The Nuba Mountains

As you know, the Nuba Mountains of Sudan, Africa hold a special place in my heart. What I experienced there, although I have tried, has never been adequately expressed in words...it changed my life.

What most people don't know is they are in the middle of a war between the the governments of the North and the South. Sudan is set to succeed into two states, the North and the South. However, the North is less then willing to let go of the Southern portion of the country as that is where the oil is.

The people of Gidel are a peaceful and loving people...Muslim, Tribal, and Christians all living together in peace. However, they are stuck in a horrible place...the middle.

Please pray for my Sudan. My friends are there and I hoped (and still hope) to return there once I am finished with nursing school. It holds a piece of my heart...

You won't hear about the war on US TV or read about it in our the papers...I don't know why but you won't.

Please, as the people of the Nuba Mountains suffer, pray for them, pray for their children. The Northern government bombed schools before...I have no doubt they will do it again.

Pride

Today's readings are centered around Lazarus....not Jesus' BFF but Lazarus the beggar (Luke 16:19-31).

There is a beautiful meditation in the Magnificat (shout out) that says the meaning of Lazarus name is "boethou'menos"- one who has been helped. I was struck deep at the meditation as it says the rich man was guilty of nothing more than pride....but what a horrible repercussion to his pride...not only was the rich man sent to an eternity of damnation but an eternity knowing that in all probability his brothers would follow. What a horrible burden!

But the saddest realization is that the opportunity for the rich man to "rid himself" from the sin of pride was before him on a daily basis. The reason Lazarus sat at the gate of the rich man was to hold the rich man accountable. Lazarus could have sat in a dark corner hiding his sores, filth, and even his deep longing to eat just the scraps that fell from the rich man's table but instead Lazarus was in plain site of the rich man day after day...which if you think about it is actually an act of mercy on the part of Lazarus. By sitting at the rich man's gate Lazarus offered with humility a constant means for the rich man to be relieved of his sin of pride and enter the kingdom of heaven.

We are called to have mercy on one another and to help each other carry our cross. We are called to examine our interactions with humanity and how we are relieving one another's sufferings. We may not see beggars covered with sores at our gates but everyday we pass by those who are suffering whether that be in body or mind. And it is our responsibility, as followers of Christ, to put aside our pride and reach down and help our suffering brothers and sisters carry their cross.

And by the same token, it is our responsibility to our brothers and sisters in Christ, to offer them the opportunity to help us carry our cross and rid themselves of the sin called pride...which if you think about it, the refusal to allow someone to help you carry your cross is also an act of pride.

If we think that we can live life alone with no help from others we are mistaken and filled with just as much pride as the rich man who walks buy the suffering Lazarus day after day.

I encourage you to use this beautiful time of Lent to look around you and see where Christ is offering an opportunity to rid yourself of such sins as pride...take a moment to look at your gate for Lazarus....he only wants the crumbs from your table after all.

+SM

I Am The Pro-Life Generation

Teenagers...what can I say about them other than I was one once.

My dear friend is a youth minister on Hilton Head Island which has given me the opportunity to volunteer with the youth at our parish. I will totally admit that I was VERY intimidated at the thought of interacting with middle/high schoolers as I was awkward at that age and am not totally sure I have grown out of it.

This past weekend I was privileged enough to help chaperone the youth group's annual trip to the March for Life in Washington DC. As an adopted child you can imagine that Pro-Life movement is one that is near and dear to my heart.

Although it was not my first time to the Washington DC March for Life , it was my first time chaperoning youth on an out of town trip...I was terrified. Hanging with youth and playing "ninja" is one thing but being responsible for their coming and going etc was enough to make me loose sleep in the days ahead.

As we wrapped up the March for Life trip we were asked to fill out a questionnaire with our thoughts on the trip...one of the questions was "When did you feel God was closest to us" or some variation of that.

My answer?

