Category Archives: Uncategorized

En Avant Pour L’Avent, Week 1: My BFF Jesus

Posted in Uncategorized by

As you begin to read this post, you probably have two burning questions:

Q. WHERE THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN, VICKY? IT’S BEEN OVER A MONTH!

A. I firmly believe that November is the most jam-packed month of the year. Yes, even busier than December. It’s like the world needs to cram all the non-holiday-related obligations into November to make room for all the bustle of the Christmas season. So yeah, between teaching, lesson planning, and a little traveling, I’ve been busy. I’m sorry. 😦 But I’m hoping that this Advent will give me more time to write, which brings me to …

Q. Why is the title of this post in French, and what does it mean?

A. This past Sunday was the first Sunday of Advent, and as usual, I went to the messe des jeunes — youth evening mass — in town. A seminarian there was wearing a bright green rubber bracelet that said “En Avant Pour L’Avent,” which roughly translates to “All ready for Advent!” It’s catchier in French, in my humble opinion.

I thought it would be a great title for my Advent series on this blog. The season of Advent is a time of preparation for the coming of the infant Jesus at Christmas … so what does that mean? Around this time, people start, or have already made, their Christmas game plans: when the parties are, what decorations need to be put up, and “Gosh, I need to remember to get a gift for my boss’ secretary’s assistant’s kid.” It’s easy to go into Advent without a spiritual game plan and try to squeeze in time for Mass between shopping sprees.

This year, I really wanted to use Advent to grow closer to Jesus, to more deeply understand His love for me, and ultimately, to make Him my best friend.

In many chastity talks for women I’ve seen, the speaker talks about making Jesus the love of your life, the man who satisfies you before anyone else. This is something I’ve been trying to do for a long time now, and I’d get frustrated when I would examine my conscience and think, “Nope, I still want a husband more than I want Jesus.” I didn’t know how to fix this, and I knew I couldn’t force myself to love Jesus in that way, even though He already had that love times infinity for me.

I got a hint two weeks ago at the messe de jeunes. I absolutely LOVE this Mass! The musicians and the lectors are all high school and college students, the priests are generally younger and more energetic, and it reminds me so much of Mass at my American college. I felt right at home after my first youth Mass, and I started going to Wednesday evenings at the aumônerie, or religious education center, where I met a ton of welcoming and fun French Catholic students. Whenever I went to Sunday Mass or to a Wednesday meeting, I was sure of seeing a lot of people I knew who would come up to me and say “Salut!” and kiss me on both cheeks (faire la bise).

Two weeks ago, I walked into the church, and knew nobody. I don’t know what was going on that week, but all my new acquaintances at the aumônerie, and even a Catholic teacher I was becoming good friends with, weren’t there.

Those of you who know me personally know that I like people. I can have my introverted moments, but for the most part, I find God most often in other people. At this moment, I had no people, so there was no faith, no community, no joy. I turned bitter. I was uncivil to the people who did look my way and say “Bonsoir.” I was sorely disappointed; I had needed a Catholic community and there was none to be seen.

At some point, a voice spoke in my heart, “There is still Jesus.” There, right in front of me, on the altar, was my Savior, who had given up His life — His guiltless, blameless life — for me, a sinner. John 15:13 says, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” We often see Jesus as a Lord, or a Master, not a friend. But He desires to be our friend! No one knew this better than Saint Teresa of Avila, who wrote, “For prayer is nothing else than being on terms of friendship with God.”

This Advent season, I am working to build that friendship with Jesus. In seeking to make Jesus the love of my life, I had forgotten that the greatest and longest-lasting love stories begin when a beautiful friendship blossoms into something more. Jesus did not give His life on the Cross without spending time with His disciples and the people He ministered to, teaching them, breaking bread with them, and healing them. A relationship with God doesn’t just happen; we need to cultivate it.

So here is my Advent Game Plan. I hope it will inspire you to write your own:

1. Read the Bible chapter mentioned in the daily verse on my Advent calendar.

2. Do the daily reflection in my “Five Minutes with the Word” booklet. (Thanks, Catholic community care package!)

3. Confession at least once and Mass as often as possible.

4. Journaling, with the intention of filling up my five-year-old journal before Christmas.

5. Bringing my problems to prayer before sharing them with anyone else.

Stay tuned for more Advent updates! This weekend, I will be going on a retreat at a very special location. It’s going to be awesome. Know that I am praying for you this Advent season.

Bisous!

– Vicky

What’s your Advent Game Plan? Tell me in the comments!

Question Tuesday, TAPIF Style

Posted in Uncategorized by

“Good morning, Hank! It’s Question Tuesday, the day I answer real questions from real Nerdfighters!”

Just kidding, I’m not John Green. But I have had people asking me a ton of questions lately.

I’ve wrapped up my first week as an English teaching assistant. I am working at two middle schools in a small city about an hour north of Paris. I’m not going to say the name because this is the Internet and people are creepy. This week, I became an expert in introducing myself. Most of my time was spent being interrogated by middle schoolers. In some classes, I would conduct one-on-one interviews where the students had to introduce themselves to me and then ask me questions, all in English. Other times, I was at the front of the room and they would call out questions at random.

Aside from the usual “What’s your name?” and “How old are you?” and “Where are you from?” schpeel, many students asked me some really intelligent, funny and thought-provoking questions. Sure, I got the American stereotype questions — “Do you like MacDo?”, where MacDo = McDonald’s — but I was pleasantly surprised at how articulate and thoughtful some of my students were in choosing questions to ask me. So, for my first post from France, here are my top six questions from the past week.

