Aqui in Santa Fe

Note: Please excuse spelling mistakes. I am on borrowed time at an Internet cafe and the English spell-checker doesn´t work!

Upon arriving in Mexico City last Monday, the three of us (Jessica, Jacki and I) lug two huge suitcases apiece along with multiple carry-on bags through customs. Eventually ,we are greeted by Sister Angela, tiny woman with a practical haircut who wears a long gray skirt and practical shoes. If she is overwhelmed by anything about us (our sizes, our stuff, our hair made big by the Texas heat we left) she doesn´t show it, but we have much luggage to take a taxi as she planned. Instead, she calls her nephew Mario to give us a ride to Sant Fe.

We spend about an hour making awkward chitchat (particularly for me because I´m nowhere near fluent in Spanish) and then Mario pulls up in a giant SUV. I finally get my first glance of the city. The buildings are bright but dilapidated, people are everywhere and it´s terrifying to see it from inside a care because traffic laws are more like traffic recommendations in Mexico. Cars weave in and out of right and left lanes, don´t slow for people or other automobiles, and gun it through traffic lights.

About an hour into the trip, it gets dark due to time and a rainstorm, so I can´t see enough to be nervous about the traffic. Instead, the thunder and wet roads scare me, as does the fact that our journey is taking much longer than I anticipated. My eyesight is already blurry due to problems with my contacts (and good-bye tears) which further inhibits my ability to see. I can´t understand the Spanish being spoken around me, so I enter a dreamy state whereby I occasionally chant to the American 70´s pop music being played on the radio.

I came out of it once we make it to Santa Fe, the neighborhood that we are staying in. The reason for the delay was due to the fact that a road was washed out by the rain. After dropping off our things at our house, we go to the Sisters´ home for dinner. Like a good sobrino, Mario spends a lot of time angling the car right beside doors, so that none of us will get wet. We have tortillas with the nuns and then attempt to go home--but the road where the sisters live is so steep and wet that Mario´s SUV can´t make it up the hill. After two attempts, we take an alternate route that adds 20 minutes to what should have been a three-minute ride.

Once we return to our house, I see a man in the window and immediately think ¨Wow, I know there´s crime here but who would have though someone would break in on the first day.¨ I embarrassed but touched to open the door and find that the man is one of several parishioners who have come to tidy up our house, clean up water from the leaky roof, bring food and decorate it with flowers. Exhausted, we all fall asleep quickly after they leave.
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Our house is simple, so the big, elaborate bouquets of roses and carnations seem out of place. Jessica and I decide that the are probably offers to the church or leftover from funerals and weddings. Though much work has been done on the house, it´s missing some stuff, that when I think about it, might make it easier for people to cohabit ate together. For example, my old roommates would always get mad at me for someone getting the bathroom floor soaked after my showers. In this house, there is no shower door or curtain, so the bathroom floor is always wet. I used to be irritated when my brother would leave the toilet seat up--there is no toilet seat here. People sharing laundry facilities are bothered when someone moves their stuff out of the washer to use it their selves--we have no washing machine or dryer.

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So far, our days have been spent paying visits. Sister Angela is a doctor so shes takes us to see patients and she also introduces us to neighbors. Parishioners have stopped by to see us, we get waved to church members when we are out walking and parish staff comes by to fix up our house. The sense of community here is very strong as is the presence of the Church. Yesterday we stopped at the the day care center where Jackie will be working as well as the center that the Missionaries of Charity run, where I will primarily work. Though the day care center is crowded with babies, toddlers and pre-school children, they are well-behaved and it´s very well-organized. There is a lot of joy there.

By contrast, I found the home run by Missionaries of Charity to be beautiful but somewhat depressing. It is a home for severely disabled woman, abandoned handicapped girls, and elderly women. Rooms are full of beds of people who have no one to take care of them. During my visit, Jessica translated for me, but when she had to leave she asked when of the mentally handicapped girls to show me the ropes. It was humbling but touching to have here take my hand and show me around. It was also heart-warming to see other disabled women tend to those who were bed-ridden. I admire the nuns who work there, and hope that there strength will rub off on me.