As we left the church at midnight Friday night to head to Washington DC we were lead in a Rosary by Team Dominican (2 Dominican Sisters that were also chaperoning the trip). By the time the Rosary was over I looked around and every single one of the youth were asleep. And THAT is when I felt God was closest to us. I felt as if we were in this peaceful bubble and that the world was just and right. I wanted to go around to every one of them and say a prayer over them and make the sign of the cross on their forehead...to remind them just how much God loves them and how precious they are to Him. I wanted them to know that when life goes "pear shaped" God will always be there to lead you were He wants you.

By no means do I feel "called" to be a Youth Minister BUT I do feel called to love. And loving these young people was enough to make my heart explode. As much as I hate to admit it, for fear of loosing my "street cred" these young men and women stole my heart and this beautiful pilgrimage to the Washington DC March for Life will forever be a grace filled time in my life.

I'm Back....

A little more than a year ago I returned home from my time discerning to become a religious sister. My transition to being back in the world, while on the surface, looked easy (I got a hair cut and my eyebrows waxed right after I got off the bus from Washington DC) inside my heart it has been a long and pain process of grieving.

The reasons I returned home are not important. But the way I felt inside is. I felt as if I had gone to marry Christ and He had decided He did not want to marry me. I felt rejected. And the worst part is I felt rejected by God. The ONE person whom had never let me down.

I have gone through all of the steps of grieving. Shock, guilt, anger...etc. My friends and family have been incredibly supportive. They have listened to me try to reconcile how Christ wouldn't want to marry me (I am kind of adorable after all). They have never stopped loving me...they were my Christ.

As I began to build my life back I learned to "fake it" for the sake of others. A handful of people knew how much I was struggling...that I was playing with fire when it came to my soul. I stopped going to Mass and Confession (which had been a daily and bi-weekly activity respectfully for the past year). I stopped PRAYING my Rosary which was the very thing that lead me to the Catholic church in the first place-funny enough though I never stopped carrying one in my pocket.

I found that I wasn't mad at the Church I was directly mad at God. He was the one person who could have changed the outcome of the whole experience. I yelled and screamed at Him while simultaneously begging Him to remove the pain I felt and hold me that way He had my entire life previous to this time. I wanted very much to throw my shoe at the tabernacle. Some people may have found my anger towards God shocking....but I saw at as confirmation that I really believe that He exists and has control over my life.

Through no work of my own but by the unconditional love and support of friends and family, my Christ(s) on Earth, I have found my way back into the arms of my loving Heavenly Father, His only begotten Son, and my most benevolent Mama Mary.

I look forward to Mass once again and end my day with my nightly Rosary. I am thankful for the never ending love that flows from the Mercy Seat of Christ and the Sacraments of the Catholic Church which heal my wounded soul. God is Love.

Under African Skies-Sudan 2009

Our Last Week in Sudan

This marks the our last week here in the Nuba Mountains of Sudan. We are still healthy and well! Thank you for you prayers as I believe that is what has helped to keep us this way.

The dry season is upon the land here and the effects of the hot sun with no rain have already begun to take their toll. The crops that have yet to be harvested have begun to turn brown and the people have begun burning the dry grass. The sisters who are here permanently fear a famine next year as the dry season has come early and the people have not been able to harvest enough food for next year.

We continue to plug along with our work here. This week I was able to observe a total hysterectomy which unfortunatly turned out to be cancer. I couldn't believe the size of the overies when they were pulled out...as big as oranges. I have to admit that as much as I try to be tough amongst all of the suffering here my deffences are getting worn down. There is a child here who is a victim of Cerebral Malaria and not only has upper body weakness but seems to "live in a different world" then we do. He often cries out with wailing noises and it pierces my heart. I try to imagine that the angles are with him and parallel his helplessness with that of baby Jesus as we come upon the Advent season. Seeing all of this suffering really puts your life in perspective and when I feel a little tired and hot from the weather I remember quickly this child and all of the others at the hospital and I just suck it up and deal with it.