6. Do you have a boyfriend?/ Are you engaged?/ Are you married?/ Do you have kids?

No, no, no, and no. This is one that every single language assistant I’ve talked to has been asked. Answering this question was always awkward and embarrassing, maybe because the students had no qualms about asking. But hey, that’s one thing I appreciate about French people in general: they always tell you exactly what they’re thinking, even if they don’t know you. On my way home from school today, a high school girl who I’d never seen before called after me to tell me my skirt was riding up in the back. It wasn’t out of rudeness, just frankness. (Ha ha. Get it? France? Frank? … OK …)

5. Are the French as “froggy” as you anticipated?

No, they are not. For those of you who are totally lost, the French and the British have had a pretty fierce rivalry going on for centuries. As one of the English teachers explained to me, the British call the French “frogs” because they eat frog legs, which I still want to try. I understand why a French student would ask me this; traditionally, French students learn more British English than American English, though this is starting to change as more American movies and TV shows make it across the ocean. (Apparently, France has Netflix now! If only I could get it to work on my computer … ) As an American, I’m going to stay out of it … and become a mutual easy target for both French and British wit.

4. Who are your favorite YouTubers? 

This was such a refreshing favorites question! I think I listed John and Hank Green and Jenna Marbles because they were the only two I could think of on the spot. But a few others I love are the Fine Brothers, the Anima Series, Jacksfilms, Postmodern Jukebox, and Matt Guion. Check them out if you haven’t already!

3. Which is more important to you: friends or family?

If I had to choose, family. As much as I love my friends — and believe me, I am blessed to call so many beautiful and loyal people friends — I have lost many good friends along the way, but my family has always been there. Above anything, I am so lucky to have such a rock-solid relationship with my family. My parents actually are two of the coolest people I know. Seriously. My sister and I haven’t lived in the same place for more than a few weeks over the past two years, but I’m so proud of her and I miss her terribly. And very few things can beat the four of us going out to dinner, splitting a bottle of wine, and talking about the important questions. I love you guys.

OK, enough mush.

2. Which do you like better: France or the United States?

Are you trying to make me choose between my children?

There are things I like and dislike about both countries — future blog post, maybe? An obvious win for France is their food. Cheese, chocolate, wine, and BREAD — need I say more? I’m also in love with European public transportation. It’s fast, inexpensive, modern, mostly clean and so much less confusing than the mess that is the New York City subway system. I also love that in many French towns, you don’t need a car to get around. I don’t feel as guilty if I have a pain au chocolat at lunch because I know I have a 20-minute walk each way to work. What I don’t like about France? The abundance of smokers. And of dog poop. Seriously. I don’t know if it’s because some French people don’t keep their dogs on leashes when they walk them, or if there are more strays, or what, but it’s everywhere.

As for America? Well, it’s my native land. I know how most things work. I understand the subtle cultural rules you only notice if you go to a foreign country. OK, we have better hamburgers, I’ll give you that. I love that my family and friends are here. I love traveling to different states. And I do appreciate living so close to New York City, especially when I see my French students’ faces light up with envy. Don’t get me wrong, there are so many awful things about our country and we have a lot of work to do to make it better, but I know that we can make it better. We just have to be willing to take the hard way instead of the easy way or the way that will make us the most money.

1. Why France?

This one is hard to explain. I’ve just always had a fascination with France. Maybe it has something to do with the hundreds of times I watched Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” as a kid. Or maybe it was the hundreds of times I watched Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” as a teenager/adult.

OK, I’m not giving Disney all the credit. It has to share the spotlight with Madeline.

In all seriousness, I am not a likely candidate for a francophile. I have no French heritage, and no one else in my immediate family speaks French. But for some reason, I was always drawn to photographs of Paris and to stories that took place in France. So when I learned that I could take a language class in eighth grade, I jumped at the opportunity to take French. I haven’t looked back.

So yeah, anyone who has the audacity to say that kids aren’t smart can shut up right now.

Merci à tous, especially those of you who’ve known me throughout my love affair with France.

À trés bientôt!

– Vicky

Question of the Week: What’s the most interesting question someone has ever asked you? Please tell me in the comments!

What Children’s Literature Heroines Can Teach You About Singlehood

Posted in Uncategorized by

I know, I know. Where have I been? Life’s been pretty crazy, as I’ve finished my internship, moved back home and am leaving for France in TWO DAYS. But this is a topic I’ve been wanting to blog about for a long time, and I didn’t want to leave the country without sharing it with you.

This summer, I was on a “Pride and Prejudice” binge. I finally watched the critically acclaimed BBC adaptation, listened to the audiobook on repeat, and stayed up until 3 a.m. to finish reading “The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet” (based on the AWESOME web series.)

Then, all of a sudden, I got sick of it.

Yeah, I know, you’d think I would after the second go-through of a 10-hour audiobook. But it wasn’t the story or the characters or the writing that turned me off. It was Elizabeth Bennet: the strong, intelligent, and active female protagonist that all other strong, intelligent, and active female protagonists are measured against. She’s a fantastic character, but in the end, we all just want to see her and Darcy finally get together. I started wondering how Elizabeth might be different if Darcy wasn’t in the picture.

Then I thought of all of my other favorite strong, intelligent, and active female protagonists. No matter how independent they are, most of their journeys are ultimately defined by their romantic relationships. Emma Woodhouse. Hazel Grace Lancaster. Jane Eyre (my personal favorite). Even Katniss Everdeen, arguably one of the most kick-butt female protagonists of our time, is overshadowed by Peeta vs. Gale arguments. Why couldn’t any of these awesome ladies stand on their own? I thought about my favorite books from childhood: many of them had female protagonists, and almost none of them had a consistent love interest! You might think, “That’s cheating! They’re kids! They’re too young to be thinking about romance!” Precisely.

Remember that point in your life when it didn’t matter who liked whom, when you could just focus on being yourself? Guess what? You can and should still focus on you and your relationships with God, family, friends and the greater world.

In no particular order, here are my top 10 female protagonists who don’t need no man:

1. Sara Crewe from “A Little Princess” (Frances Hodgson Burnett)

Lesson: You have the dignity and worth of royalty, regardless of your past or your present situation. 

