Picking Fruit

 Yesterday going fruit picking, a favorite summer tradition, with my mom, sisters and sweet nephew reminded me of today's Gospel reading. "...By their fruits you will know them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? Just so, every good tree bears good fruit, and a rotten tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, not can a rotten tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire. So by their fruits you will know them" (Matthew 7:15-20). 

This fun summer activity of fruit picking is one that takes some discernment, knowing which fruit is ripe enough and not mushy, worm eaten or torn. And picking comes from the tree branches, not on the dirt ground, though little Santiago thought so. :) This Gospel message rings true in our lives, to know how we can bear good fruit, and if we are. The priest today on his homily stated its about being consistent with our prayer life and our everyday/ordinary life and do they match up? The good fruit and the bad fruit are such contrasts in themselves and its easy to see that while out in the orchards. But sometimes its not so easy to stumble upon within ourselves. It calls for a deeper reflection and self awareness. 

I find it interesting that my former blog title was 'Plum Tree'. It wasn't so much the fruit aspect spiritually or me really liking plums (I prefer pluots),  but more metaphorically speaking (as is common for me:)). And my other blog, 'Say Hello to the Fig Tree' that I sometimes write on, is another deeper meaning, and having to do with 'the fruit of our lives', referring to Jesus not seeing figs on the fig tree and cursing it. It implies further how we should always be striving for holiness in all seasons. 

This past year, there was a lot of pulling, growing, stretching, waiting and pain. It was a growing year that is for sure. But I think coming to the end of it, I see it as fruit growing and blooming. There were many thorns and difficulties but from it sprung a new growth, and a depth I hadn't encountered before. I hope to say that good fruit was being born, cultivated and picked throughout this trying year. 

Freshman Flurries

 Reminiscing about high school, now that its 10 years since graduating, there's an interesting and entertaining remembrance of it all. Here's to Freshman year, my memory of it, the good parts, funny parts, learning curves in the big world of drama, academics, popularity and finding your friend group. 

Surprisingly, I couldn't find many photos from my Freshman year. I also unfortunately couldn't find my notebook from that time. I wrote about my first day, my first impressions, and just other writings throughout the year. I would be surprised if I tossed it, but oh well, I will do my best to recall the distant memories. 

My sister and I experienced 2 years of high school together. She was a junior when I was a Freshman, and we went to school together in the morning, early morning, 7 am rather for first period class. Our dad dropped us off on his way to work, and then we would take the bus home together. There were interesting people we met while taking the bus, other students, classmates, peers who we would see regularly or get to know. It was like my sister and my own pilgrimage commuting together and then almost always getting off the bus a little early to go to the local church and make a visit in the chapel. It was a wonderful routine we had, but I didn't always understand it. Susie was always punctual and serious about making time for prayer after a busy school day, and then walk home a little longer distance together from the chapel. I sometimes would just want to go right home, but it was a very good habit and her example, conviction and passion for her faith at a young age was enlightening, inspiring and eye opening for me for my 15 year old self. 

Getting ready in the morning was enjoyable for me. I remember dressing up more than I normally did in middle school and started wearing make up regularly. I became concerned with the dark circles around my eyes, and always tried to apply foundation and liked to apply eye shadow. Fashion was something I was taking more interest in, and I remember I sometimes dressed more formally than Susie. I enjoyed dressing up or wearing fancy shoes- wedges! But part of me had a secret crush that I was aware of, but its kind of funny since I only had one class with him my whole time in high school, and it was P.E., a class you wear sporty clothes and get sweaty. I feel slightly embarrassed to admit, this crush of mine would linger until right before graduation, and then it all disappeared and I totally forgot all about it, and him.

I had recently had my braces off and was so happy about it. I had this annoying and embarrassing thing where one of my front side adult tooth never came in. So in 8th grade, the baby tooth got pulled off and I had a space there and it took a while getting used to and for others to not instantly notice that about me. It was a big insecurity of mine. I was excited for picture day going into 9th grade, but I realized I wouldn't have my bridged tooth in in time to make it look normal. I took the picture but decided to do a retake. The lady who saw my first picture asked why I was doing a retake. She wasn't sure why since she said I looked cute in my first photo but I told her about my missing tooth and now I had it filled in, but she still didn't understand why I didn't want to keep my first picture. I don't have that photo since the retake is in the year book, but I kind of wish I did since her comment was very reassuring and even though I had my 'fake tooth' in, it made me not worry as much as what others thought about my teeth or my smile.

