Paths of Mercy: Prison Ministry

There were a lot of cool things I could have been doing the afternoon of Halloween -- My friends had invited me out to lunch;I had a French paper due later that afternoon . But, instead I was in a car heading toward the South Bend Juvenile Justice Center.

The Celebration Choir had decided to perform at the center that afternoon. Our choir had packed up all our instruments into vans. We got there early to rehearse. We worried about who was going to pass the microphone to whom. We got excited to sing our favorite songs. Apart from the metal detector we had to walk through on our way in, it was a concert just like any other. Afterward, we broke up into small groups and spent time talking to the kids. We talked about our favorite things to study in school, our favorite foods, our favorite styles of dance. It was the same kind of thing I talk about with the students I teach.

Because yeah, they might be in the juvenile justice system, but they are kids. They are humans. They deserve to listen to beautiful music. They deserve to spend a rainy afternoon discussing everyone’s favorite Chipotle order. They deserve love and dignity, just like everyone else.

At my mom’s work there is a beautiful mosaic of the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy. I would look at them as a kid, checking them off in my head. “I volunteer at soup kitchens. I teach Sunday school. I’m doing all of these.” And then I’d get to “Visit the Imprisoned” and think “Well I can’t do that one.” I completely wrote it off, thinking there was no way I could do that act of mercy. I didn’t know anyone in prison. I didn’t know how to visit a prison. I had watched a documentary about prison in my high school sociology class and it looked pretty scary. I just couldn’t do that one.

I got to college and began to see things a little differently. In my classes I learned more about the problems in our prison system. About the way a system that should be based on justice, was being driven by quotas and laws that were laced with racism. I began to see narratives appearing on TV that paired stories and voices to the prison experience. I began to realize that while prison was a system, it was made up of very real people. These were people who needed love, affirmation of dignity, in the same way senior citizens or preschoolers do.

We are called to serve everyone, not just those who are easy to love, not just those who are comfortable to love. Today marks the beginning of the Year of Mercy for the church. It is a year about “opening the door” and inviting people back in. But in many ways, the doors that need to be opened are the doors in  our hearts. God shows us endless, radiant mercy, but we need to share that mercy with others. We need to reach out and serve everyone. Of course, we can serve those who are easy to love, but it is also an opportunity to reach out to those in society who are unloved and nearly forgotten, too.

Notre Dame has made it easy to explore prison ministry if that is something you are interested in doing. The Reading for Life Program lets ND students serve as leaders for book discussions at the Juvenile Justice Center. Dismas House serves those returning from incarceration. There are even more organizations on the CSC website. There are also “inside-out” classes where you get to take classes at the Westville Correctional Center alongside prisoners. We are surrounded by opportunities to go out and show mercy to others. Let this Year of Mercy be the push you need to go do it.

As I left the juvenile correction facility that day, I felt humbled. I felt honored to have served these kids whose lives were harder than mine, who would deal with struggles I would never know. I was grateful t they opened their hearts to us. Because if we can touch someone’s heart through music, through books, through conversation, whatever it may be,we can help them open up to love for themselves, for others, and in the end, for God.

All About Pep

“Love’s a journey of a lifetime and where you finish isn’t where you start,” – Sing for the Wind, Roo Panes

When I was nine, I got my first bra. And so did my Grandpa (well to be honest, it probably wasn’t his first). In the next year or two, my Grandpa would become my Grandma. It might sound weird or uncomfortable, but it’s not. It’s real. In fact, this experience is the greatest lesson in love me and my family have ever known. Let me tell you all about Pep.

As a two year old, I gave weird names to everyone in my family. My grandma was called Dee. My aunt was Juju. My grandpa was Pep. My grandparents were the most wonderful people. They were (and still are) two of my greatest role models in faith. They were both professors at a local university. Dee taught religion and ran a retreat house with my mom on the side. Pep taught broadcasting and was published author, an expert on trains. They did normal grandparent things- take family vacations, bake in the kitchen, go to my dance recitals, and have Wednesday morning waffle brunch with me and my mom.