The whole ‘princess’ image has gotten a lot of flack in the past few decades. But Burnett nailed the idea of a feminist princess way before Disney could mess it up. Sure, Sara Crewe is rich, pampered, and elegant at the beginning of the story, and when her clothes and possessions aren’t enough to win affection, she has her intelligence, kindness and knack for storytelling to speak for her. She’s likable enough. But what makes this novel so fascinating and well-loved is Sara’s inner transformation after her father’s death leaves her penniless. When her outward beauty and wealth is gone, Sara develops her inner wealth — the grace, compassion, and composure found in real royal figures like the Duchess of Cambridge. These qualities become her more than any pink silk dress ever could.

“‘Whatever comes,’ she said, ‘cannot alter one thing. If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in cloth of gold, but it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time when no one knows it.'”

2. Mary Lennox from “The Secret Garden” (Frances Hodgson Burnett)

Lesson: Friendship is healing, even if your friends are boys!

Mary Lennox is the antithesis of Sara Crewe at the beginning of her story. She is selfish, bitter, and angry, and shuns all affection. But as Mary spends more time reviving her late aunt’s garden, her cold, broken heart begins to heal. Her friendships with Dickon, a boy who lives on the moor, and Colin, her invalid cousin, are also instrumental in her healing process. There is never anything romantic about her relationships with them; she loves them as people. And their friendship — especially between Mary and Colin — is symbiotic. They help each other to heal and grow and change as they watch how Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary’s garden grows.

“And they both began to laugh over nothing as children will when they are happy together. And they laughed so that in the end they were making as much noise as if they had been two ordinary healthy natural ten-year-old creatures — instead of a hard, little, unloving girl and a sickly boy who believed that he was going to die.”

3. Matilda Wormwood from “Matilda” (Roald Dahl)

Lesson: Never settle. If something isn’t right, stand up for yourself and get out.

Brilliant, sensitive, and the best partner-in-crime on April Fool’s Day, Matilda deserved better than the horrible family she grew up in. Then again, no child deserves parents as awful as the Wormwoods, but we felt that our beloved Matilda especially didn’t deserve them. And we rejoiced when she finally realized that she deserved the best, stood up to her parents and Miss Trunchbull, and found a loving mother in Miss Honey. Like Matilda, if we don’t have the courage to get out of disastrous or “just OK” relationships, we may miss out on what we’ve been looking for all along.

“All the reading she had done had given her a view of life that they had never seen. If only they would read a little Dickens or Kipling they would soon discover there was more to life than cheating people and watching television.”

4. Anne Shirley from “Anne of Green Gables” (Lucy Maud Montgomery)

Lesson: Life doesn’t begin when you get married. It’s happening right now, so drink it all in and savor it.

OK, I’m kind of cheating on this one because *spoiler alert* Anne marries Gilbert Blythe later in the series. However, we fall in love with Anne and follow her story because of her imagination, her zest for life, her intelligence, and her penchant for getting into trouble — not because we’re waiting around worrying about her love life. Anne doesn’t think about romantic love at all for most of the series. In fact, if you look at the first book on its own, you’ll see that her and Gilbert’s story arc is more about forgiveness than flirtation. Anne is a happy, whole, peaceful, and distinctive person throughout the series. While her childhood schoolmates are worrying about love and marriage, Anne becomes the first girl from Avonlea to get her B.A. If she had stayed single throughout the books, that would have been fine with us. As it is, Gilbert does not define her nor complete her; he complements her.

“Dear old world’, she murmured, ‘you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you.”

5. Molly from “Molly’s Pilgrim” (Barbara Cohen)

Lesson: Never underestimate the power of your testimony.

Molly is a Russian Jewish immigrant, and she faces ridicule and prejudice at her new American school. She often tries to hide her heritage in order to fit in. But in the end, with the help of her teacher, Miss Stickley, she owns her identity and takes pride in it. Even if you don’t have a Miss Stickley, God sees your worth and dignity and wants to use your testimony for the glory of His Kingdom and to draw others closer to Him.

“It takes all kinds of pilgrims to make a Thanksgiving.”

6. Annemarie Johansen from “Number the Stars” (Lois Lowry)

Lesson: The world is a scary place, but you CAN learn how to navigate and thrive in it.

Imagine being 10 years old and having your best friend’s life in your hands. And not just her life, but her family’s, your family’s, your own life, and those of several strangers! Annemarie is a Lutheran girl from Denmark who becomes involved in a plan to help her Jewish best friend, Ellen, escape the Nazis. Annemarie never says she isn’t afraid; in fact, she readily admits that she’s scared to death. But she does what she has to do to save Ellen and her family. Like Eleanor Roosevelt said, “A woman is like a tea bag; you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”

“I think you are like your mama, and like your papa, and like me. Frightened, but determined, and if the time came to be brave, I am quite sure you would be very, very brave.”

7. Margaret “Meg” Murry from “A Wrinkle in Time” (Madeleine L’Engle)

Lesson: You have to be independent, but you are never alone.

Though Meg is intelligent, she constantly looks to others in times of trouble: her brother Charles Wallace; her long-absent father; her intergalactic friends; and even popular athlete Calvin. Meg thinks that she’s too stupid, too ugly, and too ill-tempered to solve her own problems. Though it’s easy to roll your eyes at her, how many of us have felt worthless or doubted our own abilities? When Meg learns that she is the only one who can save Charles Wallace from the powers of IT, she’s terrified. But with the love of her family and friends behind her, Meg summons her strength and finds her self-worth. Yes, I know Calvin kisses her and it’s cute, but THAT’S NOT THE POINT OF THE STORY. Meg’s internal conflict isn’t resolved when she and Calvin get together (They never really do; it’s just inferred that they like each other.) Her story arc only comes to a close when she accepts the very adult responsibility of her brother’s life and her own, and emerges victorious. WOOHOO!

“‘Father saved me then. There’s nobody here to save me now. I have to do it myself. I have to resist IT by myself.'”

8. Luna Lovegood from the “Harry Potter” series (J.K. Rowling)

Lesson: Embrace your uniqueness, and you will attract the right kind of people for you.