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I haven´t yet been here for a week and though I miss everyone, I don´t feel homesick yet. It still hasn´t quite sunk in that I will be gone for two years. Instead it feels like I did when I went to Germany and visited my friend Martina for a few weeks--I enjoyed experiencing her lifestyle and tagging along and meeting her friends, felt a little left out because I didn´t speak the language, but knew it would be over soon enough. That´s not the case here and I am hoping the first three months will be the hardest. I am looking forward to milestones to get through them--my birthday, Mexican Independence Day, the Day of the Dead, and Christmas. After that, I am hoping to feel more at home.

Chinatown to Mexico City

While not quite the Silk Road, there is an element of exoticism and danger that pervades when traveling on Chinatown bus lines, services on the East Coast that take you from the Chinatown of one major city to the Chinatown of another major one. Last year, while living in Washington, DC, I frequently used this mode of transportation to visit my then boyfriend who was living in New York City. For about $15, I travelled among college students, Asians and the budget-conscious, chauffeured by driver who barely spoke English. The bus smelled of fried rice, contained overhead TVs that played erotic Japanese movies, and during rest stops I worried about making it back in time before the bus took off. The trip took about 4-8 hours depending on traffic and the level of comfort was often affected by whether or not the heater or air conditioner was working.

At first, I didn't mind the bus because I was having a great time visiting New York. Eventually, I came to find the mode of transportation tiresome and it seemed to exemplify how hard I had things. I asked myself, why couldn't I have a boyfriend who lived in the same city as me, why was it always me going out my way to see him, why couldn't I afford a more comfortable means of transportation, and why couldn't everyone just speak English?

Soon enough, those trips came to an end, but as a reminder I had a skirt that I had bought during a visit to the city. I wore it in one day to the mental health clinic where I was doing volunteer work. On this day, Dorothy (one of students,) was in a particularly social and chatty mood. (Her states of being were variable-sometimes she wore drab colors and gave one word responses to questions, other times she wore tons of makeup, flowery dresses and was full of curiosity.)

"I like your skirt," Dorothy said to me. "Where did you get it from?"

After I told her, her eyes widened in surprise and she said in awe, "I would love to go shopping in New York City."

I was about to say that it really wasn't a big deal, but then I realized how much of a big deal a lot of elements of my life that I took for granted and complained about would be to her. Dorothy didn't have the emotional stability to be in a romantic relationship , the confidence to take a long trip, or the extra funds to put toward unnecessary clothing or travel.

In talking with her, I was able to see how blessed I was in my own life and saw that I should appreciate the experiences that I had, particularly the ones I found daunting. Realizing how much I have makes me feel obligated to practice works of mercy.

As such, I'm going on this mission trip. Most people who have done the type of the volunteer work that I will be doing say that they get more out of the experience then do those they serve. The spirit of mission is to help those in other cultures or situations and to listen and learn from them. (The story of the Visitation is in this vein, as when the Virgin Mary goes to see her cousin Elizabeth, they are both with child and they provide comfort to one another.)

However, thinking that I must go to and will be changed by the less fortunate brings up a new conflict in me--I wonder if I am sanctimonious and arrogant in believing that I can make a difference and also if I am using others to feel better about myself.

I could spend lots of time mulling this or debating it with academics, but I've drawn upon faith to put my mind at ease. I believe that going to Mexico is the right decision for me and both others and myself will benefit from it.

But boy, will I miss the cheap steamed dumplings and veggie-fried rice, available all hours.

Into the Woods

One Body

Lord cloak me in your love
Allow me to act weightlessly beneath it

Let the divine scent of coffee outside
Not reach my nose during Mass

When the celestial beeps of my alarm call me to prayer
Help me respond with grace

If a burning rash of mosquito bites appears on me
May I acknowledge the greatness of all your creatures

When frustrated with directions on the way to retreat
Remind me of the wise men finding their way to you

If there are times when the cloak comes loose,
and the stresses of scents, nature and hunger are allowed to reach me
Let me not shy away, but recognize it as an opportunity to see God


My poetic side came out this morning on retreat. The setting is beautiful mansion in a wooded area where we can watch deer run or sit reflectively by the lake. Today, Sister Bridget touched on some interesting topics, including a response to our concerns that there our so many problems in the world that we won't be able to help. She said that we have to remember that even Jesus was limited to his place and time, and to a certain amount of energy. Though we can't be everywhere, we can live and love as Jesus did.