The first day of school was a bit scary, but having my sister to reassure me was helpful and perhaps thinking I would see her during the day was an encouragement. I vividly remember some of my classes, such as 1st period English with Mr. Fuller and all his students getting some kind of card from a deck that would match with a seat placement in class. I would sit with 2 boys I knew from elementary school and a girl named Susie. I also remember Mr. Fuller called my home phone the afternoon before school started, but I wasn't home at that time, I was at the park relaxing and talking with my sister.

Another class I also remember well was my Math class with Mr. Meier. I got switched into this class for good reason, since it was a slower paced class of Algebra 1 and the stigma is you are likely classmates with other low performing math students, and a number them on the popular and annoying side. I did actually like this class and I'm grateful I was in it since I was scheduled to be with a supposedly hard teacher in a 'regular' math class. I had failed 8th grade math, so it was a wise decision that I was put in Mr. Meier's fun, quirky, and lighthearted class. 

The first day of school he instantly almost knew who I was, or rather, who I looked like. "You look like a spitting image of.." And then I said, "Elisabeth Redmond ?" Already knowing full well about him, this class and that my dear sister had him not too long before me, and he remembered that she was a great student since she was always clarifying and asking questions. And he said ecstatically, "Yeah! How is she doing?" I felt a little bit embarrassed having the attention and eyes all on me, but I could already sense he was a friendly with an open and warm demeanor. I told him my sister was a sophomore in college at SFSU. From then on, he too called me 'Redmond!', always in an excited and happy way. It made me feel special and felt like I was 'the good kid' after my sister made that first impression for me. A few months later my sister dropped in to say hi, as we both came in together and he I remember he was happy to see a former student of his, and again my classmates were all just watching haha.

Overall, I liked that class, and I was pleased I was understanding the material and doing well on quizzes and tests, so unlike the year before with my fast paced, intimidating Algebra teacher. But there became one thing I began to dread, and dislike early on. It was a boy in this class who tired to talk to me, come up with things to say, face me, and I just found it annoying. He was one of the more socially awkward classmates, and I had no interest in getting to know him or giving him any attention. Homecoming was coming around and he didn't full on ask me directly to homecoming but he wanted to know if I was going to go. I also had no interest in going to that dance, I just wasn't excited about it and caring about high school dances hadn't seeped in yet. I told him I wasn't going and he asked why. I said that I wasn't very excited about going. 

The next Monday he asked me (I think our desks were right next to each other) if he had to give a girl flowers if he were to ask a girl to a dance. I thought it was weird and made me uncomfortable as if he would hand me flowers directly in class. I think some people in that class already knew that he liked me and even when he asked me the flower question I remember I heard a girl near me say, 'awww'. I was afraid he would hand me flowers the next day, but to my fortunate luck he didn't, and I think he got the hint. But throughout the school year he would try to keep talking to me as I remember and ask about my weekend or what book I was reading since I was reading in class (it was Anne of Avonlea!). I remember that class well.

Freshman year brought about its own challenges with creating new friendships and savoring old ones from middle school. From the advice of one of my sisters, was to make an effort and even just introduce yourself and start talking to someone since everyone was in the same boat. So in P.E. class the first week there was a lot of standing around and I didn't really know anyone, so I approached a girl who was also alone and I started talking with her, her name was Chloe. We became friends in that class which was a life savor since P.E. can be a weird and awkward class especially if you don't have people to make it more enjoyable. 

At lunch time on the first day of school, I was trying to find somewhere to sit or someone I recognized. All of a sudden I heard someone calling my name, and I didn't know what direction it was coming from. I turned and then saw my former friend Ariel. I met her in elementary school but shared an English class with her in 8th grade and we became closer. We sat together at lunch that day and I was grateful to find a familiar face and friend to last at least part of Freshman year, (its a long story).