I know what you’re thinking — no Hermione? Let me put it this way: The Potter fandom wasn’t in an uproar because Rowling second-guessed Luna’s love life. I’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who didn’t respect Luna. Yeah, she was weird, but she was a talented, intuitive, and compassionate ally in the fight against Voldemort. She never changed for anyone, and everyone grew to love her for it.

“‘People expect you to have cooler friends than us,’ said Luna, once again displaying her knack for embarrassing honesty. ‘You are cool,’ said Harry shortly. ‘None of them was at the Ministry. They didn’t fight with me.” – “Half-Blood Prince”

9. Jean Louise “Scout” Finch from “To Kill a Mockingbird” (Harper Lee)

Lesson: Spend time with people who are different than you. Don’t try to change them, but learn from them.

This book is just chock full of life lessons, but many of them point to the themes of empathy and of judging people based on what they are, rather than what you hear about them. At the beginning of the novel, Scout Finch, like many children, accepts any opinion that comes her way: the Cunninghams are stubbornly poor, Mrs. Dubose is a grouchy old witch, Aunt Alexandra is a nosy busybody, and Boo Radley has no good reason to stay in his house forever. But through her interactions with these and many other characters in Maycomb, she begins to understand that each person is complex, with flaws and virtues alike. Her final interaction with Boo is so moving because she has learned to love — not the same love she feels for Atticus and Jem, but an active choice to love another human being.

“’I think there’s just one kind of folks, Jem. Folks.’”

10. Margaret Ann Simon from “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” (Judy Blume)

Lesson: Find your well of living water — where you are nourished spiritually.

Margaret is the 12-year-old daughter of a Jewish father and a Christian mother. Religious identity is a prominent theme in the novel, as Margaret faces pressure from her grandparents, friends and classmates to pick a side. In John’s gospel, in the story of the woman at the well, Jesus talks about the “living water” which becomes “a spring of water welling up to eternal life” in those who believe (John 4: 10-14). Without realizing it, Margaret develops a profound prayer life that sustains and feeds her spirit. The best part of it is that she doesn’t choose a religion at the end of the story; she realizes that her walk of faith, like ours, is a lifelong journey. So, in your singlehood, find your “well of living water,” whether it’s daily Mass, bible study, the Rosary, long solitary walks, or being in community with other people of faith. And don’t be afraid to try other forms of prayer and worship.

“Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret. I want you to know I’m giving a lot of thought to Christmas and Hanukkah this year. I’m trying to decide if one might be special for me. I’m really thinking hard, God. But so far, I haven’t come up with any answers.”

FRANCE IN TWO DAYS! Stay tuned for more adventures in the coming months.

Question of the Week: Who would you add to this list and why? Please tell me in the comments! I’ll have to add them to my reading list.

Red High Heels in Church: Some Thoughts on Modesty

Posted in Uncategorized by

I was unstoppable on Wednesday morning. Despite the vampiric sleep schedule my job has inspired this summer, I was up early enough to bake pains au chocolat for an office World Cup party the next day. Then, I put on an adorable outfit that I hadn’t worn to the office yet, and headed off to daily Mass before work. I was hyped until Communion. As I passed through the pew to the aisle, I tried to shake off the wave of self-consciousness that suddenly came over me, as if something about me was impure or improper, and not worthy to be seen by our Lord. Embarrassed, I looked down, and I saw the suspects: my cherry red, faux-suede pumps.

I had put them on that morning thinking they added a much-needed pop of color to my black-and-white dress. But now, I was convinced, the people around me must think I was going to hit the bars after Mass! Why, oh why, I asked myself, didn’t I stick with sensible flats? Why couldn’t I be more MODEST?

Hitherto, I’ve avoided talking about modesty on this blog because I was never sure how to go about it. It’s a topic that is under frequent discussion in women’s ministry, and it can very easily be mishandled, or in extreme cases, dissolve into blaming and criticizing our sisters in Christ. Then there are conflicting ideas about what constitutes modest dress: Should I not wear makeup or jewelry? Can I still wear shorts in the summer? Throw in the recent discussions in the media about sexual assault on college campuses and sexist dress codes in middle and high schools, and the word “modesty” becomes almost as despicable as the word “patriarchy.”

Let me be clear: A short skirt or a low-cut top is NOT an invitation. NOBODY, no woman, ever “deserves” assault. Period. 

Moving on. Recently I’ve discovered how much I hate the popular phrase “modest is hottest.” I don’t choose to dress modestly because I think it’ll attract more guys, nor because I’m ashamed of my body. I choose to dress modestly because it makes me feel comfortable and beautiful — not “hot,” beautiful. And guess what? Modesty is NOT just a “women’s issue.” That’s right, men should strive to be modest as well, in their dress as well as in their thoughts and actions. I also don’t think that dressing modestly makes me better than anyone else; trying to “out-modest” other women completely misses the point!

What point is that? Well, I should get back to my story at Mass. I went through Communion as usual, acutely aware of the clomp-clomp my heels made on the tile floor. I was mortified. After Mass was over, I walked to the statue of our Blessed Mother. My Confirmation name is Marie, and in every church I visit, I look for a statue of Mary.

I hadn’t even finished my usual Hail Mary before I heard a voice in my heart say, “You’re thinking too much about your heels. I would rather you focus on being a bride of Christ in your heart.”

I was stunned. I looked up into the statue’s face.

“My daughter,” the voice continued. “Don’t you know that you are beautiful? That you are a bride of Christ?”

“But Mama Mary,” I protested. “How can I be a bride of Christ if I don’t dress like one?”

“Even if you were wearing the skimpiest and shabbiest outfit in the world, you would STILL be a bride of Christ, a daughter of the King of Kings. Therefore, stand tall, hold your head up, and act like one.”

True modesty is not covering up to give the illusion of holiness; it is allowing our inner life, our spiritual life, to manifest itself on the outside.

