"When I think of home, I think of a place where there's love overflowing.
I wish I was home, I wish I was back there with the things I've been knowing..."
I've said it before and I'll say it again; Africa feels like home to me. I miss it so SO much; it is killing me that I am not there right now. If someone offered me a one-way ticket to Ghana today, I would take it.
I have been home for about two and a half months now. That must be how long it takes for me to register homesickness, cuz I'm really feelin' it now.
Here is what I miss most:
- the simple, unshakable faith of the people there
- the smiles
- the children (oh, my heart!!!)
- the drums and the dancing
- my mission team
Here is what I still don't miss:
- rice and red sauce
- latrines
- exhaust fumes
What I wouldn't give for the chance to go back to Dafor and visit the little school they have there, to hear the kids yell "Sistah Jen!" as they pull on my arms and clothes. How I would love to hoist a headpan of cement onto my headcloth and work to finish that church! What a joy it would be to to hear another of Fada's homilies, so penetrating and life-giving because of their deep simplicity! How I miss those old ladies who tried to teach us Ewe and laughed at us every morning after Mass, those Mamas who were quite obviously the backbones of the village community, and those workmen who spoke to us in squeaky voices. Hahaha and the finger snapping handshakes... I miss those.
I must go back to Africa. I don't know when or how, but I must. I have already been away from home for too long.
Showing posts with label Africa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Africa. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Africa: My Return
Well, I've been back at home for a little over a week now. I've been trying to think of something meaningful to say about returning to the US of A, but nothing has come to mind. I loved my time in Ghana and I'm sure it's changed me in many ways. I just haven't seen the effects of those changes yet.
Here are the things that I miss the most about Ghana:
- the drums and the dancing at Mass
- the good hearts of the people of Dafor
- Fada's homilies
- the music playing almost constantly
- the children flocking around
- the beauty of the landscape
- the animals, esp. the cute baby ones
- carrying stuff on my head
- the outdoor showers
- the foam mattresses
- not being self-conscious about the way I look (or smell hahaha)
- laughing through meals with the mission team
- the mission team in general
And now, before I get too depressed about being back in the States, here are a few things that I really missed about this place:
- my makeup, clothes, and shoes, esp. the heels
- the food, esp. the variety and quantity of food
- my family, talking to my sisters about everything
- singing as much as I want to
- personal independence in general
- air conditioning
- good hospitals
I hope I get to go back. I don't know when or how, but I know that I want to go back. Ghana felt like home to me, and I don't think I'll ever be perfectly happy in the US or Ghana ever again, now that pieces of my heart are in both places.
Here are the things that I miss the most about Ghana:
- the drums and the dancing at Mass
- the good hearts of the people of Dafor
- Fada's homilies
- the music playing almost constantly
- the children flocking around
- the beauty of the landscape
- the animals, esp. the cute baby ones
- carrying stuff on my head
- the outdoor showers
- the foam mattresses
- not being self-conscious about the way I look (or smell hahaha)
- laughing through meals with the mission team
- the mission team in general
And now, before I get too depressed about being back in the States, here are a few things that I really missed about this place:
- my makeup, clothes, and shoes, esp. the heels
- the food, esp. the variety and quantity of food
- my family, talking to my sisters about everything
- singing as much as I want to
- personal independence in general
- air conditioning
- good hospitals
I hope I get to go back. I don't know when or how, but I know that I want to go back. Ghana felt like home to me, and I don't think I'll ever be perfectly happy in the US or Ghana ever again, now that pieces of my heart are in both places.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Africa: Preach the Gospel Always...
This morning I said goodbye to the village that has been my home for the past two weeks. Mass was a glorious affair, with drumming and singing and dancing, even though it's obviously not a Sunday. I will never get over how beautiful He is in the Eucharist in the humble setting of the chapel there in Dafor. His glory shines all the brighter, His generosity and goodness all the more apparent for the crude surroundings He humbles Himself to visit. After Mass, Father gave a beautiful talk about the gratitude of the village and the impact our presence had made on them, and I cried. The women presented us with beads as going away presents, and I cried more. The children gathered around for a picture, and... I absolutely sobbed.
Father told us that one day, as he was driving, it occurred to him that there are twelve of us, just as there are twelve apostles. He said that we were just like them, spreading the Gospel to the people of Dafor, yes, occasionally with our words, but more often with our actions.
Not everyone in Dafor is Catholic, or even Christian. Many of the men who worked alongside us on the church floor were not. Our presence there was particularly baffling to them. We have everything they want; why would we give it all up and actually pay to come work for free in their tiny little village? How could we toil away at work to which we clearly were unaccustomed, day after day, always with smiles on our faces? Why would we willingly submit ourselves to manual labor, stirring cement with shovels and carrying sand in pans on our heads? The answer to these questions could be seen in the schedule we kept throughout our time in the village. Our lives revolved around prayer: daily Mass, daily Eucharistic Adoration, and praise and worship on some evenings. Our hunger for the Eucharist and the strength that it gave us to carry on served as a living example for all, a witness to His power and His love.
Yet how much more exemplary was the generosity and the spirituality of the villagers! They gave up so much for us to make us feel welcome. One of the village elders gave up his home so the men would have a place to sleep. Various parishioners were always bringing us bananas, pineapple, coconuts, or ground nuts (peanuts), and stopping by to greet us during meals and breaks. When several of us were sick, their concern was apparent at every meeting. The neighbors around the women's house constantly folded our laundry while we were gone for the day or filled up our water barrels. Our cook made two meals a day (breakfast was simple most days) for all twelve of us every day, and before we met the Bishop of the Ho Diocese, she made dresses for all seven of us girls in a mere 24 hours! Then, when the one girl had malaria, she stayed by her side for all five days of her hospital visit, buying food and cooking, leaving her 3-year-old daughter in her mother's care. And the entire time, she wore a beautiful smile. There are countless stories of these wonderful men and women giving of themselves completely. If only I could learn to imitate their generous spirit!
So perhaps we didn't get the chance to evangelize with words as some of us would have liked. Perhaps our contribution to the church structure was meager. Regardless of any disappointments or troubles we may have met along the way, both we and the villagers have benefited greatly from our time with them.
And God, I'm going to miss those kids.
Father told us that one day, as he was driving, it occurred to him that there are twelve of us, just as there are twelve apostles. He said that we were just like them, spreading the Gospel to the people of Dafor, yes, occasionally with our words, but more often with our actions.
Not everyone in Dafor is Catholic, or even Christian. Many of the men who worked alongside us on the church floor were not. Our presence there was particularly baffling to them. We have everything they want; why would we give it all up and actually pay to come work for free in their tiny little village? How could we toil away at work to which we clearly were unaccustomed, day after day, always with smiles on our faces? Why would we willingly submit ourselves to manual labor, stirring cement with shovels and carrying sand in pans on our heads? The answer to these questions could be seen in the schedule we kept throughout our time in the village. Our lives revolved around prayer: daily Mass, daily Eucharistic Adoration, and praise and worship on some evenings. Our hunger for the Eucharist and the strength that it gave us to carry on served as a living example for all, a witness to His power and His love.
Yet how much more exemplary was the generosity and the spirituality of the villagers! They gave up so much for us to make us feel welcome. One of the village elders gave up his home so the men would have a place to sleep. Various parishioners were always bringing us bananas, pineapple, coconuts, or ground nuts (peanuts), and stopping by to greet us during meals and breaks. When several of us were sick, their concern was apparent at every meeting. The neighbors around the women's house constantly folded our laundry while we were gone for the day or filled up our water barrels. Our cook made two meals a day (breakfast was simple most days) for all twelve of us every day, and before we met the Bishop of the Ho Diocese, she made dresses for all seven of us girls in a mere 24 hours! Then, when the one girl had malaria, she stayed by her side for all five days of her hospital visit, buying food and cooking, leaving her 3-year-old daughter in her mother's care. And the entire time, she wore a beautiful smile. There are countless stories of these wonderful men and women giving of themselves completely. If only I could learn to imitate their generous spirit!
So perhaps we didn't get the chance to evangelize with words as some of us would have liked. Perhaps our contribution to the church structure was meager. Regardless of any disappointments or troubles we may have met along the way, both we and the villagers have benefited greatly from our time with them.
And God, I'm going to miss those kids.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Africa: I Am Still Alive
We have just about reached the halfway point of our adventure here in Ghana. We're leaving Dafor on Wednesday the 28th, after which we'll be back in Accra with real beds and showers and more frequent access to the internet. We'll be working the the kids in the slums around the convent of the Missionaries of Charity for a few days and hopefully spending some time with the orphans and AIDS patients that they care for as well.
I had intended to write a longer post than this, but my hour in this internet cafe has slipped away so quickly! I can only say that I am quite well, though not everyone in our little group can say the same. One of the girls went to the hospital with malaria yesterday, and there are two other people significantly under the weather. Everything is ok now, but we are reaching a point when everyone is tired from working so hard every day. We're not used to having to drink so much during the day, because we don't realize how much we're sweating until we feel the symptoms of dehydration. Please don't worry; we are all ok, and those who need it have been resting. We're drinking more and eating lots of bananas and eggs to keep our energy up. We will all probably be much improved once we reach Accra, where our work is no longer manual labor, there is very low risk of malaria, the food is more substantial, and the accomidations much more comfortable.
The church is looking good; we finally started laying concrete the other day, so the loads we've been toting are much heavier and the men are completely worn out from mixing cement with shovels. We probably won't finish the floor, but the foundation we have laid is strong and ready for the next mission trip next summer. So far we have had to:
- dig trenches for the sleeper walls
- tote sand from various places about the village for concrete
- mix concrete
- fill said trenches with concrete
- make bricks
- lay bricks in trenches
- tote dirt
- fill the spaces created by sleeper walls with dirt
- tote water
- throw water on dirt
- tamp down dirt to make level surface
- mix concrete
- pour concrete onto dirt
And we are doing all this by hand. It is really insane. And it looks like we barely did anything.
Ok, one minute left. ciao ciao!