She gave us the suggestion to reflect on our deepest desires spiritually (what we long and thirst for) and to put this into some creative form. So, I trudged of to the woods and tried to get lost in thought, but felt really tired....and the insects were biting me....I was kind of hungry....the sun was in my face. Which made me think about all the times when I feel like I should be paying attention to someone or trying to establish a connection with a person or God, but instead I am distracted by my physical needs. I realized, however, that as we're made in the image and likeliness of God, the moments when we are human are also moments when we are Godly. That's what I tried to get across in the above poem.

Sister also noted that all of us seemed tired from a week of classes and reminded us to check in with our needs and take time to relax. In that spirit, I'm off to have a glass of wine with the girls before heading to bed.

How I Spent My Feast of the Assumption Day

Over the last few years, I've often found myself in situations where I have looked around and wondered "How exactly did I end up here?"

Last summer, a former assistant to the Pakistani ambassador invited me to their embassy to watch a famous singer perform. I was one of the only white faces among a crowd of diplomats and personnel with ties to the Middle Eastern country and I seemed to be the only person unfamiliar with the sitar. Still, it all felt glamorous and cosmopolitan, and after the show, I crowded into a black SUV along with a group of Pakistanis and we drove to a sheesha cafe. During the ride over, the driver played Pakistani and Indian folk songs, and while the rest of the passangers sang, wailed and danced along, my Singaporean roommate and I kept to ourselves, feeling as if we were what was wrong with the picture.

Three years prior to that, I had just moved to California, where I initally had no friends other than my sister. I went on a few dates with a friend of my landlord's, a guy named Ahmad, who was in his mid-20's of Chinese-Iranian descent. On our third outing, he took me to a family party where we were the only adults under 40. His mother and her sisters drank lots of wine and danced, while I nibbled at Persian food that I hoped was vegetarian. Ahmad's relatives winked at me and said how nice it was to see Ahmad with a girl and I spent most of the evening trying not get pulled into the circle of dancing women.

During my study abroad trip to Australia, after spending a whole night awake at pubs and clubs, one of my friends (Peter) said that he was taking a three-hour drive to a beach town that morning, and could use some company if anyone wanted to come along. Most of the crew bowed out, but my best American friend (Tracie) and I decided we'd love to go for a swim. We chatted excitedly on the way up, and once we reached Bunbury we went to the beach while Peter attended to his business. Tracie and I fell asleep on the beach four hours later-- hungry, dehydrated and suffering from third-degree sunburns. More than wondering how we ended up there, we asked ourselves what we had been thinking (particularly during the next painful week.)

I had another "How did I end up here?" moment this afternoon when I had lunch at the retirement village with the sisters of the Incarnate Word. It actually seemed very natural to attend mass there (for the Feast of the Assumption), congratulate the nuns who were celebrating their anniversaries with the order and then to eat and mingle in the cafeteria with the retired nuns and lay people who live at the community.

Meghan (the assistant program director) complimented me afterwards on branching out beyond the missionary group and approaching strangers with my tray of food and joining them for a meal. (Fish, no surprise.) It was ironic because in high school, I was the girl who was alone at lunch because I didn't have friends to sit with, and I often hung out in the library or stayed late after class studying in order to avoid the embarrassment of being alone.

Reflecting on this made me realize that I have come a long way since childhood in terms of my ability to put myself out there in potentially uncomfortable or awkward situations. I had a "How did I end I up here?" moment when I realized that most of my friends in their late-20s are in offices on Friday afternoons and not socializing at a retirement center along with a few girls just out of college. (Except for Meghan of course, but it's her job.)

When having such moments, it's best not to analyze what brought you into the situation. Sing, dance or smile along, or find someone to chat with, and don't worry about what else you should be doing. This was the message that I got out of a video that Meghan played this morning that documented the experiences of modern-day Catholic missionaries.

"It's best not to think too much on your motivations for being here," said a missionary in Thailand. "Instead, focus on being here and doing God's work."

There are many reasons as to whyI joined this program, ranging from wanting to save the world, to wanting to travel and change my surroundings. I have learned that once I am in Mexico everything may be different than I anticipated--I may not feel utilized or necessary and I could get fed up with poverty, bugs and cold showers.

If that happens, my goal is to forget about how I ended up there and what I expected, and to become absorbed in making the most of the situation. All of my past awkward situations may just have been homework for the test to come.

However, I'm not too worried about being able to weather difficulties. After all ,Sister Magdalena--the little, 82-year old nun who loves Ice Cream Fridays and was sitting across from me today-recently returned from a two-year stint in Peru. If my new friends could handle mission work, then I should be able to too, and I know I'll be getting their prayers of support.