Coincidentally, the Gospel that day was the passage from Matthew, Ch. 6 where Jesus talks about hypocrisy: “When you dress, do not be like the hypocrites who break out a tape measure and compare the width of their neighbors’ spaghetti straps to their own, or the length of their neighbor’s skirt to their own. Amen I say to you, they have received their reward.”

OK, that’s not actually what it says. But the same ideas expressed in that chapter can be very easily applied to modesty. If we don’t act, think and feel modestly in our “inner room,” how are we supposed to show true modesty to the rest of the world?

I’m not saying that modesty should not be talked about, but that it shouldn’t be just a dress code; it should be a code of honor.

We are the daughters and sons of a King. We have the dignity of royalty. So let’s hold our heads high and act like it.

And I’m totally wearing my red heels next year on Pentecost Sunday.

A plus!

– Vicky

How do you practice modesty aside from your physical appearance? Share in the comments below!

Two Tongues, One Spirit

Posted in Uncategorized by

Happy Pentecost, everyone! At Mass this morning, we heard from the Acts of the Apostles. I was reminded of a talk I gave on my college Catholic community’s fall retreat in October, in which I used the same reading. I’d like to share with you an abridged version of that talk, as my personal Pentecost reflection. Veni sancte spiritus.

I’d like to start by examining what community is, and why the global community of Catholics is a special one. Think of some of the communities you’ve been a part of: a team or club, a staff at a job, etc. In all of these cases, people come together to strive toward a common goal. They have different backgrounds, personalities and beliefs, but there is something bigger than all these individuals that unites them. What do Americans say when we recite the Pledge of Allegiance? “One nation, under God.” We are united. In the global community of Catholics, the Holy Spirit is our uniting force.

Let’s look at a reading from the second chapter of the Acts of the Apostles (2:1-11):

“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.

Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven staying in Jerusalem. At this sound, they gathered in a large crowd, but they were confused because each one heard them speaking in his own language. They were astounded, and in amazement they asked, ‘Are not all these people who are speaking Galileans? Then how does each of us hear them in his native language? We are Parthians, Medes, and Elamites, inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the districts of Libya near Cyrene, as well as travelers from Rome, both Jews and converts to Judaism, Cretans and Arabs, yet we hear them speaking in our own tongues
of the mighty acts of God.'”

Frustrating pronunciation aside, this reading exemplifies why the global community of Catholics means so much to me. How many of you have ever attended Mass at a Catholic church that wasn’t your home parish? I’m willing to bet that most of you had little to no trouble following the order of the Mass. You knew the prayers, when to stand, when to sit, when it was time for Communion, etc. No matter where you are in the world, Catholics celebrate Mass in almost exactly the same way. When we listen to the readings on Sundays, millions of other people are hearing the same words in their own language at the same time. Think about that. Millions of people all over the world — many who you will never meet in this lifetime — are joining together, praising God in one voice. Isn’t that amazing?

The word Catholic comes from the Greek word catholikismos, meaning “according to the whole” or “universal.” This etymology became more meaningful to me over this past year. As many of you know, I studied abroad in Nantes, a large city in the western half of France, during my junior year of college. On Jan. 9, 2013, I arrived alone in a foreign country, loaded down with two huge suitcases and fighting off the remnants of a fever. Even my eight years of French classes couldn’t have prepared me for that moment. The first few weeks were much more difficult than I could have imagined. I missed my family and friends. I missed my life at school. And I missed the Catholic community there. I felt like I didn’t have any roots, or anything secure to hold on to. There were several nights where I cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t leave then; my parents had already bought my plane ticket home for May. I knew I had to live there, but how could I fit in?

My saving grace that semester was my host family. That first night, five pairs of brown eyes stared at me from around the dinner table as I tried to introduce myself in broken French. It was terrifying, but they were patient with me. After dinner, the family gathered in the living room, and Madame explained that the family’s tradition was to read the daily scripture and pray together before bed. I was amazed. I knew my host family was Catholic because their youngest son went to a Catholic high school, but until then, I hadn’t known to what degree they practiced their faith.

I don’t remember what passage Madame read that night, but even with my limited French, I had few problems understanding it. I remember feeling a warm glow sputtering inside my chest. It seemed as though the Holy Spirit was speaking to me, to all of us, in a language that was beyond words and cultural barriers. After she finished the reading, Madame prayed out loud for me, that I would have an easy adjustment to life in France, and for the family, that they would receive the strength and grace to help me as best they could. Afterward, we said the Our Father and the Hail Mary in French, and surprisingly, I could follow along. For the first time since I had arrived in France, I felt like I was home.

As the weeks went by, my faith strengthened me, and I grew in my relationship with God. I learned to say the Our Father and Hail Mary in French. My host family took me to Mass every Sunday and brought along their missal so I could learn the responses. When we visited Paris, we attended Mass at the Chapel of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal and I got my own medal blessed by the sisters there. About a month and a half into my stay, I started attending meetings of the Catholic community at the local university. Their potluck dinners reminded me of Catholic community soup suppers back home, and I did make some friends there.

I can remember my prayer walk that I did on the last fall retreat before I left the States, where I asked God if He would be with me in France. He said, very clearly, “I will be with you wherever you go.”

Robert Frost wrote, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” But wherever my walk with God has lead me, across state lines or across oceans, I have never been under the impression that a Catholic church has taken me in out of obligation, but out of Christ’s love. It is true that the Church is God’s house, but God’s unconditional love and acceptance and community does not stop at the church doors. As the hymn says, we take the love of God with us as we go. We are called to share that love with the rest of the world. There is no maximum capacity in heaven. God welcomes everyone of every race, language, gender, sexual orientation, economic status, everyone! And we are called to do the same.

If any of you have seen the musical Godspell, the opening number, “Tower of Babble” is a good illustration of this. At the beginning of the number, each ensemble member represents a different philosopher — Socrates, Nietzsche, da Vinci, etc. — and sing their different philosophies loudly, trying to drown out the others. In the next number, John the Baptist enters and tells them to prepare the way of the Lord, and baptizes the whole cast. The Word of God is powerful enough to bring together people who, just moments before, wouldn’t listen to each other or who couldn’t understand one another.