I had intended to write a longer post than this, but my hour in this internet cafe has slipped away so quickly! I can only say that I am quite well, though not everyone in our little group can say the same. One of the girls went to the hospital with malaria yesterday, and there are two other people significantly under the weather. Everything is ok now, but we are reaching a point when everyone is tired from working so hard every day. We're not used to having to drink so much during the day, because we don't realize how much we're sweating until we feel the symptoms of dehydration. Please don't worry; we are all ok, and those who need it have been resting. We're drinking more and eating lots of bananas and eggs to keep our energy up. We will all probably be much improved once we reach Accra, where our work is no longer manual labor, there is very low risk of malaria, the food is more substantial, and the accomidations much more comfortable.
The church is looking good; we finally started laying concrete the other day, so the loads we've been toting are much heavier and the men are completely worn out from mixing cement with shovels. We probably won't finish the floor, but the foundation we have laid is strong and ready for the next mission trip next summer. So far we have had to:
- dig trenches for the sleeper walls
- tote sand from various places about the village for concrete
- mix concrete
- fill said trenches with concrete
- make bricks
- lay bricks in trenches
- tote dirt
- fill the spaces created by sleeper walls with dirt
- tote water
- throw water on dirt
- tamp down dirt to make level surface
- mix concrete
- pour concrete onto dirt
And we are doing all this by hand. It is really insane. And it looks like we barely did anything.
Ok, one minute left. ciao ciao!
Friday, July 16, 2010
Africa: A Day in the Life
We have been in the little village of Dafor for about a week now, and our days have fallen into a rhythm of sorts.
5:40am - wake up (the sun and the villagers have already been up for a while by this time)
6:30am - Mass (if Father is in the village)
7:30am - breakfast of bread, ground nut paste (peanut butter), strawberry jam, honey, and tea
8:30am - holy hour, sometimes with the Eucharist exposed, sometimes without
9:30am - work on the church
12:30pm - lunch
2:00pm - various afternoon activities. could include more work, meeting to discuss the book we're reading together, laundry, naps, etc.
4:00pm - bucket showers: the best part of the day (except Mass, of course)
6:30pm - dinner (it gets dark around this time here)
7:30pm - praise and worship on tuesday, thursday, and saturday
9:30pm - bedtime
All of these times are approximate, because here there is a glorious thing called "Africa time," in which 8 o clock means "anytime in the 8 o clock hour." Also, people are late for everything and nobody cares. As long as you're there within the hour, it's ok. I've stopped looking at watches or clocks because everything is so fluid. The bell for Mass in the center of the square by the well rings twice for Mass. The first bell means "Father is here; there will be Mass." The second means "Mass is starting; you are late." I think that just about says it all.
My love for this place grows exponentially with each day. I don't even want to think about leaving. The people here are so friendly and joyful, and the children are so precious. They pronounce my name somewhere between "Gin" and "Jen" in their adorable Ewe accents (the language here is Ewe, pronounced EH-weh). Most of them can't speak a word of English, but smiles are pretty universal, and they certainly know how to do that. Also they waggle their eyebrows at us to say hello and repeat anything we say in English. My heart absolutely melts for them.
Well, there is much more I could say, but the connection in this internet cafe is horrendously slow, and my hour is almost up, so I must cut my ramblings short. Hope all is well in the States! I may be coming back to this cafe next week, so stay tuned.
5:40am - wake up (the sun and the villagers have already been up for a while by this time)
6:30am - Mass (if Father is in the village)
7:30am - breakfast of bread, ground nut paste (peanut butter), strawberry jam, honey, and tea
8:30am - holy hour, sometimes with the Eucharist exposed, sometimes without
9:30am - work on the church
12:30pm - lunch
2:00pm - various afternoon activities. could include more work, meeting to discuss the book we're reading together, laundry, naps, etc.
4:00pm - bucket showers: the best part of the day (except Mass, of course)
6:30pm - dinner (it gets dark around this time here)
7:30pm - praise and worship on tuesday, thursday, and saturday
9:30pm - bedtime
All of these times are approximate, because here there is a glorious thing called "Africa time," in which 8 o clock means "anytime in the 8 o clock hour." Also, people are late for everything and nobody cares. As long as you're there within the hour, it's ok. I've stopped looking at watches or clocks because everything is so fluid. The bell for Mass in the center of the square by the well rings twice for Mass. The first bell means "Father is here; there will be Mass." The second means "Mass is starting; you are late." I think that just about says it all.
My love for this place grows exponentially with each day. I don't even want to think about leaving. The people here are so friendly and joyful, and the children are so precious. They pronounce my name somewhere between "Gin" and "Jen" in their adorable Ewe accents (the language here is Ewe, pronounced EH-weh). Most of them can't speak a word of English, but smiles are pretty universal, and they certainly know how to do that. Also they waggle their eyebrows at us to say hello and repeat anything we say in English. My heart absolutely melts for them.
Well, there is much more I could say, but the connection in this internet cafe is horrendously slow, and my hour is almost up, so I must cut my ramblings short. Hope all is well in the States! I may be coming back to this cafe next week, so stay tuned.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Africa: Day Two
I am at the internet cafe again, but today the computer is running very slowly and the internet connection is poor, so I am struggling to check my email and write this and wait for things to load etc. all in the brief 30-minute time frame I have here.
This morning we explored the marketplace of Accra, which was quite a colorful, noisy, and fragrant experience. Some of the fragrances were good, others were... not so good. I would post pictures, but I don't think there's a spot on this computer to plug in an SD card.
Oh yes, I haven't told you: the leader of our group is letting me borrow his camera for the next month, since he has a video camera that also takes pictures. Very, very generous of him. So I popped my SD card in it last night and will take all my pictures home with me no problem. Praise God.
Anyway, about the market. We basically just walked through (with a guide, of course). There was loud, upbeat music playing around every corner; it was all I could do to keep from dancing through the streets!
Here are the rules of the road in Accra, as far as I can tell:
1. Don't hit anything.
2. The bigger your vehicle, the more right of way you have.
3. Stay to the right as much as possible. (This is negotiable.)
That's pretty much it. So as pedestrians, we have no rights to the road. And there are no sidewalks.
We passed through the Catholic school here, and it was as though we were in a parade! All the little kids ran to the windows and waved, smiling, until we waved back. They made quite a ruckus. I think their teachers must have hated us for the disruptions we caused in their classrooms. And the kids LOVE cameras. As soon as they see one, they run over to pose and push each other to get right to the front of the picture. Some of the younger ones have never seen white skin before, and they are absolutely captivated by us. It is really darling.
This afternoon we had the famous Ghanian dish fufu for lunch with a spicy chicken soup. No one hated it or got sick, so I think we're going to survive the next month. I personally found it quite good and very filling, which is a good quality for food to have where we're going.
Tomorrow morning we leave for the village on Lake Volta, so you probably won't hear from me again until I get back to Accra. And I have one minute left, so I really must be going.
Pray for me! :)
This morning we explored the marketplace of Accra, which was quite a colorful, noisy, and fragrant experience. Some of the fragrances were good, others were... not so good. I would post pictures, but I don't think there's a spot on this computer to plug in an SD card.
Oh yes, I haven't told you: the leader of our group is letting me borrow his camera for the next month, since he has a video camera that also takes pictures. Very, very generous of him. So I popped my SD card in it last night and will take all my pictures home with me no problem. Praise God.
Anyway, about the market. We basically just walked through (with a guide, of course). There was loud, upbeat music playing around every corner; it was all I could do to keep from dancing through the streets!
Here are the rules of the road in Accra, as far as I can tell:
1. Don't hit anything.
2. The bigger your vehicle, the more right of way you have.
3. Stay to the right as much as possible. (This is negotiable.)
That's pretty much it. So as pedestrians, we have no rights to the road. And there are no sidewalks.
We passed through the Catholic school here, and it was as though we were in a parade! All the little kids ran to the windows and waved, smiling, until we waved back. They made quite a ruckus. I think their teachers must have hated us for the disruptions we caused in their classrooms. And the kids LOVE cameras. As soon as they see one, they run over to pose and push each other to get right to the front of the picture. Some of the younger ones have never seen white skin before, and they are absolutely captivated by us. It is really darling.
This afternoon we had the famous Ghanian dish fufu for lunch with a spicy chicken soup. No one hated it or got sick, so I think we're going to survive the next month. I personally found it quite good and very filling, which is a good quality for food to have where we're going.
Tomorrow morning we leave for the village on Lake Volta, so you probably won't hear from me again until I get back to Accra. And I have one minute left, so I really must be going.
Pray for me! :)
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Africa: First Impressions
Hello from Ghana!!
I am pleased to announce that we made it here with no trouble; no one lost their baggage or got sick or got stopped at customs. I am surprised how much I love it here already. I can't really explain to you what happened in my heart when I stepped out of the airplane, but I feel like I am home. Praise God; He knew all along how well and how quickly I would find a place here, even when I had my doubts during preparation.
Things of Note:
- Although the weather is not much hotter now than the weather in Pittsburgh, there is no air conditioning. So I'm just getting used to being a little sweaty. No biggie. Everyone kind of is.
- The showers in the guesthouse are cool. Surprising at first, but quite refreshing once I got used to it.
- When I got out of the shower and put on clean clothes, they felt like they had just been fluffed in the dryer.
- I have not slept more than 5 or 6 hours in the past 48 hours, and all in little 1- and 2-hour pieces. The night before we left I could not sleep for nerves and excitement, and trying to sleep in the plane was like living purgatory on Earth. Very uncomfortable. The plane ride was a little over 10 hours long, and I only got up once. But I watched 2 1/2 movies. Yay for individual seat back televisions.
- When I got off the plane I pulled out my camera to take pictures of the airport. (I know, very touristy haha) My lens was jammed. I just paid $115 to repair the lens. So now I have no camera. I am not sure how I feel about this. On one hand, I would like to have some pictures, but on the other hand I hate taking them. So. I just keep saying "Jesus, I trust in You" over and over. And I may be looking for a cheap camera here in Accra.
- My first Ghanian meal was breakfast: 2 slices of white bread, each about 3/4 inches thick, toasted and cut diagonally, with butter, marmalade, and hot tea. That's all.