Just Visiting?

Like many young women, I'm a fan of Jane Austen, the 19th century novelist whose heroines encounter social tribulations and exciting scoundrels as they search for love. The characters mostly lead sheltered lives and are concerned with balls, gossip, friendships, and travelling before they end up with proper husbands.

As we paid a call to Visitation House (a home/program that the Sisters have created that enables homeless families to obtain housing and work) yesterday, I felt a bit like the title character of Austen's novel Emma. In this book, Emma- a young, charming, well-to-do women- spends much of her time paying visits to others and some of her time embarking on charitable or other well-intended causes. Like her, I am now in a comfortable place, (I still have the luxuries that other Americans do) I spend free time mingling with others and attending dinners, and yesterday, I went on a visit to learn more about a social cause.

Driving up to to the home reinforced the notion that I had stepped back in time a few centuries. The large, white two-story house has columns and wrap-around porches on both floors. Inside, the house is clean and furnished with wooden furniture, soft couches and a formal dining table.

Sister explained that Visitation House was established around 30 years ago in response to the Church's calling for a preferential option for the poor. (As I understand it, this basically means attending to the neediest.) Visitation House was influenced by the Catholic Worker movement, and began as a place where the homeless could obtain emergency shelter for an indefinite period. The house was always crowded and helped to alleviate the burdens of those in bad situations. However, staff members noticed that many people would seemingly get off their feet and leave, only to return again in a few years. The face of homelessness began to change as well as many young (oftentimes abused) mothers sought shelter, while previously the majority of homeless were men with drug, social and/or mental problems.

Visitation House evolved into a program whereby young woman and their children could receive temporary shelter for a few months and then move into an apartment complex next door for two years. During that time they set reasonable goals to be educated (obtaining a GED, associates degree, or another form of training) and learn other financial, coping and life skills. There is a tutoring program for the women as well as well as for their children.

I was very impressed by the sanctuary that has been set up for homeless as well as the tangible results of the program. (Grown children whose mothers benefited from the program have shown up at the door of Visitation House with advanced degrees of their own.) It is one of the many different ways in which I've learned about people helping others. While I admire these workers, I have also had my eyes opened to all of the people in need. I hope to be someone who is consistent in addressing the neediest.


This concern is another way in which I felt like Emma. In the novel, she is complimented on her efforts to do good works, but she brushes it off saying that she needs to do such things now- while the desire is there -because in a few years she my not feel compelled to do anything. I worry that after my mission experience, I'll get boggled down in everyday life and forget about helping others.

Complicating my little head is that upon returning from Visitation House I read a few articles on Catholic social teaching (we'll have a lesson next week) and I learned that committing acts of charity are not enough to address the problems of those in need. It may be a band-aid, but one really must work to change the social structures that exist that keep people down. (For example donating $100 to the sick might help someone in the short-term but questioning why the sick don't have access/can't afford health care is more beneficial in the long run.)

Fostering long-term stability was a goal of Visitation House when they changed their program from a shelter to a program that enables long-term education. At first, hearing about the change bothered me a little because while the program as it exists now is wonderful ,an emergency shelter open for anyone at anytime is also amazing and vital. However, I can see how the shift was compatible with social teaching. (As part of their ministry, the sisters address those who need emergency help by providing information a multitude of resources at all hours.)

While it may be easy for me to make these next few years simply a break from the routine, I am hoping that they will be a stepping stone that forces me to change my lifestyle and way of thinking. Like an Austen heroine, concerns over finding love may have been a priority over the last few years, and I could use distract myself with acts of charity in Mission before embarking on my 'real life' again. However, I am living in a different time period than Austen and have the opportunity and obligation to take on weightier concerns than simply paying visits to those in need.

Missions, Mass, Music

When I saw Missions Game on our orientation itinerary for Saturday night, I was a little nervous because I thought we missionaries would be pitted against each other in bizarre competitions. I imagined being quizzed on Bible verses, races back from the river carrying buckets of water, and an intense arroz con frijoles cook-off.

As it turns out, the Missions Game entailed sitting in the sun, drinking beer, eating peanuts and watching the San Antonio Missions play the Arkansas Travelers. Meghan is a huge fan of baseball, so she loaded us into the van and took us to the stadium to watch a minor league game.