It changed when I was eight, in the way it always seems to, not with a single change but with a whole spiraling spew of them that threaten to undo everything you know as your life. For Christmas that year, all the women in the family went to Chicago for a girls weekend to get my Christmas present- my first American Girl doll. It was only after being there for a day when Dee felt as if something was wrong and we rushed back home. She was soon diagnosed with brain cancer. And so began several hard months of visiting the hospital every day. My Aunt Juju got married that summer and my grandma was in attendance, dying a few days later.

The next year, Pep began making the transition from male to female.

I would love to say that my family reacted entirely positively right away- that we were some sort of paragon of love and acceptance. But that wouldn’t be honest. I remember being nine and coming home from school to see my mom crying. I never saw my mom cry. I remember her asking me, “Megan, what do you do when someone you love is doing something you don’t want them to do?” It was then she explained to me Pep’s transition. I felt instantly older (and it wasn’t just because of my new bra) as she told me about her hurt in losing her mother, in her fear of now losing her father. Later, now, as I talk to my mom about this moment and we look back, she tells me, “Love is messy.” Especially in the beginning, especially when surrounded by change that scared us, especially when we mistook our lack of understanding for hurt.

But in the end, this was not our hurt to bear. Pep had spent a lifetime in a body she didn’t belong. Pep had carried burdens we could only begin to understand. No one chooses to go through painful surgeries, through ridicule, through difficult transitions if they don’t have to. No one chooses to be transgendered. Who are we to be hurt when Pep lived in pain for so long? 

So instead of turning to judgment, our family worked to understand. My parents read memoirs and watched Oprah specials from people who went through the transition themselves. While I was more of an observer than a participant in this process, my mom always worked to help me understand what Pep was going through and how the transition would help Pep finally feel like her authentic, true self. We used to joke that there was no children’s’ book for “So Your Grandparent is Transgendered.” Love is never about judgment or scorn. Love is always about finding compassion for those who are dear to us, those who carry burdens we can only begin to imagine.

Love is also about being brave. Perhaps this was the hardest part for me. Because I was nine and words like “transgendered” and “sex change” were the sort of terms my friends found in their health class textbooks and gawked at. I had no clue how to communicate this experience to my friends. I had no clue how to stand up for Pep. My mom’s strength and bravery was my example. I remember one day my best friend was in the car with me on our way to ballet class (we must have been ten at the time) and she made a remark that she had just found out about transgendered people and was shocked that they existed. I was mortified; terrified my friends would find out and gawk at me and my family too. But instead, my mom gracefully explained to my friend the struggle that transgendered people face. The way she stood up for her family and educated over shying away from the topic. It would be years until I worked up the courage to educate my friends about Pep and her struggle, but it was never met with hostility, but rather understanding from each of my friends. In a similar way, Pep worked to advocate for young people who were struggling with their transgendered identity. She spoke to support groups and even spoke with people’s families if they struggled with accepting their transgendered kids.

Pep died my junior year of high school. She was remembered as a distinguished professor, a world traveler, a renowned train historian who had started a museum, an extraordinary writer, and a loving parent and grandparent. All my friends attended, no one afraid to comfort and mourn.  There was no one there who was gawking, or giggling, or judging. It was a celebration of an accomplished life well lived.

We are all on journeys of love and understanding for those around us. God constantly asks us to be our most loving selves. It breaks my heart when I read news articles about families who, under a pretense of being Christian, kick their kids out of the house because they are gay or transgendered- because there is nothing less God-like, less loving. Christ-like love comes from accepting every part of a person, from loving all that they are in the most genuine way. Love is never exclusive, it is something that is always expanding, embracing, and connecting us together. God is love and is always calling us to this.

I feel privileged that I was so lucky to have my beautiful, brave family to teach me love and acceptance at a young age. I feel honored to have had such strong role models of Christ-like love. I am grateful for my journeys in love and I pray for the ones you may take, too.

Practices in Gratitude

A few weeks back, I wrote about my decision to change my inner negativity and to finally see myself with the same love in which God sees me. I realized changing my inner voice was a powerful first step, but that if I really wanted to get on top of my stress and negativity, I needed to do more.

The first step was going to the doctor to finally figure out why I was so tired all the time. Turns out I am anemic. The good news is with the help of some little iron pills, I will no longer be on what I called “Team Sleep.” Less fatigue means more energy for schoolwork, but that doesn’t take away the stress or the poor way I was dealing with it. So I decided to enroll in the Koru course offered at the McDonald Center for Student Well Being.