I will not pretend that I am not tempted to feel anxious about many things, especially after waking up disoriented from a nap this afternoon. But any fears I may have are calmed by the thought of going to Mass tonight after dinner. How I love the Eucharist! And He is the same everywhere.
I am pleased to announce that we made it here with no trouble; no one lost their baggage or got sick or got stopped at customs. I am surprised how much I love it here already. I can't really explain to you what happened in my heart when I stepped out of the airplane, but I feel like I am home. Praise God; He knew all along how well and how quickly I would find a place here, even when I had my doubts during preparation.
Things of Note:
- Although the weather is not much hotter now than the weather in Pittsburgh, there is no air conditioning. So I'm just getting used to being a little sweaty. No biggie. Everyone kind of is.
- The showers in the guesthouse are cool. Surprising at first, but quite refreshing once I got used to it.
- When I got out of the shower and put on clean clothes, they felt like they had just been fluffed in the dryer.
- I have not slept more than 5 or 6 hours in the past 48 hours, and all in little 1- and 2-hour pieces. The night before we left I could not sleep for nerves and excitement, and trying to sleep in the plane was like living purgatory on Earth. Very uncomfortable. The plane ride was a little over 10 hours long, and I only got up once. But I watched 2 1/2 movies. Yay for individual seat back televisions.
- When I got off the plane I pulled out my camera to take pictures of the airport. (I know, very touristy haha) My lens was jammed. I just paid $115 to repair the lens. So now I have no camera. I am not sure how I feel about this. On one hand, I would like to have some pictures, but on the other hand I hate taking them. So. I just keep saying "Jesus, I trust in You" over and over. And I may be looking for a cheap camera here in Accra.
- My first Ghanian meal was breakfast: 2 slices of white bread, each about 3/4 inches thick, toasted and cut diagonally, with butter, marmalade, and hot tea. That's all.
I will not pretend that I am not tempted to feel anxious about many things, especially after waking up disoriented from a nap this afternoon. But any fears I may have are calmed by the thought of going to Mass tonight after dinner. How I love the Eucharist! And He is the same everywhere.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Happy List
Lately, I've been noticing that a lot of things are making me smile and even laugh as I prepare to leave for Ghana. Here are a few:
- the Eucharist - I mean, seriously, what would a happy list be without the source of our happiness??
- the smell of tanning oil - mmmm, summer... and... banana popsicles?*
- trying on leather jackets in the store while my little sister reminds me again that I don't own a motorcycle
- the way my hair looks when it curls just right, like it did today (sigh, why am i soooo vaaaain...)
- headbands with flowers on them (i just bought a bunch! :D)
- getting packages in the mail (even if it's just boring stuff for Africa, like hand sanitizer)
- teaching my little sister how to walk in heels**
- dancing along to the radio while I pack
- hanging out in my bikini after sunbathing
- the pink lace that I use as a bookmark for my copy of "The Imitation of Christ"
- gold toenail polish
- getting to know St. Therese as I read Story of a Soul***
- looking up the weather forecast for Ghana, clicking on "10 day" and realizing that I'm going to be there during some of that weather!!! gah, it's so crazy. I can't even think about it or I might explode.
And now, since a few of these have touched on topics I've been meaning to write about for some time now, I will elaborate in these blogs within a blog:
* Adventures in Tanning
I have never laid in the sun for the sole purpose of getting tan before. It always just happened after a day at the pool or a week of camping or whatever. So when I started, I had a bit of a time figuring out what to do. I've been meaning to chronicle them here so that those of you who have never tanned but thought about it could learn from my mistakes and those of you who are experienced tanners could laugh at me.
The first day, I went outside and tried to lay on my back for half an hour without moving. I never realized what a fidgety person I am until I attempted this stunt. I barely made it through the half hour without jumping up and running around. Then I had to lay on my stomach for half an hour. Torture. And on top of that, I set up my towel right next to a giant ant hill, which explains the numerous ants crawling on me while I lay there. I'm not really creeped out by bugs, but it was super annoying. I said a rosary and a chaplet of Divine Mercy and offered everything up for the mission.
The next day, I managed to get my little sister to lay out with me (in a different spot) so I wouldn't get so incredibly bored. But it was still hot and uncomfortable. We didn't make it the whole hour. And I didn't look tan at all, because I only had lain out around 3pm and 4pm to avoid the hottest part of the day, which I had always been taught to do to avoid sunburn.
On Sunday, though, I went out at 1pm. It was so incredibly hot, I was watching the sweat bead up on my arms and roll off. By then, though, I had figured out that it was better to do 3 10-minute sessions on each side so as to avoid the torture of laying still for so long. So in between the first four and last two sessions of the hour, I ran inside to get a popsicle. Oh man, frozen juice has never tasted so good. And I got super tan. Yaay!
Since then, I've used the 6 10- minute session format almost every day, and my tan is deepening nicely. I have even grown to enjoy my time sunbathing, and I've been able to relax enough to doze sleepily in the sun. The weather has been so nice and breezy the past few days, too. And I've said a lot of rosaries. When I'm done with my hour for the day, I step inside and lay on the couch to watch TV for a little while in my bikini, enjoying the way my skin feels all warm from the sun and smells so delicious from the tanning oil. Sigh. This may be a new summer tradition for me. Maybe.
** 5 Golden Rules for Walking in Heels
1. Keep your weight on the balls of your feet as much as possible. Putting weight on the heel causes wobbling, slipping, and heal breakage.
2. Pick your feet up to at least ankle height during your stride. This will help you avoid what I like to call "heel farts," when your heel scrapes loudly and embarrassingly against the surface on which you are walking, a dead giveaway that you are dragging your feet.
3. Walk as though you are walking a parking lot line, one foot in front of the other. There's no need to cross over dramatically, but keeping your footsteps close to lined up will give your hips a lovely, natural swing as you walk.
4. Confidence! Keep your chin and eyes up, shoulders slightly back and lengthen your neck. Imagine stretching the muscles under your ears that connect your head to your shoulders. And smile a bit, like you know a secret. Here's the secret: you are amazing!! Look at you in those heels! ;D
5. Use all your muscles, especially your abs, glutes, and calves to steady yourself.
Oh, and here's a bonus tip: keep your walk heel-toe, heel-toe or else you're stride will show that you're inexperienced in heels. But remember rule #1. The "heel" of heel-toe should be the briefest touch until your toe comes firmly down to push off again.
If you are walking in heels for the first time (like my sister was) it's probably best to start with wedges and work your way to a smaller and higher heel. But as I also told her, if you practice walking around on your tiptoes, those muscles that you need for walking in heels will strengthen and you'll be ready for anything!
*** My Confirmation Saint
I've always had a special connection to St. Therese, since I was a very little girl. I just always knew that she'd be my confirmation saint. It really was as though she chose me rather than the other way around. When I was little, I loved her child-like faith and the novena asking her for roses. That tangible sign from heaven was so encouraging for me when I was young, and still is. Back then I used to say that novena all the time for every little thing.
As I grew up, though, I fell away from her, especially as I grew in my faith and discovered other amazing saints. Whenever I would tell people that she was my confirmation saint, they would always ask if I'd read The Story of a Soul, but of course I hadn't because I had written it off as too dense for me.
In Peoria in the spring of '09, I had a long talk with one of the nuns, during which she exclaimed, "It is so easy to tell that St. Therese is your confirmation saint; everything you are saying sounds just like her!" And then she asked if I had read Story of a Soul, which I still hadn't, but now I was legitimately curious about it.
It wasn't until the spring of this year, when I was in Peoria again for spring break that I bought the book for myself. We were visiting the museum of Bishop Fulton Sheen (who is a native of Peoria; who knew?) and I was wandering through the gift shop when the glossy little book caught my eye. I don't know why I hesitated before I bought it, but eventually I did.
I started reading it when I got home, and was immediately struck by how similar St. Therese and I are! Her stories of her childhood in the beginning of the book were just so inexplicably familiar, and I identified with her so deeply. I took a break from the book for a few weeks during finals etc., but I picked it up again fairly recently and was again surprised by how alike we are. We could be sisters, really! I don't mean to elevate myself by identifying with such a great saint; I just mean that her way of thinking and mine are very similar, that her natural reactions to things are often the same as mine, though in her great holiness she usually overcomes these. I understand her perfectly, and I love her so dearly, more than I ever have. How blessed I am to have such a wonderful person chose me as her little sister of sorts!
I think it no coincidence that I have rediscovered her during preparations for my trip to Africa; she is the patron saint of missionaries! Although she never left the Carmel, she spiritually adopted many missionaries and dreamed of being able to spread our Lord's love to people the world over. So, St. Therese, pray for me and my fellow missionaries! I am starting to get majorly freaked out about this whole thing.
Ok, that is all. This post makes me seem really worldly, materialistic, and vain... I guess I am. :p Maybe my trip to Ghana will cure me of those unfortunate personality traits. Part of me hopes so and part of me... just really likes pretty things!! If I ever met myself, I don't know if I would like me very much. I might hate me. I might be seriously concerned for my soul. Or I might get along with myself very well, because we were delighted by all the same things. hahaha
- the Eucharist - I mean, seriously, what would a happy list be without the source of our happiness??
- the smell of tanning oil - mmmm, summer... and... banana popsicles?*
- trying on leather jackets in the store while my little sister reminds me again that I don't own a motorcycle
- the way my hair looks when it curls just right, like it did today (sigh, why am i soooo vaaaain...)
- headbands with flowers on them (i just bought a bunch! :D)
- getting packages in the mail (even if it's just boring stuff for Africa, like hand sanitizer)
- teaching my little sister how to walk in heels**
- dancing along to the radio while I pack
- hanging out in my bikini after sunbathing
- the pink lace that I use as a bookmark for my copy of "The Imitation of Christ"
- gold toenail polish
- getting to know St. Therese as I read Story of a Soul***
- looking up the weather forecast for Ghana, clicking on "10 day" and realizing that I'm going to be there during some of that weather!!! gah, it's so crazy. I can't even think about it or I might explode.
