction. He came a little late, and I saw him enter through the side doors, close to the side I was sitting on. I thought it would be so interesting and nostalgic for him to return again to his former parish, a church he had served at for 8 years and had so many fond and special memories. He abruptly was transferred right when the Pandemic hit hard and there was no formal goodbye for him. I'm sure it was also quite beautiful, emotional and other feelings I can't put words to for him to see the community again, his old parishioners and see how much the parish has changed in a good way, small and larger adaptations since his departure. 

He came around to my side of the pews for holy communion and I received communion from him. And later, while exiting the back doors, I saw my parents outside where they and many others viewed the Mass, and also saw a familiar face from the ministry from a few years ago. As I was talking with this contact, we saw the priest pass by and we said hi to him and talked briefly. I hadn't ever talked with this priest outside the confessional, I'm sure he saw me often at the church and his masses. But it was  through a screen that I would tell him my sins, and receive his peaceful demeanor and gentle spirit for some spiritual help. 

I remember how painful it was for me knowing that he was leaving and transitioning to another parish. I also remember that I wrote about it here on my blog because I felt so strongly about it, with a lot going on, it was another added change and unknown. Part of me thought of that memory and that big transition for me, (which honestly took a couple of months to fully adapt to), and how that rocky and emotional feeling wasn't there anymore. I appreciate this priest and his gifts, but I don't miss him and his presence in the church like I used to. I don't feel the need to continue going to him for the sacraments like I had used to thinking of last year. And I don't feel so attached to those memories as I once did. I realize the many gifts of this new pastor at the parish, as well as the very different ones, and very different temperament and personality as well. 

I find it interesting to have these thoughts, and feelings about it. I sense that I'm in a new phase and not always so clinging to once was, though of course it was very special and enriching for that time and purpose. I think this also has to do with how the Holy Spirit is always with us and guiding us to where He wants us to be, and to go. 

I could really sense the Spirit yesterday with the very special and beautiful Mass, with the music and the very touching words the new priest gave at the end of Mass, thanking everyone and especially his parents (also in Vietnamese) and his fellow priests and friends there. I could sense the Spirit with the gathering outside, most people lined up to receive a blessing from this new, fresh and vibrant priest, as well as conversing with the former acquaintance from ministry, and just sensing the liveliness from the parish, all in red vestments, and red and orange flowers and bouquets strewed about, it truly was a feast- not to mention the food boxes that they gave out at the end. 

May the Holy Spirit continue to guide us to where He wants and wills us to be, and speak to our hearts. Our hearts that are burning with His love, His peace that only He can give.

A Heart Journey

 I was at the same Starbucks today that I was at 6 months ago. I can remember it well. It was also a Wednesday and it was Veterans Day. It was a somewhat cold and cloudy day but the dark blue and gray hues of the sky shimmered from my seat and the landscape breathed in its beauty majestically. There was anticipation, excitement as well as inspiration for the near future. I had recently applied to the MLIS program and felt really ready for a change in schedule as well as an enticing challenge that filled my spirit with possibilities. It had already been a very challenging Fall, one that I think I will remember for a while. There was a lot of inner struggle, interior hardship being shifted, processed and chiseled like God was working on my heart and gently whispering in my ear of His plan little by little. Most days, I felt I was blindly walking in faith, and not very often receiving consolations that we can easily rely on in our faith. 

On that day, there was a sense of hope, and a joy that was interconnected with an inspiration in a way I hadn't fully experienced. It had been a few years since I had been a student, and months since I had felt productive, useful and busy to really feel like I was using my God given talents. This step like the right direction to take, but there was also a lot unknown, and that continued with trust. 

I think having that day off and being at a Starbucks cultivated this much needed inspiration and light that was headed on the horizon. I didn't know how it would all play out, let alone if I would be accepted to the program. Having a varied schedule with work (though would still be pretty slow) and school was very exciting and like I had an inner leap within me. 

I couldn't help but remember and think of it all today. Today was the day that I found out how I did on my long, tedious and daunting research paper, as well as my class as a whole. I was relieved, surprised and overjoyed of my well passing grade and high score on my paper that I wouldn't have guessed but only hoped for. I really felt like my prayers were answered, specifically to St. Joseph and St. Anthony of Padua. And these saints as well as a few others I prayed to throughout this semester as well as just before it begun, the moments like 6 months back when I wasn't sure what would happen. 

The blog I started and created for my course was a fun and unique experience. It was part of this course requirement to write on our school blog and have our fellow classmates read and learn from each other's. I named mine chalk coeur, coeur meaning heart in French. I had a deeper meaning behind it about how our hearts lead and tell us what we are passionate about, and how listening to them reveals something greater. But chalk coeur isn't all about following our passions, but personally it describes part of my artsy side with the word 'chalk'. The background of my blog is like a painting with vibrant color.