The course covers mindfulness and meditation directed for stressed college students. We meet once a week to learn new types of meditation, stress management, and how to develop better habits in these areas. We are given “homework” to practice meditation daily. It’s amazing to see how my mindset changed when I let my brain take a breather. In addition, our homework challenged us to also cultivate habits of gratitude.

Every day we were asked to write down three things we were grateful for. At first it was tricky- “Okay, I’m thankful for coffee… and uh my friends… and maybe SkinnyPop?” But within days of writing down my gratitude and becoming aware of it, my eyes began to open to how everything is a gift. I was gracious for the feeling of a grand jeté during ballet rehearsal, for the excitement of Sunday night skype calls with my sister, and for taco Mondays with my friends. Being intentionally grateful changes how you see your day. Instead of focusing on the negative, you focus on the positive blessings you see each day. In each unfolding of your life, you are challenged to relish in what makes it beautiful.

This concept is even more powerful to us as Catholics. Our lives are shaped by God. Our blessings are given to us by God. In this way, all our gratitude is for God. In taking time to cultivate gratitude, we are taking time to praise God in thanksgiving. In taking time to notice the gifts all around us, we are taking time to notice the way God is all around us. Gratitude gives us the daily opportunity to rediscover the awe we have for God. A God who knows how to brighten our evening with a beautiful sunset, stimulate our afternoon with a rich over lunch, or calm a late-night study session with the peace of a warm cup of tea. In the end, each piece of gratitude is gratitude for God.

So how do we cultivate these attitudes of gratitude? How do we live lives of thanksgiving? It is all about creating habits that challenge you to remain grateful daily. Ready? Here are some ideas:

·      Write, write, write. Get a pretty notebook. Get a really nice pen. Write a huge list, add to it daily. Don’t stress about what you write down. Some days you might have tons of things, some days you might have just a few. Wherever you are is where you are meant to be.

·      Make a playlist that reminds you what it means to be grateful. Don’t have time? Listen my own gratitude playlist (link)! Put it on as you walk to class or dinner, or as you drink some Earl Grey and close your eyes- use this time to think about what you are grateful for today.

·      Make a gratitude collage. A few weeks ago I wrote about my own, which is definitely an awesome option if you have a free wall. You can also make a quick collage at Polyvore (link). It doesn’t take long to make, but it can help center you on what you are grateful for right now.

·      Give back to those you are grateful for. Random acts of kindness are perfect ways to give to strangers and I highly encourage it. But also don’t forget to honor those who make your life better with simple acts of gratitude. This (link) article has great examples.

·      Read poetry on gratitude. As an English major, I love finding inspiration in literature. Reading poetry about gratitude helps slow mybody down and requires me to focus on what I am reading and what it means. Try Ode to Thanks (link) by Pablo Neruda, Slant (link) by Suji Kwock Kim, or An honest Tear (link) by Emily Dickenson. Need more? Check out this list (link).

·      Get the app. Do you have trouble remembering to do things without your phone to remind you? I totally get it. Luckily, there are apps to help you cultivate gratitude. This (like) awesome app even lets you upload pictures of things that made you gracious each day and records it in a calendar.

·      Take part in gratitude meditation. Spend time praying and reflecting on the things you are grateful for. You can do this in adoration, or you can do this in the silence of your dorm room. You can even use a guided meditation, such as this one (link), to find God’s light within your thanksgiving.

The most important part of developing the habit is acceptance. If you miss a day or only have a small entry- that’s okay. Don’t let gratitude become part of the stress or negativity in your life. Let it be the release.

It will be easy to think about gratitude this week, when it’s Thanksgiving and all around us people are asking, “What are you thankful for?” But the true benefits of gratitude come when it goes beyond a single day and becomes part of your lifestyle. Starting here and now, decide to live a life of gratitude.