And now, since a few of these have touched on topics I've been meaning to write about for some time now, I will elaborate in these blogs within a blog:
* Adventures in Tanning
I have never laid in the sun for the sole purpose of getting tan before. It always just happened after a day at the pool or a week of camping or whatever. So when I started, I had a bit of a time figuring out what to do. I've been meaning to chronicle them here so that those of you who have never tanned but thought about it could learn from my mistakes and those of you who are experienced tanners could laugh at me.
The first day, I went outside and tried to lay on my back for half an hour without moving. I never realized what a fidgety person I am until I attempted this stunt. I barely made it through the half hour without jumping up and running around. Then I had to lay on my stomach for half an hour. Torture. And on top of that, I set up my towel right next to a giant ant hill, which explains the numerous ants crawling on me while I lay there. I'm not really creeped out by bugs, but it was super annoying. I said a rosary and a chaplet of Divine Mercy and offered everything up for the mission.
The next day, I managed to get my little sister to lay out with me (in a different spot) so I wouldn't get so incredibly bored. But it was still hot and uncomfortable. We didn't make it the whole hour. And I didn't look tan at all, because I only had lain out around 3pm and 4pm to avoid the hottest part of the day, which I had always been taught to do to avoid sunburn.
On Sunday, though, I went out at 1pm. It was so incredibly hot, I was watching the sweat bead up on my arms and roll off. By then, though, I had figured out that it was better to do 3 10-minute sessions on each side so as to avoid the torture of laying still for so long. So in between the first four and last two sessions of the hour, I ran inside to get a popsicle. Oh man, frozen juice has never tasted so good. And I got super tan. Yaay!
Since then, I've used the 6 10- minute session format almost every day, and my tan is deepening nicely. I have even grown to enjoy my time sunbathing, and I've been able to relax enough to doze sleepily in the sun. The weather has been so nice and breezy the past few days, too. And I've said a lot of rosaries. When I'm done with my hour for the day, I step inside and lay on the couch to watch TV for a little while in my bikini, enjoying the way my skin feels all warm from the sun and smells so delicious from the tanning oil. Sigh. This may be a new summer tradition for me. Maybe.
** 5 Golden Rules for Walking in Heels
1. Keep your weight on the balls of your feet as much as possible. Putting weight on the heel causes wobbling, slipping, and heal breakage.
2. Pick your feet up to at least ankle height during your stride. This will help you avoid what I like to call "heel farts," when your heel scrapes loudly and embarrassingly against the surface on which you are walking, a dead giveaway that you are dragging your feet.
3. Walk as though you are walking a parking lot line, one foot in front of the other. There's no need to cross over dramatically, but keeping your footsteps close to lined up will give your hips a lovely, natural swing as you walk.
4. Confidence! Keep your chin and eyes up, shoulders slightly back and lengthen your neck. Imagine stretching the muscles under your ears that connect your head to your shoulders. And smile a bit, like you know a secret. Here's the secret: you are amazing!! Look at you in those heels! ;D
5. Use all your muscles, especially your abs, glutes, and calves to steady yourself.
Oh, and here's a bonus tip: keep your walk heel-toe, heel-toe or else you're stride will show that you're inexperienced in heels. But remember rule #1. The "heel" of heel-toe should be the briefest touch until your toe comes firmly down to push off again.
If you are walking in heels for the first time (like my sister was) it's probably best to start with wedges and work your way to a smaller and higher heel. But as I also told her, if you practice walking around on your tiptoes, those muscles that you need for walking in heels will strengthen and you'll be ready for anything!
*** My Confirmation Saint
I've always had a special connection to St. Therese, since I was a very little girl. I just always knew that she'd be my confirmation saint. It really was as though she chose me rather than the other way around. When I was little, I loved her child-like faith and the novena asking her for roses. That tangible sign from heaven was so encouraging for me when I was young, and still is. Back then I used to say that novena all the time for every little thing.
As I grew up, though, I fell away from her, especially as I grew in my faith and discovered other amazing saints. Whenever I would tell people that she was my confirmation saint, they would always ask if I'd read The Story of a Soul, but of course I hadn't because I had written it off as too dense for me.
In Peoria in the spring of '09, I had a long talk with one of the nuns, during which she exclaimed, "It is so easy to tell that St. Therese is your confirmation saint; everything you are saying sounds just like her!" And then she asked if I had read Story of a Soul, which I still hadn't, but now I was legitimately curious about it.
It wasn't until the spring of this year, when I was in Peoria again for spring break that I bought the book for myself. We were visiting the museum of Bishop Fulton Sheen (who is a native of Peoria; who knew?) and I was wandering through the gift shop when the glossy little book caught my eye. I don't know why I hesitated before I bought it, but eventually I did.
I started reading it when I got home, and was immediately struck by how similar St. Therese and I are! Her stories of her childhood in the beginning of the book were just so inexplicably familiar, and I identified with her so deeply. I took a break from the book for a few weeks during finals etc., but I picked it up again fairly recently and was again surprised by how alike we are. We could be sisters, really! I don't mean to elevate myself by identifying with such a great saint; I just mean that her way of thinking and mine are very similar, that her natural reactions to things are often the same as mine, though in her great holiness she usually overcomes these. I understand her perfectly, and I love her so dearly, more than I ever have. How blessed I am to have such a wonderful person chose me as her little sister of sorts!
I think it no coincidence that I have rediscovered her during preparations for my trip to Africa; she is the patron saint of missionaries! Although she never left the Carmel, she spiritually adopted many missionaries and dreamed of being able to spread our Lord's love to people the world over. So, St. Therese, pray for me and my fellow missionaries! I am starting to get majorly freaked out about this whole thing.
Ok, that is all. This post makes me seem really worldly, materialistic, and vain... I guess I am. :p Maybe my trip to Ghana will cure me of those unfortunate personality traits. Part of me hopes so and part of me... just really likes pretty things!! If I ever met myself, I don't know if I would like me very much. I might hate me. I might be seriously concerned for my soul. Or I might get along with myself very well, because we were delighted by all the same things. hahaha
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Africa Update
This morning I took the last dose of my oral typhoid vaccine. Now I never have to wear that annoying orange reminder bracelet again! Yaaay! Also I went back to Passport Health to get my second round of rabies vaccine and made an appointment at the Chicago Passport Health for the third round. So that's all set, I guess.
I did a whole bunch of shopping online and finally ordered everything I need, I think. Now all I have to do is wait for the packages to trickle in. I needed surprisingly a lot of stuff, from 50spf sunscreen and 30% deet bugspray to unscented laundry detergent and a money belt with lots in between. Hand sanitizer, a wash that makes your clothes spf 30, extra tank tops to wear under my fancy button-down shirts from L.L. Bean. These shirts, in the tropicwear line, are really fantastic. They are spf 50, moisture-wicking, and light as can be. And they have vents in the back so you are covered but your back is open to the air under some mesh. Delightful. I'm so excited for them to come in the mail. The pants I ordered from, of all places, Victoria's Secret came yesterday. They were the only place that had slim-fit khakis, which I need because they are lighter than jeans and can be tucked into work boots without looking ridiculous. Is it ridiculous that I care about how I'll look there? I generally always care about how I look. Even when I'm building a church in a tiny village in Ghana. Anyway, the pants fit like they were made for me, which is quite a relief, because I bought them sight-unseen off of the website (VS doesn't sell normal clothes in their stores, only online and via catalogue, in case you were wondering hahaha) and Lord knows it is hard enough to find pants that fit properly, let alone skinny jeans that fit properly. I also bought a pair of lovely poplin shorts that also fit quite well and are incredibly comfortable and lightweight. So so far I am pleased with my purchases.
Once all of my packages arrive, I'll need to pre-treat all my clothes with the spf 30 wash and the permethrin spray. Did I tell you this already? I can never remember who I told what and where I wrote what down. Oh well.
I am also planning on having an old broken camera repaired for the trip (hopefully it'll be cheap) and I need to have all the pictures on my SD card cleared onto a CD so I have as much room as possible for Africa pictures!! I'm not a big picture-taker, so I probably would be alright even if I didn't clear the card, but you never know. I may suddenly blossom into some fiendish photographer who cannot stop snapping shots. Say that ten times fast...
My mother has been suggesting that I lay out in the sun a bit before leaving to establish a base tan. Ghana is actually on the equator, so the sun will be pretty fierce. And I am pasty white... Still I was surprised to hear my mother suggest such a thing. It is very unlike her. So next week will probably find me in a little two-piece on a towel in my backyard with a bottle of spf 8 tanning oil (my brother's???). Fun fun! I've never lain out before for the sole purpose of getting tan. I'm not quite sure how to go about it. 15 minutes on each side? 30 minutes? More? How often to apply the oil? Good grief. I'll have to go to about.com or something. This really is ridiculous.
As are my dreams lately... I keep dreaming very paperwork-y dreams. Like, I have to go to an office and fill stuff out, or go to a school for orientation, or other nonsense like that. It's really quite boring and a little stressful. I generally prefer my dreams to be more pleasant. But I'm afraid that they do reflect what's been going on in my life lately; I have so many hoops to jump through before my preparation for what has come to be known simply as "Africa" are complete.
Ok, this post turned into a ramble a little bit, but that's alright. It has allowed you a little peek into my life as I prepare for what is certain to be a life-changing experience. And after all, what are blogs for but to allow us places to ramble with the hopes that someone else will read and enjoy?
I did a whole bunch of shopping online and finally ordered everything I need, I think. Now all I have to do is wait for the packages to trickle in. I needed surprisingly a lot of stuff, from 50spf sunscreen and 30% deet bugspray to unscented laundry detergent and a money belt with lots in between. Hand sanitizer, a wash that makes your clothes spf 30, extra tank tops to wear under my fancy button-down shirts from L.L. Bean. These shirts, in the tropicwear line, are really fantastic. They are spf 50, moisture-wicking, and light as can be. And they have vents in the back so you are covered but your back is open to the air under some mesh. Delightful. I'm so excited for them to come in the mail. The pants I ordered from, of all places, Victoria's Secret came yesterday. They were the only place that had slim-fit khakis, which I need because they are lighter than jeans and can be tucked into work boots without looking ridiculous. Is it ridiculous that I care about how I'll look there? I generally always care about how I look. Even when I'm building a church in a tiny village in Ghana. Anyway, the pants fit like they were made for me, which is quite a relief, because I bought them sight-unseen off of the website (VS doesn't sell normal clothes in their stores, only online and via catalogue, in case you were wondering hahaha) and Lord knows it is hard enough to find pants that fit properly, let alone skinny jeans that fit properly. I also bought a pair of lovely poplin shorts that also fit quite well and are incredibly comfortable and lightweight. So so far I am pleased with my purchases.