First thing we did was have our picture taken with the giant H & B Grocery Bag Mascot.



Here are Courtney and I in the stands:



These are some shots of the game:



This may have been our last time seeing a live baseball game for a while, and was nice American activity. However, it had a Texas flair to it as there was a giant Jalapeno mascot running around and the concession stand sold "pickle pops"--frozen pickle juice. Unfortunately the Missions lost 2-4, but we enjoyed fireworks at the end.

Sunday may be the Lord's Day, but it felt rather ungodly this morning as I woke up at 6:30 to go to San Fernando Cathedral. We attended a special mass for missionaries and the spirited, bilingual service helped to awaken me. In the gospel, Peter walked on water toward Jesus, but began to sink and feel frightened until Jesus caught him. It was appropriate for missionaries, as we may be walking on unfamiliar territory, but can rely on Jesus's support. Here are some shots from the cathedral:



After Mass was another first--tacos for breakfast in the Cathedral Courtyard. Then, Sister Martha took us on a tour in which we explored artwork in the city. Sister Martha has long reddish hair, wore a bright, flowing purple dress and a simple wooden cross. She reminded me of a 60's flowers-child and she gave a post-modern, feminist, peace-loving tour of the city. We visited the Cathedral's museum to see its history and went to a huge Mexican restaurant decorated with colorful murals. Inside of Charity Hospital, we saw pictures depicting its history. Outside the hospital, we went to a park where those interested in drawing attention to social justice issues often gather and we viewed this mural:



We ended the day with a visit to a colorful Mexican-style marketplace where a band played outdoors, children drank slushy fruit drinks, and vendors sold dresses, sculptures, hats and all kinds of other glittery things.





Finally, we returned back to MACC to make Sunday a much needed day or rest.

Friday Night Spirits

I had had few experiences with nuns before beginning this trip, and I used to think that they spend of their time in chapels-occasionally making it out to attend Mass and teach school- and that they wear dark robes. I have since learned that those black habits and cloaks became optional after Vatican II, that only cloistered nuns spend most of their time in prayer, and that they all lead diverse, dynamic lives. This week, I met a Bohemian sister who lives at a retreat center, serves as a spiritual director, teachers art and Tao Chi, and spends her spare time writing. Another was a clinical psychologist dressed in a practical suit who was able to make insights as to how a group of young women she had just met would get along as roommates. There was also a down-to-earth sister who has set up a global program to empower and raise funds for underprivileged women.

I was able to spend even more time bonding with the Sisters when we visited the convent this tnight to have dinner with our spiritual companions. Our spiritual companions will pray for and listen to us and be with us in spirit while we are in mission. We all got to know each other by relaxing on comfy couches and chairs, munching on macaroni salad and sandwiches and chitchatting about creative cakes, snow in Texas, growing up in a funeral home and struggling to learn Spanish.

Jane remarked that the event reminded her of a sorority rush in college. I never rushed, but this past week has reminded me of my first few weeks of college. (I had five roommates freshman year.) Once again, I have been placed together with a group of strange young women and I am absorbing a new environment with them.

However, it's completely different from college in that what's missing is the presence of booze, boys, cigarette breaks, designer clothes, and looming deadlines. We've been stripped of crutches and distractions preventing us from knowing each other, ourselves and God. It's been a very relaxing and healthy period.

In a spirituality lecture today, I learned that vices common in college are actually a form of bad spirituality. I was confused by this because I thought all spirituality was good. In actuality, spirituality is a response to a longing within ourselves to know God. We can have habits that can be manifested healthily in order to know Him, or unhealthily in order to cover up that longing.

Healthy spirituality is developed through God and people. I found it interesting to learn that doing religious acts like prayer and going to church will not make us closer to God because we already close to Him. Instead we need to be aware of His presence and His love. As humans, we are full of divine energy and accepting this leads to healthy spirituality.

Admittedly, this topic is confusing to me and I don't fully understand it. If I were in college writing a paper on it, I would need to take a break and have a snack/grab a drink/talk to the guy across the hall and then delve into it more. However, I was able to find peace tonight simply by sitting with a groups of nuns and sipping lemonade with them, and I know that time will bring all the insights I need.