Pray for Paris

I’m not sure how it can feel simultaneously like it was years ago and just days between last semester and now. Studying in Paris was a life-changing experience. There were those dreamy moments everyone thinks of when they think of Paris- brunch in Montmartre with warm bread and bowls of hot chocolate, afternoons getting lost in the Louvre, buying Laudrée macarons on the Champs Elysée, and picnics in as many parks as possible. There were the unexpected moments of joy and garnered confidence- starring in a student film project, teaching weekly English classes to a ragtag group of preschoolers, and practicing yoga to find my inner peace in a chaotic city. It wasn’t always an easy city to live in. There were moments that challenged me every day. But in the end, I carved out a little bit of home for myself in Paris and Paris carved itself into a little bit of my heart.

It is easy to flit back over my memories and remember only the moments of confidence, maturity, and peace. But those memories would undermine the very serious emotions I felt my first weekend in Paris. I arrived in Paris for my semester abroad the very same week of the Charlie Hebdo attacks. As a person who is already particularly anxious, that week was terrifying and upsetting for me. I spent a long time processing the experience and eventually wrote about it in a blog post last January.

But that blog didn’t talk about what came after. It didn’t cover the way that for months I would wake up in the middle of the night at the slightest noise, unable to fall back to sleep, wondering if everything was safe. I would hear noises from outside in the hallway during classes and feel shivers of panic. I was always on edge, never feeling safe. Terror is not a single moment, but a nightmare, a scar. It may fade over time, but you’re never the same.

On Friday, as I sat in my dorm room at Notre Dame, I switched between CNN and TVMonde5 as I watched unimaginable horror cover my screen. My thoughts went to my friends in Paris. Were they safe? Were they okay? The attacks had taken place in the 10^th and 11^th arrondisments, areas full of hang out spots for young people. During my semester abroad, I had spent many evenings out with my friends in this area. One of the restaurants attacked was a block away from one of my favorite bars. I had walked down those streets. Who was to say it wouldn’t have been me there? My friends in France expressed the feeling that nothing was safe, no one knew where the next attack would be. I remembered the horror I went through last January and I knew this would be monumentally worse.

I made Facebook statuses, snap chat stories, tweets and tumblr posts reading, “Pray for Paris.” Everywhere around me, my friends- in America, in France, and everywhere in between- made statuses echoing the same sentiments, “Pray for Paris.” But I wasn’t sure how. How do I pray for a city so dear to me that has been so marred? How do I find God, or even begin to speak to God, amidst this tragedy?

I went to mass on Saturday. The priest spoke of the attacks, of the way it was a sign of the brokenness of our world, of the way it reminded us to never take a day of our life for granted. The world did feel broken. It felt like there was pain everywhere- not just in Paris- but in Beirut and in Baghdad where bombings took place, in Japan and Mexico where earthquakes rattled, and in our own Notre Dame community, where even amidst the safety and certainty we feel here, death managed to touch us. How do we begin to pray when we feel so broken?

I went to the prayer service for Paris at the grotto on Saturday night, my mind wheeling. I felt bad,as if not finding the words to pray meant I was failure. Paris had given me so much. Paris had changed my life. And now my city was hurt and I had nothing to give back. It was a city, not a person, after all. I couldn’t bake it cookies or hold it’s hand. I could only pray. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t find the words, the peace, to articulate all I wanted for my precious city.

So I started with the people. As we made our way through the rosary, I dedicated one bead to a different person in Paris. Beads for my friends from the student film. Beads for my favorite yoga instructors. Beads for my treasured preschoolers. Beads for the lady who ran the bakery by my dorm who laughed as I struggled for the right change. Beads for the friends who sat beside me in class. Beads for the smiling cashier at the Monoprix by our university. Beads for each person who touched my life in Paris. When the rosary was over, I still had people to list, so I knelt and continued to pray- my words and thoughts finally coming out. Maybe I didn’t have the words to pray for a whole city, but I would pray for the people who made the city real for me. And in finding those words, I began to touch the ones written deeply in my heart, in our faith- for a love that is greater than all of us, a love that heals in the deepest places.

Weeks will pass and we will change our current profile pictures from photos adorned with French flags to our usual dome pictures. We will slowly stop thinking of Paris as a place where horrors happened and remember the sound of the accordion player on the street, the view from the metro line 6 where it crosses the Seine, and the taste of a still warm pain au chocolat. But even then, let’s not stop finding these words to pray. Let’s not stop praying for those who wake up in the middle of the night, never feeling safe again. Let’s not stop praying for those who always carry scars, physical or emotional, from Friday’s events. Let’s not stop praying for those whose hearts will always miss a loved one who will never come back. Let’s not stop praying. Not now, not ever.