Once all of my packages arrive, I'll need to pre-treat all my clothes with the spf 30 wash and the permethrin spray. Did I tell you this already? I can never remember who I told what and where I wrote what down. Oh well.
I am also planning on having an old broken camera repaired for the trip (hopefully it'll be cheap) and I need to have all the pictures on my SD card cleared onto a CD so I have as much room as possible for Africa pictures!! I'm not a big picture-taker, so I probably would be alright even if I didn't clear the card, but you never know. I may suddenly blossom into some fiendish photographer who cannot stop snapping shots. Say that ten times fast...
My mother has been suggesting that I lay out in the sun a bit before leaving to establish a base tan. Ghana is actually on the equator, so the sun will be pretty fierce. And I am pasty white... Still I was surprised to hear my mother suggest such a thing. It is very unlike her. So next week will probably find me in a little two-piece on a towel in my backyard with a bottle of spf 8 tanning oil (my brother's???). Fun fun! I've never lain out before for the sole purpose of getting tan. I'm not quite sure how to go about it. 15 minutes on each side? 30 minutes? More? How often to apply the oil? Good grief. I'll have to go to about.com or something. This really is ridiculous.
As are my dreams lately... I keep dreaming very paperwork-y dreams. Like, I have to go to an office and fill stuff out, or go to a school for orientation, or other nonsense like that. It's really quite boring and a little stressful. I generally prefer my dreams to be more pleasant. But I'm afraid that they do reflect what's been going on in my life lately; I have so many hoops to jump through before my preparation for what has come to be known simply as "Africa" are complete.
Ok, this post turned into a ramble a little bit, but that's alright. It has allowed you a little peek into my life as I prepare for what is certain to be a life-changing experience. And after all, what are blogs for but to allow us places to ramble with the hopes that someone else will read and enjoy?
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Vaccines and Other Meds
Yesterday was my appointment with Passport Health to be educated about and vaccinated for the various diseases I could contract while in Ghana. It was actually the second time I had scheduled the appointment, because the first time I couldn't find the office to save my life and finally called them about 45 minutes past my appointment time to give up and reschedule.
This time I found the office just fine (I went to the Monroeville office instead of the Carnegie one, even though it's about twice as far), but I was still late because of rush hour traffic. Sitting in traffic in a minivan with the sun beating through the open windows without air conditioning or wind = not fun. They were super nice about it at the office, though, and the nurse made sure to go over everything very completely with me and make sure I had everything I needed, even though she stayed way past 5pm to do so. May God bless her!
There are no fewer (and probably even a few more) than 17 serious illnesses I am at risk for in Ghana, only 7 of which I am now vaccinated against. There just aren't vaccines for a bunch of them, and the rest are usually not fatal, I guess. And anyway the vaccines/meds for typhoid and malaria don't even guarantee immunity. Although my regular vaccination schedule had me covered for the more common diseases like meningitis and hepatitis B, I still chose to get the shots for hepatitis A, pneumococcal polysaccharide, polio, rabies, yellow fever (this one is required to enter the country), and typhoid fever. This last one is an oral vaccine, meaning that they gave me a little box with four pills in it. And it is live. I'm actually introducing a weakened strain of typhoid fever into my body. I took one this morning and will need to take one Saturday, Monday, and Wednesday morning, too, before I'm done. But that still leaves 5 shots at one time...
I guess I wasn't thinking that this would be a big deal when I made the appointment. I get 3 allergy shots every other week, I thought. I'm used to being pricked. But as she began to wipe down my left arm with alcohol, I truly wanted nothing more than for someone to be there to hold my hand. So I began to pray. I said Hail Marys through all 5 shots, two in the top of the left arm, one in the back of the left arm, and two at the top of the right arm. I'm not gonna lie, it was kind of intense. It was just so much at once, and the needles were bigger than allergy shots, and there was more liquid in the syringes, liquid that had now been unnaturally forced into my arm muscles. The nurse tried to distract me with small talk, but I must have looked slightly shell-shocked when she was all done, because she gave me a slightly concerned look and asked if I was ok. I took a deep breath and smiled and said yes, I was fine. I was. The truth is that I did feel the presence of my Blessed Mother very strongly throughout the little ordeal. I'm so glad she was there with me; I don't know how I would have handled it without her. And I offered everything for the mission. And I got three cool Snoopy bandaids. :)
Most of the vaccines carry with them the slight possibility that I could get sick, or at least experience a low-grade fever, some stomach aches, or nausea. I've never had a reaction to a vaccination in my life, but to be perfectly honest, I am feeling a little under the weather right now. I'm just really tired and I feel a little achy and my arms really are killing me. It's not just the sites of the shots that hurt; my muscles are sore all up and down my arms, especially the left one. I've been keeping my fluids up, and luckily I'm not working today, so I should be alright. I am blogging and watching TV on my laptop and shopping for lightweight pants and long-sleeved shirts to protect against mosquito bites. Nothing too strenuous haha.
Speaking of mosquitoes, I will also be on anti-malarial meds for the duration of my trip. One pill a day and increased sun sensitivity, so I will need to wash all of my clothes with Sun Guard and buy a big hat. And most of the diseases there are spread through insect bites, so I'm supposed to wear long sleeved shirts with the cuffs buttoned closed and long pants tucked into my shoes to prevent bugs from reaching my skin. Cute. Apparently just wearing long pants isn't enough protection and bugs will fly up my pant legs if they're not secured by a band or tucked in. I have to treat all of my clothes with a very strong insect repellent before I leave and will probably treat my sleeping area with it, too, once I arrive.
I felt hugely relieved on my drive home, even though there's so much left to do now. My mom told me when I got home that this was the part of this trip that she was the most worried about; the vaccines. I told her that I'm so glad she waited until after I got the shots to voice her concerns; I don't know if I would have had the courage to go through with it otherwise! She assured me that of course she would never do that to me, that it was just her protective motherly instinct, and that if I was called to the mission, I just had to take those things as they came. God bless my mother!!!
This is all so crazy and so real that it's finally coming clear to me that this is really happening. I am going to a hugely underprivileged area to work and live with the people there, to experience their poverty and try to do a little something about it. And yet I know that, in their simplicity, they are far richer spiritually that I have ever been, that I am the one who will truly gain by engaging with them.
Plus, now I'm INVINCIBLE!!! Hahahaha bring it on, Africa!
This time I found the office just fine (I went to the Monroeville office instead of the Carnegie one, even though it's about twice as far), but I was still late because of rush hour traffic. Sitting in traffic in a minivan with the sun beating through the open windows without air conditioning or wind = not fun. They were super nice about it at the office, though, and the nurse made sure to go over everything very completely with me and make sure I had everything I needed, even though she stayed way past 5pm to do so. May God bless her!
There are no fewer (and probably even a few more) than 17 serious illnesses I am at risk for in Ghana, only 7 of which I am now vaccinated against. There just aren't vaccines for a bunch of them, and the rest are usually not fatal, I guess. And anyway the vaccines/meds for typhoid and malaria don't even guarantee immunity. Although my regular vaccination schedule had me covered for the more common diseases like meningitis and hepatitis B, I still chose to get the shots for hepatitis A, pneumococcal polysaccharide, polio, rabies, yellow fever (this one is required to enter the country), and typhoid fever. This last one is an oral vaccine, meaning that they gave me a little box with four pills in it. And it is live. I'm actually introducing a weakened strain of typhoid fever into my body. I took one this morning and will need to take one Saturday, Monday, and Wednesday morning, too, before I'm done. But that still leaves 5 shots at one time...
I guess I wasn't thinking that this would be a big deal when I made the appointment. I get 3 allergy shots every other week, I thought. I'm used to being pricked. But as she began to wipe down my left arm with alcohol, I truly wanted nothing more than for someone to be there to hold my hand. So I began to pray. I said Hail Marys through all 5 shots, two in the top of the left arm, one in the back of the left arm, and two at the top of the right arm. I'm not gonna lie, it was kind of intense. It was just so much at once, and the needles were bigger than allergy shots, and there was more liquid in the syringes, liquid that had now been unnaturally forced into my arm muscles. The nurse tried to distract me with small talk, but I must have looked slightly shell-shocked when she was all done, because she gave me a slightly concerned look and asked if I was ok. I took a deep breath and smiled and said yes, I was fine. I was. The truth is that I did feel the presence of my Blessed Mother very strongly throughout the little ordeal. I'm so glad she was there with me; I don't know how I would have handled it without her. And I offered everything for the mission. And I got three cool Snoopy bandaids. :)
Most of the vaccines carry with them the slight possibility that I could get sick, or at least experience a low-grade fever, some stomach aches, or nausea. I've never had a reaction to a vaccination in my life, but to be perfectly honest, I am feeling a little under the weather right now. I'm just really tired and I feel a little achy and my arms really are killing me. It's not just the sites of the shots that hurt; my muscles are sore all up and down my arms, especially the left one. I've been keeping my fluids up, and luckily I'm not working today, so I should be alright. I am blogging and watching TV on my laptop and shopping for lightweight pants and long-sleeved shirts to protect against mosquito bites. Nothing too strenuous haha.
Speaking of mosquitoes, I will also be on anti-malarial meds for the duration of my trip. One pill a day and increased sun sensitivity, so I will need to wash all of my clothes with Sun Guard and buy a big hat. And most of the diseases there are spread through insect bites, so I'm supposed to wear long sleeved shirts with the cuffs buttoned closed and long pants tucked into my shoes to prevent bugs from reaching my skin. Cute. Apparently just wearing long pants isn't enough protection and bugs will fly up my pant legs if they're not secured by a band or tucked in. I have to treat all of my clothes with a very strong insect repellent before I leave and will probably treat my sleeping area with it, too, once I arrive.