 But I think most importantly, chalk coeur goes back to those chalk hearts drawn on the ground at work last spring when students in a science class were learning about the functions and intricacies of the heart. That was the same time when my dear sister and brother-in-law found out about the diagnosis of their sweet baby boy Ignacio Rafael's HLHS heart condition while in utero. The prayers that could easily be thought of or spoken was when I would walk passed these chalk hearts drawn so largely and precisely, and automatically think of my dear nephew and God son. I wanted to dedicate these writings of this school blog to that moment, since I knew Ignacio would be with me in spirit, like he always has. He is close to God and is interceding for us, his family here below. 

This journey is just the beginning. I hope to continue to do well in my future classes and endeavors with this program. So far, it has given me purpose, a future, encouragement, and deep peace and joy to start on this path. I look forward to what's ahead and what else I will learn, grow in. It feels surreal to wrap up this semester, this first step, but I think its one for celebration. It's been a very unique, personal, and rewarding journey all its own. 

Those Circle Days

 Memories came back to me with my circle days with Opus Dei. My sweet sister had recently met up with a former spiritual advisor and hearing about it drew me back and flooded me with memories, anecdotes and days of youth and Catholic doctrine and talks. I could quickly envision her facial expressions, her voice and how she looked as she spoke and caught up with my sister after 6 years of passing. 

This woman who is directly affiliated with Opus Dei was in my life for a number of years. I first met her I think right before she was going to become the new director for the all girls camp I would help out with. I was soon to be a junior counselor and head into high school and she had a big task in front of her- heading all the big duties and behind scenes for the camp to function and dealing with us crazy, young and hyper junior counselors and more mature and experienced counselors. 

As I was finishing high school and heading to college a circle or a faith based talk in spirituality was starting up that September with other girls like me, living their faith in the modern world and college age. I already knew most of them from the camp days, but also coincidentally, a majority of them were my sister's friends. They got to know me better and see how different I am, and not just a younger version or copy of my sister. This spiritual advisor was also there leading and giving the talks weekly, and we would meet in a cute and inspiring café roma on the busy, interesting and eclectic streets of Berkeley. I had flashbacks on these days, these fun, eventful and light days commuting from school to the busy city, a large contrast to my daily activities and duties in suburban vill. 

And I recall grasping another world, environment quite different from my own. The introvert in me was quite content with commuting on my own and often times in my own head with music streaming for musing and also so I would feel a bit safer on public transit. Each week, I was able to open up a little more about my school, classes and transitioning to college. The other girls (mostly my sister's friends) were a few years ahead of me in college and some at elite universities such as UC Berkeley. The stirrings of coffee, the gentle music on the piano, and the talkers and studiers, newspaper readers who kept the seats and tables company, sometimes lingering in the café were part of the experience. The experience of listening and talking about faith and spirituality in a secular, ordinary environment like this one, and a city with hippies, students, homeless, soul searches all around. 

I decided to find and open my former notebook used for these circle talks and reread some of the notes, going on 9, 10 years ago. There are some parts of it I miss, if I were honest. It was a sacrifice with the commute and longer Wednesdays, but there were a lot of good memories throughout, it was a special time and I think I treasure some of it too. The formation was good, important and beautiful, and I still admire that about Opus Dei. Every so often in the last few weeks, I've been browsing through the website of talks, content, prayers for my own formation. I like to read a blog of a member who I find very uplifting and inspiring. 

I remember our adventures in Berkeley afterwards. The few of us young college girls and Marissa would explore and have some fun enjoying the eclectic vibe of the city's offerings. One or two times we ate at Mexican Burrito place, or try out an Indian restaurant. A few times on Wednesday evenings we would go to 'Off the Grid' also known as Food Trucks that were parked all in a line from different ethnic foods. And there were chairs, streamers of lights and a small band strumming music to add to the flavor of the night. It was a weeknight, a school night, but being with like minded girls in a lively city was an excursion and a treat all its own. 

I remember there were times when temperaments was a common topic we would discuss. Are you phlegmatic, choleric, sanguine or melancholy? I enjoy debriefing the 4 temperaments but there were (many) instances when my phlegmatic side was highly noticed, and even dare I say, made fun of. The passive side of me knows it too well, and it was I'm sure all fun and games and teasing but the 19 or 20 year old me got easily hurt, shut down and felt misunderstood. Not trying to be funny but somehow was funny with the others laughing or sharing stories with my sister had me scratching my head. 