This weekend I pray that we will grow in communion with each other, and through the courage of the Holy Spirit, share that communion with the rest of the world. I would like to close by bringing my host family’s tradition to you. I will be reading from the Gospel of Luke, offering a short prayer, and then closing with the Our Father in French.

A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Luke (6:12-16):

Jesus went up to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God. When day came, he called his disciples to himself, and from them he chose Twelve, whom he also named Apostles: Simon, whom he named Peter, and his brother Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James the son of Alphaeus, Simon who was called a Zealot, and Judas the son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor.

Loving Jesus, we ask you to open our hearts to one another and to Your word, that we may grow in discipleship with You. Send down your Spirit, and renew the face of the earth. I ask all of this in Your name, Amen.

Notre Père qui es aux cieux,
que ton Nom soit sanctifié,
que ton règne vienne,
que ta volonté soit faite
sur la terre comme au ciel.
Donne-nous aujourd’hui notre pain de ce jour.
Pardonne-nous nos offenses,
comme nous pardonnons aussi à ceux qui nous ont offensés.
Et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation,
mais délivre-nous du mal. Amen.

A bientôt!

– Vicky

Have you ever met any Catholics from a different country, or attended Mass in another language? Share your experiences in the comments below.

Multiplying My Smallest Gifts

Posted in Uncategorized by

It’s my first weekend off since I graduated college.

I know, it sounds bizarre, considering that graduation was almost four weeks ago. I am blessed to have been able to spend a Saturday afternoon touring my new hometown — at least for this summer — in Florida. But God lead me through some rough spots over the past few weeks in order to bring me to a place of tranquility.

Back in November, I was offered a copy editing internship through the Dow Jones News Fund. It was a huge shock for someone who has never taken a journalism class. I was excited beyond belief to spend a summer in Florida working for one of the most prestigious news organizations in the world.

After I graduated college, I raced home to pack up my life in two days, and then headed to Temple University in Philadelphia for a week that can be best described as “journalism boot camp.” Imagine cramming a semester-long introductory course into just a week. I, along with 12 other interns from all over the country, had eight hours of class every day, and at least six hours of studying to do every night. We were tested on Associated Press Style, New York Times Style, spelling, geography, headline-writing and countless other subjects. I’ve always considered myself a good speller, but bombing my first spelling test eradicated that notion.

There was only one other non-journalism major in the room, and from my perspective, he could rattle off terms like “pica” and “refer” with as much finesse as any of the others. I was so intimidated, so afraid that whatever I said in class was insipid or wrong. I was terrified that, because of my lack of a journalism degree, I would personally be responsible for the undoing of a prestigious internship program that has been running for more than 50 years.

I know, it sounds dramatic, but we all have been in that situation of feeling inadequate, especially when we are surrounded by the best in our field, any field. We feel like our own God-given talents are insufficient to distinguish us as the best, the brightest or the most talented of the group. And we get angry at ourselves, even at God, for our lack of perfection in a culture that thirsts for and esteems it.

I was brought to this low point after the second day of class. I needed Jesus, but He seemed so far away. Then, I remembered something I had packed in my suitcase.

It was a little blue pamphlet, “The Catholic Devotional,” that I had thoughtlessly picked up at the church downtown in my last few weeks of college. The final prayer in the book caught my attention:

‘My Jesus, how often I feel very small and inadequate before great tasks and responsibilities. What can I do but bring all that I have, even though it isn’t much, and place all this in Your hands, wait for Your blessing, breaking, thanking and receive back again with amazing power to reach all who depend on me, fill them with goodness and still have more than what I started with. May I never hold back my gifts from You. May I believe that Your blessing multiplies my smallest gifts to maximum powers. May I rejoice that You return the task to me and I have the personal thrill of seeing many satisfied by my ministrations. I adore Your wisdom, Your power, Your sharing. Amen.’ – Father Gerald Keefe

I said this prayer out loud once, twice, and was filled with strength and peace. I may not be the most talented or most informed journalist, but God can still use me. And He has been using me, even in my first week of work. I haven’t been as harsh on myself as I tend to be because I know that the job will get easier as time goes on.

And my limited journalism experience hasn’t hindered me or made me lose credibility at work. As it turns out, many of my colleagues never took a journalism class either! They just saw an opportunity, worked hard, learned as much as they could, and got to where they are today.

In previous posts, I’ve talked about the idea that God did not give us our gifts to glorify ourselves, but rather to use them to spread the Good News. The Bible is filled with little people making a big difference, simply because they had faith that God would multiply their simple gifts for His glory. Even one of our greatest saints, Paul, knew that God chose the weak things of the world to conquer those which are mighty (1 Corinthians 1:28).

If you are feeling small and unworthy, remember that Jesus died on the Cross for the small and weak because He knew they were worth it. God gave you gifts. Use them.

A plus!

– Vicky

What is your go-to prayer or verse when you’re having a bad day? Let me know in the comments, and let’s give the Internet a dose of inspiration and love!

P.S. I haven’t been able to find any information on Father Keefe, who wrote the above prayer. If anyone knows a good resource, please share it in the comments. Thanks!

The Great Wall of Snark

Posted in Uncategorized by

It’s always a good week when you see an article on your Facebook news feed that sums up everything you’ve been thinking about that week, especially when you have a blog.

This week’s winning article is from Charlotte Lieberman, a recent graduate of Harvard, whose Carrie Bradshaw-esque article “Why is College Dating So Screwed Up?” has made its way from the Cosmopolitan website to every college girl’s Facebook wall.

Normally, I really hate Cosmo. My best friend and I spent a good part of our New Year’s Eve sleepover flipping through an issue, half laughing, half feeling like puking. But Lieberman’s article was an insightful surprise. En somme, she argues that the relationship problems that college students face are not caused by the so-called “hookup culture,” but rather by technology, sexual experimenting and what Lisa Wade, professor of sociology at Occidental College, calls the “whoever-cares-less-wins” dynamic.