Freshman year had things outside school such as basketball (my last year playing with PYB) and dad coaching my team. And also starting confirmation classes with Susie (I was only the Freshman, but the teacher knew I was mature enough, and no one else knew), the majority were sophomores. My oldest sister had her first child that spring, so we had special and quality time seeing them and my parents experiencing being grand parents for the first time and myself and all of my siblings, the gift of being aunts and uncles! I also helped out with a catholic girls camp each summer and had planning meetings and functions with other girls throughout the school year.

Another class I took was French. I had taken it only it in 8th grade but the class was surprised how much I knew since I learned the basics from my good teacher, Madame Ottoway the year prior. Freshman year I also got really into classic old movies, and saw for the first time, 'I Love Lucy'. I fell in love with it, and we had a form of cable on out TV that showed old shows and I would make time to watch episodes of I Love Lucy on TVLand. I also too art that year and for one of our drawing projects, I drew the classic image of Desi and Lucy Arnaz. I even read a biography or 2 about them and the show from a book at the library. It became my favorite show, and to this day I still enjoy an episode here and there. 

Overall, I have fond and good memories of Freshman year of high school. There were a lot of things that are seen as nothing new or special now like Facebook, YouTube, ipods that were new and just evolving. Some songs that were big were One Republic and Timbland Apologize; Taylor Swift Tear drops on my guitar; Plain White Tee's Hey there Delilah; Alicia keys No one; Colbie Caillat Bubbly. 

First selfie!

A Study Schedule to Keep Me Inspired

 I was recently thinking about 2 summers ago, and how freeing and open my schedule was. I remember how strongly I felt to pursue something of my own, preferably academic and challenging after leaving my bad job. I turned to study the CBEST, the same test I had started to study for 2 summers prior but never got around it again. The last time I had studied for it, I started with the Math section, not my preferred or strongest subject but I attempted with 'the hardest first' type of mentality. 

I took that test December 2017 in the city before the holiday season was approaching. It was a fun day with my dear sister as we made a trip of it, and she drove me early in the morning to my testing center. Afterwards, we perused old stomping grounds of hers such as SFSU, Stones town Mall, getting a Starbucks and enjoying walking down memory lane on some streets of her college years. It made taking that test all the more enjoyable. 

The summer of 2019 I wanted to start with studying the English section. Since I did not pass the Math section (by 11 points) I felt much more passionate and energetic to study and enjoy the process of hitting the books again especially after a very busy, demanding and exhausting time at my former job. Though I wasn't working, and just needed a break and a summer off to regroup, process, heal and relax, I did have a schedule. I would start the day out with morning Mass, and then either go to the library or Starbucks or another café and start studying and reviewing, practicing for the CBEST. I felt committed to passing this test on the first try and honestly, it felt really good to put my energy and effort into something after such a breaking point those past few months. Being at the library for hours at a time was inspiring and really rejuvenating, and also taking my time at Mass and not having to rush to get work on time. 

I was brought back to these memories as I have gone to the library a few times this past week. I'm grateful for that summer as it really prepared me for next job and season. I brought this same notebook I was using for my English testing practice with me today to write down some recipes. And I came across my notes from 2 summers ago. And I forgot that I was beginning again to study the Math CBEST last August. I needed a goal badly, and something outside to keep me going. The school year was just about starting and I knew it was all going to be remote on zoom. My sweet sister had just moved out to her new place, and there was just a lot of changes and transitions happening all around. It was hard, but having some sort of study schedule and goal was lightening the mood. 

And it wasn't just for my own sake that I needed to study and pursue something but I was also thinking of the future in that having the CBEST passed looked good on a resume and perhaps could enhance my job skills with what I was already doing, as I was feeling desperate and unsure of my job/career future. Those studies of the Math section didn't last long and I knew I couldn't force myself to study it like I once did for English. It just didn't feel right or very life giving, so I let it go. It's interesting looking back at that time, these memories. 