I never really wanted to admit that I was all that phlegmatic, but until recently I took a test and gave me the results of splitting even with my more preferred melancholy side. I have come to accept, and embrace this side of me, not always loving it or feeling more put down about it, I too would associate it as more negative. I have learned to see more good, as well as things that can be improved (like all temperaments). 

Just yesterday, I met up with my sweet sister to give her her dear cat back in Emeryville. The crazy and busyness of the city vibe reminded me directly of my circle time with those girls and Marissa, with Berkeley not being too far away. I remember one time after circle, my friend and I who were pen pals for years and years went to Ikea to explore and somehow I remember that excursion with her whenever I pass Ikea, (as well as the Swedish meatballs that my mom, dear sister and I tried in summer of 2013!) 

My sister and I met up there and I exchanged her Christmas kitty, with his eyes all a glow and his meows as quiet as a mouse. We also went inside Ikea since she had never been inside. It felt like everyone had the same idea, with an overcrowded feel and somewhat claustrophobic, with the poor cat being carried in his carrier all throughout the congested store. But I was reminded later, with all the craziness and stimulation noise and crowded freeways of those special, distinct, and memorable circle days in a noisy, busy city that continues to bustle. 

I feel that I can finally start slowing down, and thinking about this has been nice to reflect upon. I feel like I'm pretty much the same person, of course older, more mature and understanding of who I am. I think we are all a work in progress but those times I don't seem to forget too easily. 

He Writes My Story

 I'm in the middle of working on my research paper, and somehow thoughts come to me that distract me in some ways but make me reflect in others. Right when I was delving into an article to gain further research information more and taking notes on, my mind traced back to last Saturday. 

Last Saturday, my two other dear sisters and I had a sister meet up where my dear sister has newly moved to. It was so nice to be together again, and catch up in person but also to be in another area. It was a beautifully, warm day and we had lunch at a quant restaurant, took a walk near the water and laughed and talked as close sisters do. But something was happening in my heart, a feeling of perhaps not being fully caught up with processing the week, of fully not being slowed down to enjoy the present, or not having the full attention of the moment to appreciate and rejoice in others' lives who felt like were 'moving on', 'going ahead' and me feeling the same as I've been with not a lot of change. This feeling of comparison and looking too much to the right, too long at the left and leads to these feelings of being sad, bitter, lonely, uncertain, but they don't lead to good.

It was a week that to be honest felt unbalanced with more social media time than real attentiveness to my inner self and prayer. More noise in my head and heart than room for silence and quiet. More to do lists and stresses that began to cloud my vision and aggravate me instead of giving it all to the hands of God. And allowing petty moods, feelings and situations to dictate and control the rest of my day. I guess a lot of it has to do with being human and how fickle we can be at times, but also how much control we can have of our own attitudes, awareness, self reflection and choices we make throughout our days. All these things felt like they were still there, still lingering when I met up with my dear sisters, and unfortunately I wasn't at my best. I hadn't felt free from all these things, my mind and my heart were trying to catch up with it all. 

I'm reminded by the book I'm reading about Mother Teresa and her spiritual and inner darkness she went through and deeply felt and experienced for many years. Overtime she came to accept and embrace it as her cross,  as a sign of loving Jesus and consoling his heart in his bitter sufferings, as well as saving souls for Him. But you notice that she's always smiling whenever we see pictures of her, and I wonder how could she smile when all she felt was deep loneliness, darkness and feeling of emptiness and separation from God? She united her self so willingly, so lovingly to God's will, and letting Him do as He pleases. I continue to be amazed of her spiritual darkness, and her trust in Him blindly. 

It's something that I want to emulate, in my own crosses. It's easy to think, 'what's happening', 'why do I feel or experience this?' But instead of playing the victim, I think its important to trust, trust that God knows exactly why and that's all that really matters. If we love, we will trust. 

Even if last weekend was filled with inner sufferings, emotions, tears, and deep melancholy, I can trust that God has a plan and as my sisters have told me reassuringly, He is preparing me for that plan, for His time, for the future. Sometimes it could be unbearable, but then other times His consolation fills it all with deep peace, joy and inner contentment- like this past week. Some days and weeks bring their own thing, and it builds upon our story, our journey in faith. I'm grateful this week was a lighter week for me, its a lesson to learn from, and He continues to write my story.

An Inner Light

 Today. I feel like I need to write it out because it has been a wonderful transition from the past few days of feeling low in spirits, and heavy feelings inside. I woke up early today, planning to see the sky just before sunrise and go to early Mass. I needed to start the day out right, on a light and joyful note. 