Girls' Night Out

Remember the Alamo? I didn't. I learned about the San Antonio fortress/mission in elementary school, but neither me or my fellow missionaries could recall many details about the events that had taken place there. As we were getting a little cabin fever from being inside the gated MAC Center, we decided it was time to get some history by taking a trip to the city. The nine of us girls piled into a big, white unmarked van, driven by our small, blond assistant program director and we strolled into the streets of Texas---after flying through the HOV lane, circling for parking and cramming the van into a tiny space.

Here's the Alamo:




It's located right in the midst of downtown and not out in the desert as I anticipated. The story goes that in 1835, about 200 Texans fought here against 6,000 Mexicans during the Texas Revolution. Davey Crockett was one of the Texas soldiers. Texas lost brutally, but there heroism was not forgotten and "Remember the Alamo" became a battle cry that eventually helped Texas to win the war.

We were hungry after all that education, so we went to eat at an Italian restaurant on the Riverwalk. Here I am with Meghan (our director), Jessica, Mary, Clare, and Nicole.



The last trio of girls of are from Ireland. Mary and Clare will be staying in San Antonio while Nicole is off to Guatemala. I know Iam in for a culture shock when I go to Mexico, but imagine the surprise that Mary must have felt, when she, a women from Ireland in her mid-20s', was denied a drink. Her driver's license is paper and the restaurant wouldn't accept it. Still it was great food, with portions big enough to feed the Texas army.

Here we are on the stairs of the Riverwalk, along with a photo the river. I'm in front with the Irish girls behind me. Then there's Jessica (who'll be my roomie in Mexico) and then Courtney who's going to Peru. Next there's Jackie who is also on her way to Mexico followed by Jane and Julie who will be in a Peru.



After a big night out, we returned to MACC and took a dip in the seminarian's pool. As the seminarians are mostly on retreat, we were spared the potential awkwardness of a run-in with them. The bats that had been skimming the water the other night were nowhere in sight, so it was a relaxing end to the day.

It's All In the Numbers

If you are reading this blog entry, be glad I managed to post it because I have a passion toward laziness. Also, I tend to confuse easily, so it's surprising that I could even remember the password to my blogger account in order to post it.

Today I received some insight into my personality through the use of an Enneagram personality system. The origin of the Enneagram as a personality tool is uncertain, but it is thought to have been developed thousands of years ago by the Sufi tribe. Basically, this system classifies people into nine different types of personalities which are points on an enneagram (a nine-sided polygram). Each category has positive and negative traits, and when a person is at his, best he will project the positive attributes of his number. Sometimes a person can have "wings" or secondary attributes, but when a person is his true self or stripped of his crutches and cloaks, he will project only the traits of his primary number. These are the nine traits:

1. Reformer/Perfectionist--Does everything right

2. Helper/Giver--Attains to the needs of others

3. Performer/Status Seeker--Needs to achieve

4. Artist/Romantic--Must be special and unique

5. Thinker--Wants to understand everything

6. Skeptic/Loyal Friend--Wants security and approval

7. Enthusiast/Epicure--Seeks adventure and happiness

8. Leader--Values power and strength

9. Peacemaker--Wants union with others

Each number directly connects to two other numbers. To move in a positive direction, a person will pick up the healthy traits of one connecting number, but can also go in a negative direction and pick up the unhealthy traits of another number.

Enneagram:



Listening to this in class, it all seemed a bit hokey. But, I went along with it because I am pretty open-minded. That's one of the good traits that others have pointed out within me, along with patience and friendliness. However, I cringe when people say that I withhold or don't formulate opinions and that I am slow to respond because I know this to be true of myself.

However, when we came to number Nine, I became a believer a Enneagrams because I saw my personality. Nines seek union with others, want peace, and avoid conflict with others. At their best, nines are nice, good-natured and empathic. Typically, they can be too easygoing and are unresponsive. At their worst, they are repressed, withdrawn and don't take action.

This relates to mission life in that if we can learn more about our personality and the personalities of others around us, we won't begrudge negative traits and can learn to counteract weaknesses. Personally, I think that following the Enneagram led me here.

Eight months ago, I felt stagnant in many areas; career, relationships and spiritual growth. I was showing the tendencies of a nine at its inefficient worst and wasn't facing my unhappiness about my situation. In order to better myself, I took on the positive traits of three (a performer). Threes challenge themselves, focus on self-improvement and accomplishment and do things that get attention.