I have had to drop the Melissa from my name while I am here as 2 names is a tough concept for the people here to grasp and the local brew is called Marisa and Melissa is often mistaken for that...and well that just isn't good for business, HA HA HA! I am counting down to having a cold one though and have little faith that it will be my favorite Mother Ship but at this point I would willingly take a cold Milwakee Beast..I mean Best!

Yesterday I went with Fr. Tom to the local playing field for some local wrestling. The Nuba people were VERY well known for their wrestling skills, however, due to the war it seems to have been lost but I hope that it is a tradition that will pick back up. The maternal instinct inside of me wanted to yell out, "someone is going to end up crying," but I held strong and just winced inside when someones body came crashing to the ground.

Next Thursday Morning, God willing, Sr. DeDe and I will board a Samaritan's Purse plane for Nairobi and will arrive in the evening. On Monday we will head to England where Sr. DeDe is going to meet with some young women who feel called to the religious life and I will spend a few days with Grandma and Grandpa!!! I have already requested my favorite Grandma meal of Bacon and Onion Pudding and I have to admit that I am not sure if I am looking more forward to having a beer or getting the sand out of the inconvenient places it has found itself!!

Thank you again for all of your prayers and support. Without you this wouldn't be possible!!

The Stars at Night are Big and Bright....Deep in the Heart of Sudan

Can you believe that we have been gone for almost a month now? Neither can I!!

Last week I witnessed my first normal baby delivery as opposed to the stork dropping of the baby. It was pretty intense. I was the person coaching the patient to push etc. Can you believe I was the first person to hold baby and I got to tie and cut the cord? AMAZING!

Melanie and I went with Fr. Tom to the market on Saturday. Just like home there is a "Starbucks" on every corner, HA HA HA. The coffee is locally grown and pretty awesome. There is normally wrestling in the market on the weekends but due to the rain it was cancelled...maybe next week. We tasted some of the local brew out of gourds....all I could think was please God don't let me die from the germs of the million people who have drunk out of this thing before me :)

On Sunday I went with Fr. Tom to a welcome home celebration for a young man who had been separated from his family due to the war and had been in a refugee camp in Kenya for the past 10 years. He was actually on the cargo flight with us from Locochoggio, Kenya and it was beautiful to see the initial reunion. As this was a "big" feast for the family a goat was slaughtered...again I tested the strength of my stomach in an attempt to not offend the family that had so graciously welcomed me into their home. So...I ate goat and sorghum tortillas and continually talked myself out of throwing up. I did manage to escape a concoction of okra that looked like snot when you spooned it out of the bowl...phew dogged that bullet!

We have had several sad cases come into the hospital over the past few days. I know I have said this before but I can't get over how life and death are so matter of fact here. No one points fingers of blame...it is just part of life. There is a baby here who is 4 days old and has Spina Bifida. There is fear that Baby already has menegitis as he has such a high pitched cry. Tomorrow Sr. DeDe will perform surgery to repair the opening and I hope to observe the surgery. Please pray for her and the baby!

I am greatly enjoying my time with the Camboni sisters. They have been more than gracious hosteses to me and are teaching me little nuggets of wisdom. My favorite so far is: In order to be a good missionary you must have the stomach of a pig to eat anything, the shoulders of a donkey to carry you belongings with you where ever you go, and the knees of a camel to spend a great amount of time in prayer.

I am helping the sisters with a project to obtain funding for the secondary school here in Gidel. The young people that attend St. Joseph Seconday School live at the school as the school is very far for some of them. While the young women are able to reside in a dormatory, the young men have to fend for themselves and some have built make shift homes near the campus of the school. I couldn't get over the fact that some of the students, due to lack of money, only eat the 1 meal a day provided by the school. I was floored!! Sr. Angelina was telling me that the cost in US dollars to send a young person to secondary school for 1 year including food, shelter, medical care, the whole nine yards....$200 A YEAR!! People in the US spend that on jeans!! It has been an eye opening experience to work on this project to say the least!

We all continue to be strong and healthy and work hard. Please continue to keep us in your prayers for the next three weeks!