Going to Mass so early in the morning brought me back to Fall and Winter days, the cold, dark, crisp and eerily foggy mornings. Sometimes it would feel like the short days, and dark drawl would never end. Waking up this morning felt different, the sky was starting to lighten and the sun was away from the clouds. There was a pleasantness to it all, and suddenly my heart felt lighter. I woke up from a vivid and interesting dream, and part of what I remember had to do with me trying to speak Arabic.

 I thought and prayed to St. Anthony of Padua before I went to bed, having me wake up rested for early Mass, and sure enough I did. Even though my skin felt tight, and my eyes were puffy from yesterday, I felt ready for the day. I got to Mass a few minutes after it started, and later on I looked up and saw the stain glass image of St. Anthony of Padua to my upper left, and I was grateful he helped me wake up this morning.

I read the beautiful and peaceful excerpt of the Magnificat from St. Mother Teresa. And upon opening my old new notebook for work, I came across the prayer from her that I wrote down in that notebook a couple of years ago, written in Albanian and translated into English. It goes like, 'Life is one opportunity, benefit from it...life is a challenge, face it...life is sorrow, overcome it...life is love, enjoy it.' I remember I was interested in learning Albanian, but only for a few days! ha I'm currently reading her book of letters and about her spiritual darkness, 'Come Be My Light'.  I had to get a coffee after Mass because I was starting to feel tired, and sleepy. A busy Starbucks in the early morning, but nice to have something hot and sweet before work. 

And working on my assignment for my class, and creating a infographic was fun, but it took a while. Making it look a certain way with the text, colors, graphics I find creative and interesting. 

Overall, I feel that today has brought a new sense, a deeper and brighter light. After Mass I was thinking, nothing really matters, as long as I'm close to Jesus, that's all that matters in the end. 

A Creative Process

 I recently had a flashback, a thought from about a year ago. This week felt the exact opposite from a year ago. To give you a vague picture, last spring or (April) I had a lot of free, open time. I had horrible sleep anxiety and insomnia, and didn't feel very busy or productive due to the shut down and the COVID-19 pandemic. 

This spring and focusing on this week, I felt almost overwhelmed with assignments, and stressing about to do's for the upcoming days/ weeks. Seeing my books piled in my bookshelf and new ones recently checked out from the library only made me crave this inspiration of reading, yet knowing all the work that lay ahead. I have been sleeping well and been feeling tired when waking up, only wanting to sleep in more and take it slow. Last year, I wish I had a place to be, work to do that kept me stimulated and busy. I feel that now, and though of course I am grateful, but I also think its important to slow down when needed. 

This thought of mine also drifted back to a notebook. A year ago today, I wrote the first page of a notebook that was an extra one from my mom lying around. I wanted to use it to stay inspired and jot down notes and ideas for a potential story. I drew a big cloud like figure on the top of the page almost like a thought bubble with sun like rays and wrote, "I want to write another story. It will be different than the Noor series, with different characters, setting, but still similar in my writing, my style, memories and feelings. With this shelter in place, it will be good and fun to get back into writing again, creatively. We will see where this leads. :)" 

I also wrote down some ideas I had about language. I was currently studying Russian but still felt connected and compelled to progress with Arabic, but also felt like I was going back and forth between Russian and Hebrew. And I wrote at the end, "I think God also leads us to where our hobbies and interests will lead us."

On the back of that page, I was jotting down ideas for characters for the story I wanted to write, but not sure where to start or how to continue to stay inspired. I believe this quote from Picasso that says, "Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working." I've come back to this quote because I find it to be so true. For me at least, I become more inspired when there is variety, I'm busy, useful or productive in some way. And relaxing isn't routine, but a reward. 

I did write a story, months later, and sure enough it was when I was working. I wasn't very busy at work most days, or nearly at all. But being alone in a classroom on zoom, I needed to keep up this inspiration for myself and at the same time keep my mind busy. I slowly started thinking of characters, plot, and a world full of imagination to guide this inner world of story telling. I was somehow inspired by French since I was attempting to study it in my expansive free time, and French names kept coming up in my head and research and the inspiration grew from there. 

It was this same notebook that I've been taking with me to work these past couple of months for notes for my work, but also and very often for little notes and quotes, doodles and reminders for me to look at. When I was researching and discerning a Masters in Library Science, I jotted down notes. While reading good books, spiritual or other, I wrote down notes and quotes to fill a page or two or more and remember it for later as inspiration, positivity and encouragement in long, lonely, or isolated days. 

I'm now on my last page, and its ironic that a year ago I had just started with a few words of my thoughts, desires and ideas to continue to shape my world of inspiration, encouragement and imagination to pull me through the difficult and suffering days of last spring. In some ways, its also been helpful to continue with that theme these last couple of months. It's amazing really, to see it all in this perspective, after this momentous, challenging, interior school year. And the creative process is what I have to show for it.