I’m not qualified to talk about the first two causes, so I’ll focus on the last one: assuaging the fear of investing too much emotion and getting hurt by putting up walls of nonchalance.

My honors senior seminar class this semester has practically turned into biweekly group therapy. There are six students in the class, all female, and so our conversations can get pretty personal without fear. This week, our professor asked us to go around the circle and name one behavioral pattern we have noticed ourselves falling into. Mine falls directly under the “whoever-cares-less-wins” umbrella.

When I first try to make friends with a girl, I am very friendly, smiling, open and warm. Later on, as we start to become better friends, my alter ego that I like to call Snarky Vicky comes out. I’m sassy, but it’s all in good humor. When I try to make friends with a guy, it’s a completely different story. Snarky Vicky comes in full force, crushing every male ego in her path. Okay, not really. But I am not warm or open or caring or sensitive. Never. It’s only after I’ve known the guy for several months that I start to soften up, and for some guys, I never do.

And here’s the issue: I’m sick and tired of it.

I hate that I feel I have to put up this Great Wall of Snark to interact with guys, like Heaven forbid they take my attempts to be friendly as flirting! Lieberman recalls an experience where she met a guy at a party who said he’d text her to hang out the next night. He never did, and he avoided her the next day in class. When they met up again a month later, he said that he thought she was cool, but didn’t want to date her. In Lieberman’s words, who had ever said anything about dating?! I feel her frustration: when did the line between friendliness and flirtation become so blurred? If contemporary feminism promotes equality between the sexes, why do we still see guys as “males” before we see them as “human beings?”

I know several intelligent, funny and interesting guys whom I would love to call friends, not boyfriends. But instead of pursuing a friendship, we’re stuck in a “snarkship,” where our conversations contain more witty rejoinders than substance. I’m not saying that clever bantering isn’t a healthy part of a relationship, but there needs to be a balance between jokes and sincerity. You need to know that the other person will be there for you if you have a problem. I don’t feel like I could have a serious, intelligent, meaningful conversation with any of the guys I’m in a “snarkship” with, and that saddens me. There are few things I love more than a really good conversation.

So this is an open letter to any guy I’m currently in a “snarkship” with (you know who you are): I think you’re awesome. I admire you. I would like to get to know you better. I don’t want a relationship, just a friendship. I want you to feel like you can trust me, and that I can trust you. If I’m nice to you, if I ask you how your day is going, if I ask you a thought-provoking question, it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m flirting with you. I just want to talk. And if you do too, let’s be friends.

A bientôt!

– Vicky

Are you currently in a “snarkship”? Do you have any other thoughts on Lieberman’s article? Share them in the comments!

15 Situations Made Less Awkward by Contra Dance

Posted in Uncategorized by

Last Saturday night was the first contra dance of the semester at the big university in town. For me and my friends, this is the best night of the month. Since a friend who plays fiddle in a contra band introduced a group of us to the swirling, toe-tapping world of contra dance last semester, we’ve become addicted.  

Contra dance is a New England variation of 17th century English country dance. (Think Jane Austen attending a party thrown by Laura Ingalls Wilder.) The name, as I found out comes from the French, contre danse. Happy Francophile is happy. I and my friends join 60 or so local residents — no formal partner required, because everyone changes partners for every dance — and step, swing and sway according to the caller’s directions.

I’ve been trying to write about contra for a while, but of course I couldn’t do it to my satisfaction without a pinch of snark. So, here I bring you 15 normally awkward situations rendered slightly less mal à droite by contra dancing. Notice how I say “slightly.”

1. Stepping on your partner’s toes. Contra moves fast. Ain’t nobody got time for excuses for your two left feet. Quickly apologize and move on.

2. Someone stepping on your toes. Don’t wear sandals. Don’t do it.

3. Sweat. By the end of the first dance, contra dance halls get as warm and moist as a greenhouse. You will be touching a lot of sweaty backs. Get used to it.

4. Asking a guy to dance. There’s usually a shortage of partners, so grab ’em while you can.

5. Asking another girl to dance. It’s not weird. Seriously.

6. Dancing with someone other than your SO. Everyone changes partners. Don’t be stingy. And even in the course of the dance, you end up dancing with several different partners, or “neighbors.”

On a side note, my ex-boyfriend told me that seeing me dance with other guys made him jealous in a “Save the Last Dance for Me” kind of way. He was dating a pretty girl that guys wanted to dance with, but he would always scoop me up for the closing waltz. (We didn’t break up because of contra, I swear!)

7. Dancing with someone twice your age. Contra dances attract a lot of locals. People under 30 make up a small percent of the population, even in a college town.

8. Dancing with someone old enough to be your grandfather. See above.

9. Holding hands with a stranger. You have to hold hands with your partner or else you will go spinning into the wall. Between a broken nose and clasping someone else’s sweaty palm, I’d choose the latter.

10. Staring into someone’s eyes for a whole minute. Eye contact is crucial for “swinging,” or spinning in a circle with your partner, especially for those prone to motion sickness.

11. Small talk. Normally, I hate small talk, but it’s even more awkward if you dance with someone without getting at least their name.

12. Dancing with someone in whom you have no romantic interest. These dances may have been designed as a form of courtship, or Elizabeth-and-Darcy-style snark-fests, but asking someone to dance does not mean you like them, nor does being asked to dance mean someone likes you.

13. Dancing with someone who you do find attractive. You can always play the it’s-a-contra-dance-and-my-dancing-with-you-is-totally-arbitrary-except-not-really card.

14. Not having any idea how to dance. There is someone there whose sole job is to tell you what to do, i.e. the caller.

15. Showing that you’re having a good time. People appreciate smiling. And laughing. You’re not a robot. Relax. Have fun.

À la prochaine!

– Vicky

An Audience of One

Posted in Uncategorized by

I’ve been singing my entire life, and have performed for several crowded auditoriums. But I’m not good at it.