I felt hugely relieved on my drive home, even though there's so much left to do now. My mom told me when I got home that this was the part of this trip that she was the most worried about; the vaccines. I told her that I'm so glad she waited until after I got the shots to voice her concerns; I don't know if I would have had the courage to go through with it otherwise! She assured me that of course she would never do that to me, that it was just her protective motherly instinct, and that if I was called to the mission, I just had to take those things as they came. God bless my mother!!!
This is all so crazy and so real that it's finally coming clear to me that this is really happening. I am going to a hugely underprivileged area to work and live with the people there, to experience their poverty and try to do a little something about it. And yet I know that, in their simplicity, they are far richer spiritually that I have ever been, that I am the one who will truly gain by engaging with them.
Plus, now I'm INVINCIBLE!!! Hahahaha bring it on, Africa!
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Fundraising Fiasco
I've been meaning to write a chronicle of my crazy fundraising efforts this past weekend, but I've been so busy with my nannying job and my new workout regime (woot woot!) that all I've really wanted to do this week is sleep. But now it's Friday night, I've had a whole day to do nothing, and it's thunderstorming, so I'm in a great writing mood. Ergo, what follows is an account of the weekend of May 22/23, the fateful weekend that blessed me with over $3800. Read on... if you dare...
Saturday, May 22, 2010
I sleep in this morning, because I have already gotten into such a horrible late-to-bed-late-to-rise sleep schedule, plus I was out late on a babysitting job last night. I spend a few hours in the afternoon watching online TV at hulu.com. (love this site! where has it been all my life?) Then I get right down to business baking cookies. What is a fundraiser without cookies, after all? I make a double recipe of chocolate chip cookie dough, the equivalent of 10 dozen cookies. The oven is heated to 375 degrees, making the already-warm summer air almost unbearable. The cookie dough seems too thin, but it's the Nestle Toll House original recipe, so I decide to trust the cookbook. Poor choice. The cookies spread out several inches on the pan and stick horribly. Yea, the recipe also said to use an ungreased cookie sheet. Grr. And did I mention that these little suckers burn if they are in the oven an instant too long? Well, they do. And every sheet seems to take a different amount of time. This all results in me having to watch the cookies in the oven like a hawk tracking its prey, pull them out in the knick of time, put the next sheet in, and then carefully scrape the cooked cookies off the sheet without breaking them. (Eventually I did start greasing the sheets, but at first I was worried that oil on the sheet would encourage more spreading, so I preferred to just be careful when transferring the cookies from sheet to cooling rack.)
Ay.
On top of this rather unfortunate cookie situation, I am scheduled to cantor the 5pm Mass. I think it's going to be a pretty straightforward Mass, but my mom keeps yelling from the couch in the living room that I need to look at the music. I take a brief break from cookie-ing to review the psalm. It's fairly easy. I get back into the kitchen. Mom's not satisfied, so she starts looking over the music herself.
"There's a new hymn in here," she calls from the piano.
"What??" And then she starts playing it on the piano while I continue to pull almost-burned-yet-not-quite-done cookies out of the oven. At this point I am so hot and frustrated with the cookies, the music and the fact that I haven't even started writing my parish talk that I feel more annoyed than anything else, but I bite my tongue. It is really very sweet of her to help me learn the music in a way that doesn't require me to leave the kitchen.
3:30pm
I finally give up on making all the cookies about 2/3 of the way through the dough. I need to get ready so I can get to the church around 4, in time to set up and make it to rehearsal at 4:30. I pull the final tray of cookies out of the oven and run up to my room to get ready.
4:15pm
I am hopping out of the car outside the breezeway of the church, appropriately clad in a cute but classy outfit with a huge tray of cookies and a basket for donations in hand and a bag with my baby laptop in it slung over my shoulder. Upon entering the breezeway, I see that there is another group setting up shop; a family from Bethlehem (the city of our Savior's birth, not Bethlehem, PA haha) is selling hand-carved olive-wood statues, crosses, etc. Their shop takes up three folding tables, but I don't see a place for me. I leave the basket and my tray of cookies on a coffee table across the breezeway from them and trip-trap over to the pastor's office in my little white heels with the bows on the toes. He informs me that whatever tables and chairs are out there are all that's available for the weekend and wishes me luck finding a place to set up. I thank him for giving me the opportunity to do this this weekend and head back to the breezeway, wondering how I'm going to set up. Eventually I decide to just leave the cookies and basket on the coffee table, because there's a nice leather couch behind it and a couple of chairs that makes for a comfortable little sitting area close to the doors of the church. Perfect.
4:30
The Rooney Room, where the choir usually rehearses before Mass, is full of science project boards from the Carnegie Science competitions, so I meet the organist outside in the church to run over the music for the Mass. We review the new hymn and the verses to the psalm once each, but for some reason he trusts me to know the rest and hurries off to make copies of a special Pentecost song that has to be in the pews since we don't use songsheets anymore. I therefore am left with my nerves and the music which I have barely looked at all day. After a quick stop in the tabernacle chapel to beg for the graces I need to make it through the evening, I sit myself down at the piano to further review the music. Once I have gotten to the point where I can sing through all the pieces without any help from the piano to find the right pitches, I sit down in the front row of the choir section to write my appeal speech. I know what I want to say, so it's just a matter of writing down the key points I want to make.
Surprisingly, all this bustle still doesn't take more than 20 minutes, so I'm still sitting there with my nerves and copies of music lying open around me, waiting to get the signal from the priest to start the Mass. More prayers for strength and courage. More harried reviewing of music. Dear God, will Mass never begin?!!
5:05
I finally see the wave from the back of the church and step up to the microphone.
"Good Evening. Today we celebrate the feast of Pentecost. All music for today's Mass can be found in the Gather hymnal..." As usual, as soon as I begin my nerves settle down and my faith in myself is restored. I can do this. The opening hymn goes beautifully and I even make it through the Gloria with no mistakes. Praise God; last time I lead the Gloria I completely butchered it, or at least made up large sections of melody.
I don't hear a single word of the first reading; I am reviewing the psalm in my head over and over... When the reading is over and the music begins, I walk up to the ambo, pausing to bow before stepping up on the altar. I shouldn't have worried. The verses are a simple chant and it's easy to hear my notes in the chords of the organ. I step down extremely relieved. I know it may seem like a hassle, but I absolutely love singing the word of God to the people in the pews. How beautiful words become when they are set to music! It only brings out the beauty of the scripture that much more. And people enjoy my singing; I can see in on their faces as I finish. Truly, some of the most satisfying moments of my still-young musical career have occurred while singing a psalm in a way that touches the hearts of my listeners. I pray for that grace before every performance, that my voice may in some way touch the hearts of those who hear me and bring them closer to Him.
But I digress. The rest of Mass went swimmingly, and I nailed that new hymn like I've been singing it my whole life. After communion, I step up to the ambo once more after Father's brief introduction. My family is in the pews this evening, and I can see them smiling at me, even though I know that my mom is a touch embarrassed that her daughter is getting up in front of everyone to beg for money. But she is smiling at me nonetheless. So I take a deep breath. And I deliver the following speech:
"Hi everyone! As Father said, my name is Jane Henkels, and I promise not to take up more than a few minutes of your time. I've been a parishioner here since I was about two years old. I graduated from St. Thomas More grade school in 2004. I started singing at Masses when I was about 5 years old, and I sang my first psalm from this ambo when I was in second grade. [Here my dad actually laughs out loud, and if you know my dad, you know that it was indeed loud. His laugh prompts a slight ripple of laughter from those around him, and I continue, encouraged.] But that's not why I'm here right now; I'm here to tell you about a pretty amazing opportunity I've been given for this summer. I was chosen from a fairly large pool of applicants across the country to accompany a group of students and missionaries on FOCUS's, that is, the Fellowship of Catholic University Students, first ever mission trip to Ghana in West Africa. For two weeks, we'll be staying in a tiny village 3 hours outside of the capital city. The people there have been celebrating Mass in nothing more than a hut, and they don't have a parish priest, so they are only able to receive the Eucharist once a month. We are so blessed to be able to receive Him every week or every day if we want, but these people are not so blessed. So for those two weeks we'll be building a church for them and helping out with catechesis. Then we'll return to the capital, Accra, to work with the Missionaries of Charity, Mother Teresa's order, in the slums of the city and in their AIDS ward.
So... I'm pretty excited about this, obviously, but the cost of the trip is $3500, and I certainly don't have the means to come up with this money on my own. All of us going on the trip have been asking our families and friends for support, so I thought I would ask you, my parish family, to help me out. So, I'll be in the breezeway after Mass, and I brought cookies [turn up the charm, insert persuasive smile here and yes, they laughed] and it would mean so much to me if you would stop by. Thanks so much for your time!"
I step down from the altar to thunderous applause, which I really am not expecting. Why would anyone clap after you ask them for money? But it feels quite good, to have the support of my parish like that, and I walk over to the breezeway with a huge smile on my face as my mom takes over the leading of the closing hymn.
The response of my fellow parishioners is overwhelming; scads of people come over after the final blessing to talk to me, to donate, to buy cookies, to warn me about malaria, to tell me about their family members or friends who have traveled to Africa, to ask me questions about the trip. I play the video for the trip on my laptop for everyone to see, and people are very interested, especially the children. One woman makes sure to come over to the table, press a St. Jeanne Jugan medal into my palm and encourage me to carry it with me during the trip. I love things like that. It makes me feel so connected to the Body of Christ.
After everyone had gone home, I stuff my winnings into a manila envelope and head home to count it all. The total is $843.50. Wow. At this rate I'll have enough money for sure. But I don't want to get my hopes up.
By this time I am really pretty tired from the excitement of the evening, but no rest for the wicked, I guess, because I have to bake more cookies! I sold the whole tray after the 5pm Mass and still have part of my last batch of cookie dough left to bake. I know that I need enough cookies for at least 3 more Masses and that I had sold 2/3 of 10 dozen cookies tonight. So it seems I have no choice but to make another double batch of chocolate chip cookies. I follow the same recipe, but this time I add 3 cups of flour, I lightly grease the cookie sheets, and lower the oven temperature to 350 degrees. The cookies come out looking like something from a dream. They're perfect. Now only 9 dozen more to go...