Creating Sacred Space

I kinda hate Pinterest. While a ton of my friends love it, I avoid it like the plague. I figure  I have enough on my plate without worrying about how many recipes I’m not cooking, how unorganized I am, or how I haven’t even started planning my dream wedding. I do, however,  have a single secret Pinterest weakness- dorm room decorations. The start of every year brings me the joyful flurry of diving into fun DIYs  I want to add to my room. Maybe, it’s my inner teacher, but I look forward to figuring out how I want to redo my room each year.

After all, our rooms are our most personal place on campus. It’s the place you spend most of your time. You sleep there. You entertain friends there. You study and procrastinate there. It’s so important to make sure  you live in a space where you feel comfortable and can be yourself. Your dorm room is one of the most important places you can express yourself. Having your favorite colors, posters, pictures, and knickknacks is what defines your space as yours and shares what you care about with others who visit.

As people of faith, one of the most important things to express in your room is your faith life. Adding elements to your room can help you share[K1]  and grow in new ways.

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Quotes

One of my favorite parts of my room are my quote canvases. I spent a few days at the end of summer working on them with my sister, trying to figure out the perfect quotes to fit the canvas, what colors to use, what designs to include, and so on. I tried to pick quotes that inspired me to be the most loving person possible (obviously picked from songs from my “Live in the Light Playlist”). They serve as a constant reminder to love selflessly and to love in a sincere and caring way.

Quote canvases are easy and inexpensive to make- all you need is canvas and paints and a free afternoon. I discovered in making them that it was a very therapeutic and peaceful activity. While making full paintings can be pretty time consuming, I found an easy way to continue doing this was to start decorating notecards with quotes. Whenever I hear a line from a song that inspires me to be a more loving, peaceful, or positive person, I write it down on a notecard with some decorations. I started using them to decorate my walls, but now I’ve moved on to let them decorate my walls. Being surrounded by these quotes help challenge me to be my most loving self. And they are even easier to make than canvases- just grab a pen and a stack of note cards and go for it.

Collages

While I was abroad, I was on a tight budget. But, I couldn’t stand my plain and boring room in Paris, so I devoted a wall to telling my story through free things I acquired in my travels. I covered it in maps, ticket stubs, brochures, and programs. It was one of my favorite parts of my room (other than the Eiffel Tower view) and it was a great way to share my story with everyone who stopped by. But, in the end, it was an exercise in gratitude. As I worked on my collage, I got to step back and look at the amazing gifts God had given me in my travels. I had so many marvelous experiences, dream after dream coming true, that looking at it gave me a chance to relive those moments and renew the gratitude to I had for God who had led me on this path.

It’s in this way I encourage you to make gratitude collages. Pick a corner of your wall, or maybe use one of the bulletin boards that come with your modular furniture, and dedicate it to your collage. You can fill it with anything you are grateful for, anything that reminds you of the wonderful gifts God has given you. Pictures of your family and friends, favorite places you’ve traveled, pictures you’ve taken of sunsets or flowers, activities or hobbies - anything to remind you of the gifts God has given you. In moments of uncertainty, when we find ourselves focused on everything we don’t have, return to this collage and reflect on the graciousness of God.

Prayer Corner

When I was younger, my mom helped me make a prayer corner for my room. We marked the space with a white dollie and on top of it put a small statue of Mary, prayer cards, my rosary, and religious pictures. Making a prayer corner is your room is a way of giving yourself a literal place to turn to for solace. Whether you need a place to pray before sleeping, a study break with God, or a breather between classes- your prayer corner is your go to.

The best part is you can craft it to fit your prayer life. Are you inspired by icons or holy images? Add those. More of a journaling type? Use it as a place to keep your journal. Add an (electric) candle. Make a prayer jar to store intentions. This is a place for you to reflect and grow, so it’s up to you to use.

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Spaces are important, especially, your dorm room, a room you inhabit all the time. Living a faith filled life mean integrating your faith into your lifestyle. It means making time and taking time to pray in your daily life. Your room can be the place where that lifestyle begins. So take some time this week to dig out some supplies and make room for some sacred space.