On paper, I seem all right: middle school advanced chorus, high school chamber choir, a solo or two in the spring musical, etc. However, during those years, it seemed to me, and my teachers seemed to share this opinion, that these honors were mostly due to my overachieving and goody-two-shoes tendencies. I was far from the best singer. I had never had a private lesson, though I gleaned a thing or two from public school music education. I had no control over my voice. I couldn’t harmonize. I didn’t read music well. My attempts to sight-read new music in class were often met with glares and eye-rolls from girls with more perfect pitch. The icing on the discouragement cake was when, at a musical rehearsal, a so-called best friend pointed me out to a new student saying, “That’s Vicky. She can’t sing.”

After I left high school, I gave up on the idea of singing by myself in public. But I would always sing loudly in church. Many people I talk to find Catholic hymns to be mind-numbingly dull, but I disagree. With a sound music ministry, music is the most powerful part of any Mass. I feel closest to God when I sing. I hardly ever pray after Communion; I have to sing. People would notice, and some told me my voice was nice, but I was safe and comfortable being one of the congregation.

However, Sunday night Mass showed me that even voice lessons could not correct the one thing that held me back: my audience. Whenever I sang in the past, I sought approval from every single person in a 200-seat auditorium, when I had only to please an audience of One.

It was the first Mass of the semester, and my roommate, one of our music ministers, had a problem. She had three violists and herself on piano, but she had no guarantee that any singers would show up. I stupidly offered my services as a last resort. I say “stupidly” because I assumed I would just be part of the chorus as I was used to doing. I panicked when she told me I’d be singing the Alleluia. I knew what would happen: My nerves would attack my vocal cords as soon as I opened my mouth, and I’d either squeak or over-sing my way through the entire thing.

I escaped into the bathroom before Mass and intended to pray for some control over my errant nerves. But what came out of my mouth was, “God, please help me to realize that this is not about me. It’s all about praising You.”

I decided then that I was going to pretend that Jesus was the only person who could hear me sing. So after the second reading, I took my place by the piano and fixed my eyes on the furthest point up the aisle. I couldn’t see Jesus, but I knew He was there. I took a deep breath as the congregation rose. I opened my mouth. The notes flowed from my lips: rich, full, expressive, everything I had hoped my voice would be if I had more talent or training or both. It didn’t matter whether or not my voice was pleasing to everyone there; I felt my Heavenly Father smiling on his little daughter.

The Gospel reading from St. John struck a chord with me that day. John the Baptist says, upon seeing Jesus come to him, “I myself did not know Him; but for this I came baptizing with water, that He might be revealed to Israel.” (John 1:31)

John the Baptist was a popular fellow. People thought he was the Messiah. But he always pointed the glory back to God. It was not for his own glory, but God’s glory, that he went out and preached and baptized.

God did not give us our gifts and talents so we can hide them away, like the servant in Matthew, Ch. 25 who buried his master’s talent (the coin) in the ground, nor so we can use them on ourselves. He gave them to us so that we can use them for His glory.

God gave you gifts. Use them.

(And yes, I will be singing this Sunday at Mass.)

A plus!

Vicky

A Postcard from … Freeport, Maine

Posted in Uncategorized by

Bonne année, mes amis! Happy New Year, friends! The semester and the holiday madness are over, so now I get to give you guys some updates!

I spent last weekend in Freeport, Maine for a family reunion. This is the third year (not in a row!) that my dad’s family has had its Christmas shindig in Maine. My uncle, who lives there, has rented the same house on the bay every year, although this year, we had to rent two houses because there were almost 30 of us! Yep, it’s a party.

The Basics: Freeport is located on Casco Bay and is nicknamed “The Birthplace of Maine.” Today, it’s best known for its outlet shopping, which may make travel snobs groan, but many of the stores are housed in historical buildings, such as the Abercrombie and Fitch outlet that lives in the former public library. (I’m not thrilled about it either, but at least they preserved a historical site and Freeport still has a community library.) In 1912, Leon Leonwood Bean opened his first store in Freeport Corner, one of the four original villages that developed into the town. The L.L. Bean flagship store and corporate headquarters are still located in Freeport. If you’re like my dad and hours of shopping make you cringe, the town is also home to Wolfe’s Neck Woods State Park, which offers the most beautiful sunrise ever over Casco Bay.

Vicky’s Itinerary: I didn’t get to do too much tourism as I was, you know, doing family stuff. However, I will share with you a few highlights, starting with waking up at 6:30 a.m. on Friday with my grandma to catch the sunrise.

Image

This is the view from the first-floor dining room in the second, smaller house I was staying in. You can’t argue with this!

Image

The backyard of the main(e) house. Ha ha. Puns.

Image

I caught the sunset later from the other house. Gorgeous, right?

And after a day or two of Christmas presents and pierogis — in case you can’t tell, it’s my Polish side — my immediate family hit Main Street for some shopping!

Image

A view of the L. L. Bean flagship store from Linda Bean’s Maine Kitchen and Topside Tavern, founded by Leon’s granddaughter. The store has a gigantic sculpture of the famous Maine Hunting Shoe (aka the Bean Boot, not pictured.) I got my first pair of brown Bean Boots on my first trip to Freeport in 2010.

And of course, you can’t leave Maine without a nice hot bowl of …

Image

… CHOWDA! This bowl I had at Linda Bean’s, but there are several clam chowder and lobster places lined along Main Street. In the great debate of chowda, I am so Team New England. Sorry, Manhattan.

Hidden Treasure: Need a shopping pick-me-up? WALK PAST THE STARBUCKS. WALK PAST IT. Continue down Main Street in the opposite direction of L.L. Bean, and about 800 feet away, you’ll see a sign shaped like a donut. It’s Frosty’s Donuts, which has made hand-cut donuts since 1965. My favorite is the maple cream donut. Mmmmm.

Stay tuned for more Postcards From … as I travel in 2014!

A plus tard!

Vicky