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. 

Blooms and Lighter Cloths

 It's Divine Mercy Sunday, and now that I've read the Diary of St. Maria Faustina, the image of it all has become a lot more real to me. I have developed a closer relationship and love for this saint of Divine Mercy. Today also depicts the image of Thomas, or doubting Thomas as he also known since he didn't believe own Jesus' resurrections until he saw Jesus in the upper room and witnessed the deep impressions of his wounds. 

What a beautiful image this feast brings. The iconic painting of the Divine Mercy image of Jesus shows one of healing, welcome, blessing, and movement. Jesus is blessing us with his hand movement slightly raised. It is all dark but he brings the light, with the rays of blood and water from his heart pouring out. The white cloth he wears is radiant, and the cloth he wears 8 days after his resurrection when Thomas meets him is removed for Jesus to show his wounds and Thomas believes.

This second Sunday of Easter reveals the outpouring of God's love, and coming towards us in his deep mercy and compassion to a wailing world. He comes in locked doors to bring about peace and breathes on the disciples for them to receive this new life of the Holy Spirit. 

How much I see things slowly unfolding, as the weather becomes warmer and the blooming of the flowers are vibrant and sends perfumes of beauty. Spring is surely in the air and when I trust in God in little ways, more and more I feel my heart feeling lighter and like these flowers, caressing the perfume of God's yoke, of his presence. 

While on our trip, we saw so many gorgeous flowers strewn about in nature, as well as in a botanical garden. The sense of spring, blooms and new life was evident. I wrote 'spring' in the sand at the beach, I saw a spring street as we were traveling from one side to another of a lovely downtown park. As I was driving on my way to Confession yesterday, I saw so many glorious flowers and colors on the edge of the road near roving green hills. And as I was waiting for the priest to come, I was admiring some of the flowers in the courtyard. He came out and saw me noticing the flowers and said, 'Spring is here'.

Today I was shopping for some lighter clothes for these spring and upcoming summer months, to replenish some things. And just to be in a store again, I admit was also inspiring. The variety of clothes on the racks with lighter material, brighter patterns and floral designs was so nice as I feel like I've been wearing my big winter jacket and boots for months on end. 

Reading former letters from my dear sister's old friend, I remember at the end of her letter she wrote about the 'summer months and wearing lighter cloth!' And as I was looking for lighter cloth in some new and fun clothes, I also came to mind Jesus' cloth from the tomb being away and removing some of his cloth to show the disciples and Thomas his sacred wounds.

I love the Easter season, and I love this time of spring where everything is blooming and things are in anticipation. I love that I was able to rest during my spring break and feel a renewed sense of inspiration, gratitude and perspective after some time. Easter is here, the doors are unlocked, and His cloth springs meaning.

Inspiration and Gratitude

 It was so wonderful to be gone, away from the daily norm, schedule and scenery. I didn't realize the burnout, and stress I was feeling and experiencing until we were on our way to blue waters, mission sites and sunny skies in San Luis Obispo. 

It all brought me back to 2016 with a road trip with my dear sister and brother-in-law when we took our time touring the sites in SLO, the mission during the Christmas season. Something about coming back has made me regain a new sense of inspiration, relaxation, beauty, and gratitude. It's my spring break and having more time with my sweet sister and my parents has been so lovely, so fun. It feels like I've been whisked off somewhere far away, a land of beauty, hope, and a prestigious yet laid back vibe. A freshness in the sea water air brings droplets of all kinds of lightweight thoughts, dreams, and inspirations to my mind. 

The start of the Easter season is flooded with this new hope, faith, and realization of a new perspective, enjoyment, appreciation. It's the most joyous season, beautiful and hopeful season, and these past few getaway days has shown that. A clearer headspace is so important. A renewed sense of appreciation for what's right in front of me, and deep gratitude for time to getaway and rekindle a sense of inspiration that was hazy for a while. 

So, here I am, sitting down at my computer in my room, remembering all that has happened these glorious, quick, beautiful and fun days by the water, the mountain ranges, and the rustic mission views all glowing on the other side of my camera.

Touching the Feet of Jesus

 This holy week has been full of reflections, particularly regarding feet. On Monday, we heard in the Gospel reading about the sinful woman, Judas, Lazaurs and Jesus. It's Jesus' last dinner before his last supper, and he is dining and in the home of his dear friends Martha, Mary, and Lazarus whom he raised from the dead. As it says in the Gospel of John 12:1-11, "Mary took a liter of costly perfumed oil made from genuine aromatic nard and anointed the feet of Jesus and dried them with her hair; the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil." This is a beautiful image, the 'sinful woman' as she is called in this passage is filled with respect for Jesus, but also deep gratitude and love. She is also preparing for Jesus' burial by spilling the oil over his feet, a generous and loving gesture. This oil as I learned recently would have cost a years wages to purchase. 

I was recently reading and reflecting from a spiritual reading for women titled, 'I choose the Sky' by Emily Wilson. I came across this woman she depicted and wrote a reflection on. She is titled the sinful woman. The first words that Emily wrote about this woman in scripture is, "I want to be like her." I was moved and overcome, and reading further I understood why she addressed it that way. She goes further to write, "She shows how passionately we are to seek God in the throes of sin and brokenness , and I want to live like her- in this moment- when I experience sorrow and shame. I want my response to be to run to encounter God right where I know he is."  

Another refection that came to mind this week pertaining to feet is my dear God son and nephew Ignacio. As I have written in other posts, he had a heart condition and passed away 4 days after birth. In various moments I feel close to him, remembering him, and uniting my intentions and prayers to him. Every night before bed, I kiss and touch the footprints of this placard. I feel that it is also a symbol to walk in his footsteps and doing God's will, reminding me that I'm not alone.

Yesterday we observed and took part in  Holy Thursday and the The Last Supper. Going to the service of the Lords Supper last night was beautiful, moving, peaceful, and very reflective and somewhat solemn. Like every year, its the start of the holiest days of the year with the Triduum and preparation for Easter. With covid restrictions this year, only a few people were allowed to have their feet washed by the priest. And upon listening to the priest's reflection, he said how feet washing is a symbol to something greater- a symbol, a reminder of laying down ones life for another. To break away from our selfishness and self-centeredness and think and do for another what Christ has done. It's not about humility as much as it is about charity, generosity, and compassion. 

I remembered vividly in that moment of the washing of the feet, of the time I attended a Caritas retreat and the the ending of the retreat was a Mass and also washing if the feet. It was the first time I participated in that, having my feet washed with others praying around me, and washing others' feet. It was quite a moving, beautiful and emotional experience. 

Another quick image came to mind of a catholic speaker, writer and revert to the faith, Leah Darrow and her husband for their wedding instead of the garter, he washed her feet, as a symbol of laying down his life in the sacrament of their marriage. 

And today is Good Friday. A solemn, quiet, reflective, peaceful day to remember our Lord's cross and suffering, abandonment and misunderstandings as his wounds and sacred heart reveal to the world He is the savior of the world. And the foot of the cross is a powerful image, uniting all our worries, concerns, sins, failings to Jesus' cross. And looking upon there were Mary, Mary the wife of Clophas, Mary Magdalen and John the Apostle keeping Jesus company in his darkest hour.