I have learned that once I go to Mexico and into Mission life it can be positive to be naturally laid-back Nine because life is more slow-paced. I'll need to take time to talk and learn from others instead of instantly trying to help. Still, I may have to take on the traits of Three in order to make an impact and avoid withdrawing from others. For the next few years, I may bounce around between numbers, but at my core, I am a child of God and everything will get figured out.

Love and Chocolate

"I'm just a regular person," says Ray the MAC Center cook while we stand in the kitchen after lunch. Ray is over 6 feet tall, stocky, and deeply tanned as he just returned from a vacation in Italy. He his in his late 20's and wears a backwards basketball cap along with baggy, colorful, pajama-like pants and a long apron. I am attempting to make small talk with him and have just asked if he lives on the property.

"I'm not like a priest or seminarian or anything. I'm just a normal guy. I've got my own place," he says.

Though he may not live on the grounds, I can tell he is a valued member of the MACCC community. He often sits and chats with the priests and seminarians who live across the street and eat their meals at the center. Staff members go out of their way to thank him for food and rave about their favorite dishes. He jokes and banters with others who work in the kitchen.

He has also endeared himself to the the nine of us missionaries. The other night, he showed us where to find a stash of chocolate-chip cookies offered us cereal and chips anytime the need should arrive. At one lunch, Julie, a vegetarian, asked him if there were any meat products in the rice and beans on the buffet. Since then he has gone out of his way to prepare big meals just for her.

What really won us over now serves as one of our biggest temptations. At one dinner, the girls here from Ireland were craving chocolate, so after eating they asked Ray where they might find a sweets shop. He told them not to go anywhere and instead gave them a massive bag of M & Ms that we are now struggling to finish or resist, depending on who you ask.

His kindness is especially meaningful as we prepare for mission. In one class, Sister Carol Ann told us that once we reach our destinations, we are going to encounter trash, poverty, pollution and crowds. In order to survive, we most become engaged with the people around us and find beauty within them.

Ray has had no reason to go out of his way for us, even though all the missionaries are friendly. However, he is making us feel part of the community at which we are temporarily residing and he is helping us all feel better about being far away from home.

Sister Carol Ann's advice on people came in the contest of a lesson on spirituality. It's one I have heard before but often forget; we are loved by God simply because we exist. God will never turn away from us and his love is not something we earn or deserve.

Jesus loved us unconditionally and we learned that though he may be gone, we can act as his hands and feet and do good works. Like Ray, we may just be regular people doing everyday tasks, but we can bring comfort and love to others.

My Future Plans...

As a freshman at George Washington U., I woke up early in the morning to work on Capitol Hill and sat in while national policy was being debated. A year after graduation, I found myself staying up until early in the morning while staff members at the bar where at I worked discussed whether it's best to use gin or vodka in martinis. (Vodka won, with a twist.)

I've always struggled to figure out what to do career wise. This uncertainty has given me an eclectic resume (congressional intern, cocktail waitress, reporter, interactive analyst) and allowed me to write colorful cover letters for job applications. Invariably, I have found myself at interviews trying to smile and come up with clever answers, all the while looking around a cramped office thinking "Do I really want to sit here day after day?"

I've had dreams of avoiding these trappings by becoming a famous actress or big shot politician. However, the people I truly admire are those who are out there quietly serving the needy and God, people we rarely here about. The altruistic part of me had sometimes contemplated a similar path, but I brushed the desire aside thinking it would be to hard to leave the people and material comforts in my life behind. At the same time, I've had a desire to be like the people who drop everything to travel the world and immerse themselves in new cultures. I've never been brave enough (or perhaps I'm too American) to do this.

However, during my last round of job interviews I felt a calling that has put me on a path whereby I'll have a chance to live like those I look up to. For the next two years, I'll be living in Mexico City, Mexico as a lay missionary with the Incarnate Word Missionaries, a group sponsored by Catholic nuns. Right now, I am at a three-week orientation attending classes covering a range of topics including the history of the Sisters of the Incarnate Word, cross- cultural issues, missiology and Catholic social teaching. I am in staying at the Mexican American Cultural Center (MACC) along with eight other women who will be going to various parts of the world. I feel blessed by this opportunity and will keep you all updated on my journey. Upon sharing my plans with others, there have been lost of questions, so I'll take this time to answer the most common one regarding my future plans; though I am in awe of and have an incredible amount of respect for those who have taken religious vows, I do not intend on becoming a nun.