And I think another part of why it came back to me was because as I was browsing the classics section at the library and right near it is the section for testing materials or other tests books. I scanned passed an AP World History test booklet somewhat inspired by it, after being in a high school world history this past school year, I've learned and enjoyed it so much more than when I was in high school. So today at the library, I decided to get this (AP) World History test booklet to look through, and relearn some things just for the fun of it. No intensive studying, cramming, prepping, but just for the sake of learning. That's how summer should be. :)

A Reminder of My Passion

 It came like a whip. A whip of inspiration, that is. A breeze, or rather a gust of reminders that floated in mid air and made me remember where my passion and interest lies. Sometime last week, my Mom mentioned to me about a showing of Rick Steve's touring in the Holy Land. I knew I was interested to watch this segment, and I've enjoyed the programs I've seen of him visiting and touring different countries, learning and exploring various cultures. 

I was very impressed with his tour of Israel/Palestine that is also referred to as the Holy Land. He visited main sites that I have heard of, spoken and tried of food that I have some idea what it is and is most likely in my Middle Eastern or Israeli cookbooks. He even explored the riveting political tensions and divides within the region between the Israeli's and Palestine Arabs. Of course, being the seasoned tourist guide that he is, he didn't claim or stake sides, but talked to an array of people from different parts of both sides- those who were Israeli or Israeli Jews and Palestinians Arabs either Muslims or Christians and had them explain their perspective, their history, their story. It became more and more eye opening to me as well. 

I was glued to the 2 hour program, though only saw close to an hour in a half. I felt I was becoming immersed in this world, this region of rich history from Christianity, but also growing in my little information of Judaism and Orthodox Jews, and relearning some historic things related to Islam. To see the signs in Arabic, Hebrew and English was also cool, and knew that these languages are posted on signs in the regions. It made me think even more about the deep, complex and infuriating situation and turmoil within this region and how much I don't really know or understand. I knew I needed to read up more about it and study and learn the complexities and intricacies behind it.

With all of this, I came to terms that this is my passion; this region of the Holy Land (as well as the broader Middle East), as well as the language of Arabic, the culture and cuisine. It all came back to me, and I was reminded once again. I felt full force to continue with it and to not let it go by the way side or become inherently distracted with other languages to convince myself that Arabic was then and my interest has shifted. 

The next day, I went to the library in attempts to find some books related to or about this conflict within Israel/Palestine and to read up about it. I could have left with a few more books, but I just chose 2 that were related to not be overwhelmed. And then, I sat down at the library desks and studied and reviewed Arabic. My mind felt so focused and realized how much I do know and have learned, even little successes like matching words with their correct meanings or being able to read a few words at a time and understand their meaning. 

Next, I went to Barnes & Noble and thought to look through a whole cookbook of Israeli cooking and food. I have the prior cookbook to this one, but had never fully looked and read through this sequel. So I sat down in the café and took my time looking over each page, recipe, blurb or story, and the pictures within the city was beautiful. I figured to take my time and almost like 'study' the cuisine and culture is always insightful and for me, inspiring. After I was finished with the cookbook, I went back to my Arabic notebook and language book and reviewed some more. It was a great day to get back into this passion and interest of mine with more intentionality, motivation and a renewal of commitment and energy. I want to keep being reminded of this!

The Mission

 There were many beautiful sights and sceneries on the road trip with my brother. One of them being visiting a mission in San Antonio. I love missions, and have seen close to half of the ones in California. I didn't know Texas also had some missions, and my sister confirmed that there are 5. I assumed this mission that we saw was named after St. Anthony, but it was actually called San Jose Mission, named after St. Joseph. It was beautiful, rustic, reviving the old style feel for detailed tours and tourists awe spirited by its beauty. 

I wasn't sure if we were allowed to be inside the church, it looked beautifully inviting and traditional. Instead, I genuflected from outside the door and admired the cross that made me be still and just want to reflect and be. I knew it was the first Friday of the month and only wished I could go to Mass and receive the sacraments and the graces. It had been a long and tiring, special road trip thus far but I knew I was missing being inside a church, praying and just taking my time. 

I was grateful with how smoothly our trip had been and arriving safely to our destinations. I was trying to stay attune to the Mass readings as I brought the Magnificat with me as well as praying the rosary daily either in the car with my brother or to myself as I drove through flat, long and scenic views that expanded the elongating horizon and stretched my imagination of space. Surely visiting this mission was a highlight of the trip, and another devotion to St. Joseph, as well as St. Anthony of Padua in the city of San Antonio. 

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.