Sunday, May 23, 2010
1:30am
I finally sink into bed, exhausted. I will never bake another cookie again as long as I live.
7:00am
My alarm goes off. Gotta get up for the 8am Mass...
7:30am
I get out of bed. That snooze button...
8:10am
I leave for Mass. I get there just as the homily is beginning. Perfect. I stow my huge box of cookies under the coffee table and set up the tray and the basket for collections as per yesterday and I have time to slip into the bathroom and do my makeup before giving my talk. Actually I have more than enough time; I am done in time for the Liturgy of the Eucharist, so I sneak out into the church behind the choir section and enjoy the Consecration from a hidden spot off to the side near the tabernacle chapel, but I don't receive Communion since I didn't even make an effort to be on time to Mass. Plus, I'll be going to all the Masses today. There's no need to rush things.
The talk goes well, but no laughter; the crowd is much quieter, which I suppose is understandable since it's kind of early in the morning. Their support is unquestionable, though, as I raise another $810. And they don't eat very many cookies, also probably because it's early in the morning, so I am hopeful about my supply making it through to the 11:30 Mass.
9:15am
I settle into the pew for the 9:30 Mass. This one I am attending from start to finish, so I take some time to quiet my heart, etc, and prepare myself to receive my Maker. He is so good to us. I don't even know what to say about His generosity.
The talk goes well again. I'm beginning to sound more polished now that I've given the speech for the third time. There is no audible audience response until their applause (again!), but they are smiling. And that makes me very happy. I stay for the final blessing to seal in all those good graces I received in the Eucharist, even though I know I'll probably miss a couple of people leaving because of it. This crowd eats a lot of cookies, almost two trays full, and I raise $723.20.
I had planned on grabbing something to eat before the 11:30 Mass, but I run into an old friend of mine and we get to talking, and I am of the opinion that fellowship is more valuable than food, so I let our conversation go on for a while. It is so good to talk to her; we haven't seen each other in so long! We are both going to the 11:30 Mass, so we head into the church together and she wishes me luck.
11:30am
Another Mass, another talk. The crowd is a bit more lively, and as I step down from the altar to walk to the breezeway, I hear a cheer from the direction of my friend's family; she (or one of her sisters) is showing her support! How lovely. :)
Again, people are super supportive, giving $706. I do run out of cookies, as I had feared, but there are only a few people who don't get cookies that want them, so it's not too bad. It seems that more people are interested in giving as much as they can than those who are just interested in buying cookies. Indeed, I averaged about $14 a cookie by the end of the weekend.
1:00pm
I return home, truly exhausted now. But I know that if I fall asleep I'll be groggy for the 5pm Mass this evening. Besides, I have more cookies to bake since I ran out at the 11:30. I don't have the strength to make another batch from scratch after last night, and anyway we're out of chocolate chips by now. So I pull a Funfetti cake mix from the pantry and make sugar cookies from the mix. While they're cooling I count up my money from the first three Masses of the day, and I am extremely encouraged to find that I only need to raise about $400 more to reach $3500 which, judging from the other Masses, should be extremely doable. I am too tired to get really excited about this, plus there are cookies to be iced now. Over the course of these two days I baked somewhere around 24 dozen - 288 - cookies. Yes. I vow I will never bake again. (A vow I ended up breaking this past Friday, when I made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for the 8th grade graduation. And I liked it. Baking and I just needed to take a little break, that's all.)
5:00pm
I leave for the 5pm Mass. Since I've already been twice today there's no need for me to be on time. I touch up my makeup in the bathroom during Mass and chat with the mother of the family from Bethlehem, who have also been at all the Masses selling their wares. She and I both admit that we're doing very well, though she thinks we would have done better if we hadn't been there at the same time. I didn't say so, but I disagree. I think it's cool that we're both there at the same time. I think we bring each other business, that people who stopped in to see the olive-wood carvings maybe dropped by to buy a couple of cookies and that people who came to donate to me maybe sauntered over to her table. It's like a little fair, especially with all the science boards in the Rooney Room. Our parish is just teeming with life and love. It's fantastic, really.
My final talk of the weekend goes off without a hitch (and the more-awake 5pm crowd laughs at my persuasive cookie-making line - success!), but I am definitely breathing a sigh of relief as I walk down the altar steps for the last time. This whole ordeal has been more exhausting that I anticipated.
6:30pm
I finally head home to count everything up. All told, I raised $3865. This is plenty for the trip and probably for my airfare as well. I am hugely relieved; just this past Wednesday I had been on the phone with the director of the summer missions discussing how seriously behind I was in my fundraising. I got off the phone that afternoon thinking that, if things didn't go well this weekend, I would have to pull out of the trip. I prayed a long long litany to pretty much every saint I could think of, begging God to help me if it was His will that I go. Well, let me tell ya: if I had any doubt in my mind that He wanted me to go to Ghana before this weekend, it has certainly been erased. I skip outside where my mom is planting geraniums and tell her the good news. She is absolutely floored, and just as relieved as I am (probably more so, actually). We praise God together a little bit before I got inside to sleep!! I am seriously so tired by this point that I think I'm going to fall asleep standing up. It is so much easier for me to sleep now; cliche as it sounds, it is as though a huge weight has been lifted from my heart.
Monday, May 24, 2010
I recount all the money. When I'm done, there is a huge stack of cash sorted according to denomination and all facing the same way about as high as 5 or 6 inches. I feel like a drug dealer walking around with all that cash. Since my bank is in Harrisburg, my parents have to deposit the money in their bank account and write me a check. There's some reason that I'm with PSECU despite the distance, but I can't remember what it is...
I mail $2100 and all my paperwork for the trip to the Summer Missions Office; after this I only have another $600 due, which I obviously have now. I send an email to the leader of the missions and of my mission in particular telling them that it's all in the mail and that they'll have it by Wednesday. Phew!
The rest of the $3800 after the $2700 due to FOCUS will go towards the following:
- paying for my airfare to and from Chicago, where the flights to Ghana depart/arrive and where we'll be having a small retreat before and after to avoid culture shock both ways.
- paying for my appointment with Passport Health, my immunizations, and the malaria and anti-diarrheal medications I'll have to take while I'm there, all of which are surprisingly expensive, possibly around $1000 total. (interesting side note: the malaria meds may cause hallucinations. hahaha that should be fun when we're all taking them...)
- paying for the cost of materials for the church we're building
- donations to the Missionaries of Charity
And still the donations keep trickling in. I've received a couple of checks in the mail from the Facebook page I set up and from appeal letters I sent out. This weekend when I went to Mass a couple of people who had missed me last weekend handed me checks and cash. One woman left a card with money in it in the will call box in the parish office. Overall, the support has been quite overwhelming. I still have to write thank you notes to my donors and deposit the envelope stuffed with checks made out to me.
While you're reading, I want to send a big THANK YOU out to everyone who has donated money or remembered me in prayer or even just told me that you believed in me and my mission or showed interest. It means so much to me to have so many people holding me in their hearts as I prepare to go where He is sending me. I promise you will all be in my prayers, especially in the next couple of months.
I leave July 5th!!! Ghana, here I come!!! :D
Saturday, May 22, 2010
I sleep in this morning, because I have already gotten into such a horrible late-to-bed-late-to-rise sleep schedule, plus I was out late on a babysitting job last night. I spend a few hours in the afternoon watching online TV at hulu.com. (love this site! where has it been all my life?) Then I get right down to business baking cookies. What is a fundraiser without cookies, after all? I make a double recipe of chocolate chip cookie dough, the equivalent of 10 dozen cookies. The oven is heated to 375 degrees, making the already-warm summer air almost unbearable. The cookie dough seems too thin, but it's the Nestle Toll House original recipe, so I decide to trust the cookbook. Poor choice. The cookies spread out several inches on the pan and stick horribly. Yea, the recipe also said to use an ungreased cookie sheet. Grr. And did I mention that these little suckers burn if they are in the oven an instant too long? Well, they do. And every sheet seems to take a different amount of time. This all results in me having to watch the cookies in the oven like a hawk tracking its prey, pull them out in the knick of time, put the next sheet in, and then carefully scrape the cooked cookies off the sheet without breaking them. (Eventually I did start greasing the sheets, but at first I was worried that oil on the sheet would encourage more spreading, so I preferred to just be careful when transferring the cookies from sheet to cooling rack.)
Ay.
On top of this rather unfortunate cookie situation, I am scheduled to cantor the 5pm Mass. I think it's going to be a pretty straightforward Mass, but my mom keeps yelling from the couch in the living room that I need to look at the music. I take a brief break from cookie-ing to review the psalm. It's fairly easy. I get back into the kitchen. Mom's not satisfied, so she starts looking over the music herself.
"There's a new hymn in here," she calls from the piano.
"What??" And then she starts playing it on the piano while I continue to pull almost-burned-yet-not-quite-done cookies out of the oven. At this point I am so hot and frustrated with the cookies, the music and the fact that I haven't even started writing my parish talk that I feel more annoyed than anything else, but I bite my tongue. It is really very sweet of her to help me learn the music in a way that doesn't require me to leave the kitchen.
3:30pm
I finally give up on making all the cookies about 2/3 of the way through the dough. I need to get ready so I can get to the church around 4, in time to set up and make it to rehearsal at 4:30. I pull the final tray of cookies out of the oven and run up to my room to get ready.
4:15pm
I am hopping out of the car outside the breezeway of the church, appropriately clad in a cute but classy outfit with a huge tray of cookies and a basket for donations in hand and a bag with my baby laptop in it slung over my shoulder. Upon entering the breezeway, I see that there is another group setting up shop; a family from Bethlehem (the city of our Savior's birth, not Bethlehem, PA haha) is selling hand-carved olive-wood statues, crosses, etc. Their shop takes up three folding tables, but I don't see a place for me. I leave the basket and my tray of cookies on a coffee table across the breezeway from them and trip-trap over to the pastor's office in my little white heels with the bows on the toes. He informs me that whatever tables and chairs are out there are all that's available for the weekend and wishes me luck finding a place to set up. I thank him for giving me the opportunity to do this this weekend and head back to the breezeway, wondering how I'm going to set up. Eventually I decide to just leave the cookies and basket on the coffee table, because there's a nice leather couch behind it and a couple of chairs that makes for a comfortable little sitting area close to the doors of the church. Perfect.
4:30
The Rooney Room, where the choir usually rehearses before Mass, is full of science project boards from the Carnegie Science competitions, so I meet the organist outside in the church to run over the music for the Mass. We review the new hymn and the verses to the psalm once each, but for some reason he trusts me to know the rest and hurries off to make copies of a special Pentecost song that has to be in the pews since we don't use songsheets anymore. I therefore am left with my nerves and the music which I have barely looked at all day. After a quick stop in the tabernacle chapel to beg for the graces I need to make it through the evening, I sit myself down at the piano to further review the music. Once I have gotten to the point where I can sing through all the pieces without any help from the piano to find the right pitches, I sit down in the front row of the choir section to write my appeal speech. I know what I want to say, so it's just a matter of writing down the key points I want to make.
Surprisingly, all this bustle still doesn't take more than 20 minutes, so I'm still sitting there with my nerves and copies of music lying open around me, waiting to get the signal from the priest to start the Mass. More prayers for strength and courage. More harried reviewing of music. Dear God, will Mass never begin?!!
5:05
I finally see the wave from the back of the church and step up to the microphone.
"Good Evening. Today we celebrate the feast of Pentecost. All music for today's Mass can be found in the Gather hymnal..." As usual, as soon as I begin my nerves settle down and my faith in myself is restored. I can do this. The opening hymn goes beautifully and I even make it through the Gloria with no mistakes. Praise God; last time I lead the Gloria I completely butchered it, or at least made up large sections of melody.
I don't hear a single word of the first reading; I am reviewing the psalm in my head over and over... When the reading is over and the music begins, I walk up to the ambo, pausing to bow before stepping up on the altar. I shouldn't have worried. The verses are a simple chant and it's easy to hear my notes in the chords of the organ. I step down extremely relieved. I know it may seem like a hassle, but I absolutely love singing the word of God to the people in the pews. How beautiful words become when they are set to music! It only brings out the beauty of the scripture that much more. And people enjoy my singing; I can see in on their faces as I finish. Truly, some of the most satisfying moments of my still-young musical career have occurred while singing a psalm in a way that touches the hearts of my listeners. I pray for that grace before every performance, that my voice may in some way touch the hearts of those who hear me and bring them closer to Him.
But I digress. The rest of Mass went swimmingly, and I nailed that new hymn like I've been singing it my whole life. After communion, I step up to the ambo once more after Father's brief introduction. My family is in the pews this evening, and I can see them smiling at me, even though I know that my mom is a touch embarrassed that her daughter is getting up in front of everyone to beg for money. But she is smiling at me nonetheless. So I take a deep breath. And I deliver the following speech:
"Hi everyone! As Father said, my name is Jane Henkels, and I promise not to take up more than a few minutes of your time. I've been a parishioner here since I was about two years old. I graduated from St. Thomas More grade school in 2004. I started singing at Masses when I was about 5 years old, and I sang my first psalm from this ambo when I was in second grade. [Here my dad actually laughs out loud, and if you know my dad, you know that it was indeed loud. His laugh prompts a slight ripple of laughter from those around him, and I continue, encouraged.] But that's not why I'm here right now; I'm here to tell you about a pretty amazing opportunity I've been given for this summer. I was chosen from a fairly large pool of applicants across the country to accompany a group of students and missionaries on FOCUS's, that is, the Fellowship of Catholic University Students, first ever mission trip to Ghana in West Africa. For two weeks, we'll be staying in a tiny village 3 hours outside of the capital city. The people there have been celebrating Mass in nothing more than a hut, and they don't have a parish priest, so they are only able to receive the Eucharist once a month. We are so blessed to be able to receive Him every week or every day if we want, but these people are not so blessed. So for those two weeks we'll be building a church for them and helping out with catechesis. Then we'll return to the capital, Accra, to work with the Missionaries of Charity, Mother Teresa's order, in the slums of the city and in their AIDS ward.
So... I'm pretty excited about this, obviously, but the cost of the trip is $3500, and I certainly don't have the means to come up with this money on my own. All of us going on the trip have been asking our families and friends for support, so I thought I would ask you, my parish family, to help me out. So, I'll be in the breezeway after Mass, and I brought cookies [turn up the charm, insert persuasive smile here and yes, they laughed] and it would mean so much to me if you would stop by. Thanks so much for your time!"
I step down from the altar to thunderous applause, which I really am not expecting. Why would anyone clap after you ask them for money? But it feels quite good, to have the support of my parish like that, and I walk over to the breezeway with a huge smile on my face as my mom takes over the leading of the closing hymn.
The response of my fellow parishioners is overwhelming; scads of people come over after the final blessing to talk to me, to donate, to buy cookies, to warn me about malaria, to tell me about their family members or friends who have traveled to Africa, to ask me questions about the trip. I play the video for the trip on my laptop for everyone to see, and people are very interested, especially the children. One woman makes sure to come over to the table, press a St. Jeanne Jugan medal into my palm and encourage me to carry it with me during the trip. I love things like that. It makes me feel so connected to the Body of Christ.
After everyone had gone home, I stuff my winnings into a manila envelope and head home to count it all. The total is $843.50. Wow. At this rate I'll have enough money for sure. But I don't want to get my hopes up.
By this time I am really pretty tired from the excitement of the evening, but no rest for the wicked, I guess, because I have to bake more cookies! I sold the whole tray after the 5pm Mass and still have part of my last batch of cookie dough left to bake. I know that I need enough cookies for at least 3 more Masses and that I had sold 2/3 of 10 dozen cookies tonight. So it seems I have no choice but to make another double batch of chocolate chip cookies. I follow the same recipe, but this time I add 3 cups of flour, I lightly grease the cookie sheets, and lower the oven temperature to 350 degrees. The cookies come out looking like something from a dream. They're perfect. Now only 9 dozen more to go...
Sunday, May 23, 2010
1:30am
I finally sink into bed, exhausted. I will never bake another cookie again as long as I live.
7:00am
My alarm goes off. Gotta get up for the 8am Mass...
7:30am
I get out of bed. That snooze button...
8:10am
I leave for Mass. I get there just as the homily is beginning. Perfect. I stow my huge box of cookies under the coffee table and set up the tray and the basket for collections as per yesterday and I have time to slip into the bathroom and do my makeup before giving my talk. Actually I have more than enough time; I am done in time for the Liturgy of the Eucharist, so I sneak out into the church behind the choir section and enjoy the Consecration from a hidden spot off to the side near the tabernacle chapel, but I don't receive Communion since I didn't even make an effort to be on time to Mass. Plus, I'll be going to all the Masses today. There's no need to rush things.
The talk goes well, but no laughter; the crowd is much quieter, which I suppose is understandable since it's kind of early in the morning. Their support is unquestionable, though, as I raise another $810. And they don't eat very many cookies, also probably because it's early in the morning, so I am hopeful about my supply making it through to the 11:30 Mass.
9:15am
I settle into the pew for the 9:30 Mass. This one I am attending from start to finish, so I take some time to quiet my heart, etc, and prepare myself to receive my Maker. He is so good to us. I don't even know what to say about His generosity.
The talk goes well again. I'm beginning to sound more polished now that I've given the speech for the third time. There is no audible audience response until their applause (again!), but they are smiling. And that makes me very happy. I stay for the final blessing to seal in all those good graces I received in the Eucharist, even though I know I'll probably miss a couple of people leaving because of it. This crowd eats a lot of cookies, almost two trays full, and I raise $723.20.
I had planned on grabbing something to eat before the 11:30 Mass, but I run into an old friend of mine and we get to talking, and I am of the opinion that fellowship is more valuable than food, so I let our conversation go on for a while. It is so good to talk to her; we haven't seen each other in so long! We are both going to the 11:30 Mass, so we head into the church together and she wishes me luck.
11:30am
Another Mass, another talk. The crowd is a bit more lively, and as I step down from the altar to walk to the breezeway, I hear a cheer from the direction of my friend's family; she (or one of her sisters) is showing her support! How lovely. :)
Again, people are super supportive, giving $706. I do run out of cookies, as I had feared, but there are only a few people who don't get cookies that want them, so it's not too bad. It seems that more people are interested in giving as much as they can than those who are just interested in buying cookies. Indeed, I averaged about $14 a cookie by the end of the weekend.
1:00pm
I return home, truly exhausted now. But I know that if I fall asleep I'll be groggy for the 5pm Mass this evening. Besides, I have more cookies to bake since I ran out at the 11:30. I don't have the strength to make another batch from scratch after last night, and anyway we're out of chocolate chips by now. So I pull a Funfetti cake mix from the pantry and make sugar cookies from the mix. While they're cooling I count up my money from the first three Masses of the day, and I am extremely encouraged to find that I only need to raise about $400 more to reach $3500 which, judging from the other Masses, should be extremely doable. I am too tired to get really excited about this, plus there are cookies to be iced now. Over the course of these two days I baked somewhere around 24 dozen - 288 - cookies. Yes. I vow I will never bake again. (A vow I ended up breaking this past Friday, when I made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for the 8th grade graduation. And I liked it. Baking and I just needed to take a little break, that's all.)
5:00pm
I leave for the 5pm Mass. Since I've already been twice today there's no need for me to be on time. I touch up my makeup in the bathroom during Mass and chat with the mother of the family from Bethlehem, who have also been at all the Masses selling their wares. She and I both admit that we're doing very well, though she thinks we would have done better if we hadn't been there at the same time. I didn't say so, but I disagree. I think it's cool that we're both there at the same time. I think we bring each other business, that people who stopped in to see the olive-wood carvings maybe dropped by to buy a couple of cookies and that people who came to donate to me maybe sauntered over to her table. It's like a little fair, especially with all the science boards in the Rooney Room. