Francis in Philly! A Papal Pilgrimage

This was the third pilgrimage I've been on. Mexico City, Quebec, and now Philadelphia. Wow. I am slowly becoming a pilgrimage addict. I wish I could do this full-time!! It is the best way to feel fully connected with my faith and humanity. Prayer, Mass, fellowship, service, travel...it doesn't get much better than that!

I can't even begin to describe what the city was like during my weekend... I mean, for once, finally, the secular world seemed to be open to and accepting of Catholicism. Everyone had smiles on their faces and didn't mind meeting new people and asking where their neighbor in line was from. City employees, be they police officers, public transit workers, crossing guards, National Guard officers, everyone seemed excited and truly welcoming. They seemed respectful, helpful, and even loving. As one of the UVM students in our group said, it felt like we had entered some strange utopia. And that is exactly what it was like. My utopia would be a world where I can openly and publicly be Catholic without worrying about being chastised in any way. My utopia is where I can offer someone a rosary and they will take it, instead of rejecting it with a nasty comment. It is a beautiful world when people are neighborly, loving, friendly, welcoming, helpful, smiling, and treat everyone around them as their brother or sister in Christ.

We served homeless men and women on the streets of Philadelphia over two days, organized by a group from Atlanta called Love and Serve. It was so heartbreaking to see just how many people are living like this, miserable and without shelter. It's inhumane. No one deserves that. They all have stories to tell. They are human beings of varying generations but of the same value that all human lives hold. God loves them all. I was happy to be part of a group passing out shoes, clothing, food, toiletries, and other basic necessities. But it struck me how difficult it was to approach them. I don't feel I did very much. I was awkward and uncomfortable. I didn't want them to think that I thought I was somehow better than them. I just want people to know that I want to be their friend. Nevertheless, I was also surprised to see how the people we served opened up to us and spoke honestly. Some were shy and uncomfortable, but others just seemed eager to talk and share their stories and their lives with us. It was beautiful. But I personally want to be better at this kind of outreach. I want to touch people's lives and truly serve in a meaningful way.

On Friday morning, we headed to the city (via trolley, walking, subway, more walking, and I think another subway), where we joined other volunteers from different parishes at St. Andrew's Lithuanian Church (which actually does hold Masses in Lithuanian!) for Mass and the initial orientation/introduction to the service weekend. And Christopher West was there! He gave us a very moving talk about making our hearts more in line with God's law, rather than trying to change the laws in order to fit our personal will. He said that we are free from the law (i.e. "rules") when we have no desire to break it. I thought that was quite brilliant.

Our mission for the day was to consecrate the area of the Papal visit by walking around it and praying, giving out rosaries, and collecting prayer requests from random strangers we stopped to chat with. The first person my small group met was Marvin, a disabled veteran in his sixties who was entirely open, friendly, and positive-minded. He admitted he had made many mistakes in his life and that it is a blessing for him to still be alive, even though he has many needs and ailments. It was such a lovely feeling to have all of us surrounding this man on a busy main street in Philadelphia, where the energy and anticipation of Pope Francis' arrival could easily be seen and felt.

Later in the afternoon, after saying a Divine Mercy Chaplet and grabbing some coffee from Dunkin' Donuts (we had been up since around 5:30 a.m.!) we visited the actual body of Saint Maria Goretti at Saint John the Evangelist Church. It's part of the Pilgrimage of Mercy Tour of the Major Relics of St. Maria Goretti. Her story is amazing and I love how she is being honored. (Click on my hyperlinks to read more.) There was a huge line outside the church so we had to wait a while to get in, but it was totally worth it. In the meantime, street vendors were selling T-shirts, buttons, Vatican City flags, and all sorts of Papal paraphernalia. And that was going on the entire weekend. I have never seen so much Catholic-ness in one place before. It was quite a sight! But I loved it. And I still cherish having experienced that.

We knew Saturday was going to be a long day because of our mission service followed by an evening of the Festival of Families with the pope, so Father Jon let us sleep in so we could have our own private Mass at the hotel, instead of traveling into the city for Mass with the large group at the Lithuanian parish. So all 24 of us packed into Father's hotel room (no joke!) and created a major fire hazard not only with our bodies but also by placing our altar with lit candles against the door. But you gotta love these little details... I mean, you only experience this stuff while on pilgrimage! The Mass was beautiful because it was organic and original. For the Prayers of the Faithful, Father let us spontaneously offer any intentions we had. It felt very sincere.

Our mission for the day was to bring a TON of donated goods to the homeless and minister to them at the same time. We spent some time at the Lithuanian church organizing the donations, then we each grabbed what we could and started the trek. I had my personal backpack on my back, a drawstring pack full of rosaries on my front, and a huge plastic garbage bag full of large men's shoes. It was a challenge carrying all of that, but I later realized how worthwhile it was, too. We found this one street in particular that was just full of homeless people. It broke my heart. I was glad to be able to use my Spanish, though, when we met a man from Honduras. As our group dispersed among the homeless men and women along the street and adjacent alleyway, our yellow T-shirts illuminated the place. In addition to basic necessities, we handed out rosaries and prayer cards, listened to these people's stories, and offered to pray with them. I wish something like this could be a regular occurrence.

One man had a deformed leg but was especially friendly. When we asked what had happened, he said it had been crushed in a compactor. The man has had 21 surgeries and still needs at least two more on other parts of his body. "When was that?" I asked of his accident. "Oh...back in '92." He said that in his initial surgeries the doctors took muscle from his abdomen and put it on his leg. When that didn't work, they took muscle from higher up on his chest. How this man must suffer! I thought. He can walk, but just imagine having that kind of physical pain and needing all those surgeries on top of being homeless.

Saturday evening was the Festival of Families. Mark Wahlberg was the host for the evening. Before the Pope came on stage, there were lots of performances by musicians and even standup comedy by Jim Gaffigan. When darkness fell, we found our place to sit and waited for the Pope to come on stage. His speech was beautiful, of course - all about the family and how love conquers all, basically. So many more amazing musical acts followed, Aretha Franklin, Andrea Bocelli, and Juanes!!!!! (I absolutely freaked out when Juanes was announced.) It was almost too much to take in. We stayed for most of the music after Pope Francis left the stage (he said, "See you at Mass tomorrow," and then turned around and asked someone what time Mass was, to which everyone cracked up). As we headed back to find the subway, the dome of the cathedral was illuminated with some projected images, and then we heard a loud noise. "Fireworks!" someone said. Sure enough, I turned around and there was a huge finale round of exploding fireworks in the sky, coming from where the Pope had just spoken. I was blown away.

Sunday was truly a Sabbath - no work, just all our focus went to the Papal Mass. We did not end up able to go back to the area where the Mass would actually be said because of the insane lines. Instead, we found a place on the street where we could comfortably watch it on screen (a Jumbotron, I learned they are called). Unfortunately, on this last day of our trip, there were some people trying to oppose the Pope and the whole Church, I'm sure. They protested with signs and speeches, but thankfully I was able to walk right by and didn't see any violence. But still, I was annoyed that this had to happen on Sunday, and especially on the day of the long-awaited Papal Mass. It felt extremely disrespectful. But, as I have personally had to learn on several occasions, people who stand in opposition to the Church are most often not interested in respecting it.

Since we couldn't receive Communion through a Jumbotron, we had to leave our spot right before Communion to receive it back at the Lithuanian church, where a private Mass was being said for us, basically. We left immediately after that Mass to go back to the Papal one and made it back just in time for the final blessing. I've been to two Masses on the same Sunday before, but I think this was the first time I could say I attended two Masses in the span of two hours.

There are so many more details I could include, but I wanted to write this as a basic record of my special weekend for Francis in Philly, so I can look back on it with love and be able to share some of my experience with you as well.

Por fin, my first equestrian encounter!

I am a firm believer in staying authentic and true to myself. I know without a doubt that what I value as an expat is establishing myself in this community and coming to know the city that I'm living in. I want to be active and involved. I want to be integrated and appreciated, at least by a few. But I also want to be a wide-eyed child and just explore. There is so much here that I don't get to discover on an average week because I'm busy with school and other activities.

I am thrilled, pleased, relieved, and blessed. Today I fulfilled one of my lifelong dreams and longtime bucket list items: horseback riding! I know -- for those of you who know me, it's strange that this was my first time, since I'm from Vermont. But this experience is even more epic because I did it in Madrid, Spain! I'm proud of myself for persevering, because I almost didn't make it out there at all. I'm going to backtrack a little and give you the whole picture.

I was out late last night with some of my new madrileño friends. It was really nice to be out with locals and not be near any fellow Americans - in other words, truly on my own in a foreign city. I felt wonderfully and completely immersed. The beauty of it is that it was all natural and of my own doing - of my own initiatives since being in Spain. First I went to dinner with a friend I made at a language exchange meetup a week prior; later we went to a bar to catch up with a mutual friend and a German girl who's a student in Spain (and has practically flawless Spanish). During dinner, Alex and I laughed so much. It was extemely healing for me, despite the fact that I felt like a 5-year-old because I kept forgetting things and making mistakes with my Spanish. But I don't normally laugh that much with Spaniards, so it was totally worth the insecurity and frustration I have toward myself (I still struggle with the process of language learning...I just want to be 100% fluent already!). But this guy is pretty chill and smiles a lot, which is rare and refreshing around here. It was SO wonderful to be out of the classroom, completely away from the academic environment, to learn naturally and calmly through developing a friendship with a native speaker. These are the moments I cherish because this is what I have always dreamed of and expected from myself when I used to fantasize about living abroad; it wasn't necessarily about the number of places I was going to see, but rather the people I was going to meet and the depth and quality of my relationships with them. There's nothing like international friendships; we all have so much to share with, learn from, and teach one another.

Most of my classmates are gone taveling this weekend. I felt a certain excitement about having Madrid to myself (or feeling that way). Sometimes I just need that kind of space. I was originally going to be away as well, but only ended up stressing myself out a LOT over the last couple of weeks when I was trying to make travel plans. I felt a lot of anxiety and pressure...but what for? Nothing was working out as I tried making plans. I kept changing my mind and still felt unsure about the whole thing. I was creating way too much unnecessary anxiety for myself. At first I felt like I really needed to go somewhere far and exotic, because everyone else was. But then I realized that I didn't have any true desire of my own to do so. I mean, I'm an adult and I'm here in this Master's program pursuing my own goals, no one else's. I'm not paying thousands of dollars to just do what's popular. No, that's absolutely absurd. I want to be my own person and follow my own intuition. There's really nothing wrong with staying local on a long weekend. I can have just as many amazing experiences here in Madrid (or nearby) as the other people traveling in other parts of Spain or even in Paris. And it doesn't take much for me to prove it. The long weekend is half over and I've already accomplished what I feel are some amazing tasks.

One of the first things I needed from this weekend was to relax. I needed a vacation from all the emotions and tension I've built up inside over the last several weeks. I just wanted to chill out and breathe. I need tranquility. And the past couple of days have given me that. The silence of solitude can be lovely.

So before, when I was frantically trying to get a plan together for this weekend, one of my goals was to go to the country and ride a horse. I adore animals and have always, always dreamed of riding a horse. When I gave up altogether on reserving a trip, I thought I would have to postpone the horseback riding idea. Then, I was poking around on Meetup.com (super obsessed with this site), and God took care of me in an instant. There, before my eyes, was the page for a coincidentally brand-new horseback riding group in Madrid! I couldn't believe it. I hadn't expected to find anything right here in the city. I thought for sure I'd have to travel to another town to fulfill this dream. So anyway, of course I signed myself right up for what was plainly God's answer to my tumultuous ride of internal turmoil over the past few weeks. (You have no idea what the stress of planning for this weekend had been doing to me...I felt all sorts of shame and depression about not being able to get my act together and make something happen.)

During the week I didn't think much about planning for the riding lesson because the Meetup page said it was in Madrid. I assumed I'd just get on a metro and find the place fairly easily. But after I got home last night from my mixing with the locals, at about 02:00, I decided I should probably take a glance at the map to see where I needed to be in fewer than 10 hours. And joder, it looked as though it wasn't going to be feasible getting to the riding center by public transit alone. Great, I thought. JUST GREAT. Once again, my plans for the weekend had been crushed. And I felt kind of screwed because it was already so late and this woman who had organized the meetup was expecting me to be there. But I didn't have her phone number or anything...just the messaging page on the Meetup site. So I wrote her a message after 03:00 asking how I could get there without a car and hoped she would see it before leaving to meet me at the riding center.

Needless to say, since I went to sleep so late (or early, rather), I was still exhausted when my alarm sounded. I stayed in bed for a long time, contemplating whether there was any point in making an effort to go out today. I really doubted I could figure out how to get to this place. My exhaustion also made me feel depressed. I honestly felt like I may as well just sleep the entire day away. But then I thought about what it would mean to give up the horseback riding. Even though it certainly wasn't the only day I could ever possibly hope to do it, what would be the point in wasting a perfectly good opportunity? Also, I felt guilty at the thought of just not showing up and letting this woman, Barbara, down. Since she had just recently created the group on Meetup, I was the only person who had joined it and RSVP'd, so far. So I felt pretty much obligated to follow through.

By God's grace, I pulled myself out of bed. I checked my messages and found that Barbara had replied, telling me where the nearest train station was and that I could walk from there to the riding place. I looked at the clock and the map. There wouldn't be time to take a metro to the train and then walk from the train. As I threw on clothes and gobbled down some yogurt, feeling shitty for taking so long to get out of bed and for being in Madrid without any real plans (etc., etc. goes my silly brain), I decided to just take a cab. Fortunately (and divinely so, I'd say), there was a cab available sitting on the side of the main road by my street. Unfortunately, the driver had no idea where this place was, and we had quite some trouble finding it.

I felt awful when we started going in circles and then when the taxista had to turn off the meter because of it. It seems like this shit always happens to me. WHY ME?! I always want to shout out to the world. I'm always having a hard time with stupid, simple things. But this time I was legitimately annoyed because I didn't want to arrive late, miss the class, and have paid 30 euros in taxi fare for nothing (and then have to figure out how to get home after the taxi was already gone). BUT... As I got out of the cab, I saw a woman walking toward me. I looked at her and she looked at me. I think I made it a bit awkward because I didn't say anything. "Alissa?" she finally said. "¡Sí!" I replied. And that was that. I had finally freaking made it. The world hadn't ended.

Barbara was really sweet, and patient with my low confidence and awkward Spanish. She told me that the instructor was actually still teaching a class, so it was perfectly fine that I was a few minutes late. "He's Cuban," she said (in Spanish), "so he's on island time and very laid-back." Did she say CUBAN?! I thought. Holy shit, now I'm REALLY glad I got myself out of bed this morning and made it here!

It turned out that not only is Edgar from Cuba, but he's also very easy on the eyes! You've got to be kidding me, I thought. This day was just getting better and better! But then I quickly saw that he's a smoker. Thumbs-down in that department.

Anywho...the class was perfect. Barbara and I were Edgar's only students at that time, so it was nice and relaxed. The horses were sweet and calm. I was as gleeful as a child when I looked into the eyes of my horse that Edgar gave me. I really felt childlike in my soul when I took hold of the reins and Barbara and I began walking our horses over to where we would be riding. I couldn't believe this was finally happening. My only exposure to horses has been at the Champlain Valley Fair and Addison County Field Days once a year. Seriously, I think that's about it. I just love horses! I admire their anatomy, their beauty, and their strength. I used to diligently draw them as a child. These gorgeous animals have served humans for so long. What a wonderful gift to the world!

I felt real fear when it was time to mount. The horse's back looked very high up, as did the stirrups. I honestly did not believe I had the upper body strength to boost myself up with enough momentum. I thought I would almost certainly fall and either hurt my body or my pride in an instant. But Edgar thankfully helped me up, and it really wasn't so bad! Phew. First step down.

In my first moments in the saddle, sitting up high with no back support and not yet holding onto the reins (Edgar was, from his standing position on the ground), I felt insecure. I again felt that I would fall. But this feeling only lasted moments; after I had the reins to myself, I felt much better.

During the whole hour-long class we just walked the horses in small circles in a little sand-covered enclosure. We learned how to stop, start, and steer the horses. It was all very basic, but I loved every moment.

This one came out the best. Sorry the others are so dark!

Edgar and Barbara were also very pleasant to talk to. And guess what? I asked Edgar where exactly in Cuba he's from, and he said Matanzas. That's the same town where my maternal grandfather was raised!!! I love making these connections. The more, the better. Even though I'm in Spain for now, my goal has always been, and always will be, Cuba. My heart is there, even though I've never physically been, and even though my Cuban blood comes from my mother's side only. One day I will make to the island, and I will conduct the necessary research to learn about my grandparents and their family histories. Their stories must be known and must be told.

I was a bit sad when it was time to dismount and say goodbye to the horses. (I was also nervous to dismount! But Edgar helped me again.) At the same time, I now know that I'm capable of doing this, and I know that I definitely want to repetirlo.

Another blessing God provided me at the end of the day was that Barbara offered to drive me to the nearest metro station! Since I had arrived in a taxi, and definitely wasn't going to go back in one as well, I was a little anxious about figuring out how to get myself to a train station. I didn't know the area well, but I knew it would be a bit of a hike on foot. So I was extremely pleased that not only did I have a wonderful riding lesson, but I also was given the gift of peace about returning safely to the city. I mean, there's really no other way to see it; Barbara's kindness was truly a gift. Looking back on the stress of just getting to the place at the beginning of the day, I felt so relieved that the whole thing turned out so well. God just took care of me completely! Barbara even said that if I come back in the future, she would be willing to pick me up at the station and bring me to the riding center with her. How lovely!

A random tidbit to this tale: Part of my fantasy about riding horses came from the movie Titanic. I kid you not! You know why? Because I've always admired the way Rose continued to live her life after Jack died. I love the scene where she passes in her sleep and the camera moves to the pictures at her bedside, showing all the things she's done despite the tragedy she once knew. I love the picture of Rose on a horse. Something about that image is so signficant to me... It's like, I've had some of the same dreams as her. I know what it's like to be close to death, to even want it, and to come back from that with possibly more life than I ever had before. I have so many ambitions, dreams, hopes, and goals. I may never achieve them all, but if I can accomplish at least some of them, I will feel satisfied. I will feel invigorated, strengthened, and alive. When I engage in activities I have yearned for over a long period of time, I feel independent and capable. I feel like I've conquered the world of my fears and iniquities.

So I hope this entry may have inspired something in you, if you're reading this. I hope you get on that horse you've always wanted to get on, and pull yourself up even when you think you might fall. You'll never gallop if you don't get up and walk...

Beautiful Day for Ellie

Yesterday was beautiful, Ellie.  It's funny that the day before this huge snow storm was a wonderfully sunny and peaceful-looking day, but also the day of your funeral.  I wish it could have started that way (bright and beautiful).

My drive early in the morning was a bit scary for me, because it was so dark and no matter what I did with my windshield wipers or defroster, I felt like I could not see well enough to stay safe.  The roads were unexpectedly slushy in the southern parts of Vermont, completely different from the roads near my house.  I experienced a few very uncomfortable minutes (that felt like an hour) when I was trying to pass a HUGE tractor/trailer at the wrong time.  The road began to curve, and it kept curving.  I felt too close to the giant vehicle to safely pass.  I was in the left lane, right next to it, but there were cars directly behind me and the tractor/trailer.  It was so dark and I was afraid of going off the road if I didn't steer precisely enough.  Headlights from traffic in the opposite direction flashed in my face and the slush of the highway sprayed in my windshield.  I was going too slow, especially for being in the left lane and on the Interstate, and I was stuck in this clump of traffic that I had now created.  I knew all the other drivers must be furious with me.  I was probably the only one scared, the only one not confident enough to just speed up a little and pass the tractor/trailer already.

I prayed because even though I was not happy about driving in the dark like this, I still knew I had to get to you.  There was no turning back now.  So I asked God to give me the strength to pass the tractor/trailer so I could get back in the right lane and let the other drivers behind me go.  I deliberated but, eventually, I was able to pass!  I felt such a huge relief.  I also felt silly, embarrassed, and ashamed.  What was the big deal?  Why was I so fearful?  Why couldn't I just have the confidence that every other driver has, in the daylight or not?  I was very disappointed in myself, and felt like a child in that moment.

But I think you would understand, Ellie.  You know I wanted to be there for you and I had to make it to Connecticut alive.  I had to participate in the Mass and meet your family and friends, and hear what they had to say about you.  So I reassured my conflicted parts that by waiting to pass the truck, I was making what I thought was the best choice for my safety.  I did not want to cause an accident for myself or for anyone else.  I did not want to jeopardize saying goodbye to you.  And you know what?  After I passed that tractor/trailer, I continued on my journey and, though it took longer than I thought, the sky eventually grew lighter and lighter, and so did my mind and heart.  I knew I was still on the right path, and that perseverence had been key.

I felt victorious as I drove to you with patience and peace.  It was empowering to be in that car alone (well, you were there, but you know what I mean) and drive the long distance with a real purpose.  When I was approaching Coventry, I made a mistake and took the wrong road.  I began feeling anxious as I looked at the clock.  I could not be late to your funeral.  No way, that was not an option.  So I paid attention to the signs on the road.  I paid attention to how long I was driving until I knew for sure that I was going the wrong way.  Then I pulled into a side street and paused to gather myself.  I looked at the map on my phone, and studied where my blue dot was in relation to where I needed to be.  Okay, I thought, I just need to turn around and get back to where I was.  I hoped I had enough time, though.

I finally made it to the correct road and was heading toward the church, but you know what?  (I'll tell you this even though you were probably laughing at me from the passenger seat the whole time.)  I drove right past the church!  It was on the opposite side of the road from what I had been expecting.  I couldn't believe it.  I was so annoyed with myself.  But, as you know, when I pulled into the church driveway, a nice man told me where to park, and I entered St. Mary's with ten or more minutes to spare.  Whew!

I even had anxiety about whether I should stay for the cemetery part and the restaurant gathering.  I knew that no one there knew me personally (except from reading my other blog entry and contacting me on Facebook about it), and I felt like maybe I was intruding.  But I went to the cemetery, where I listened to a friend of yours from treatment read a beautiful piece she had written.  Then I watched your mother release the balloons that spelled out ELLIE into the air; they flew up, up, and away to who knows where.  I wanted to follow them to you.  It broke my heart to not be able to see where they went.  But I knew their brilliant colors would keep them safe.

I turned away from your coffin to leave the cemetery but I heard someone call my name, and...well, you know the rest.

P.S.  I blew you a kiss from my car as I passed your coffin on the way out; did you catch it?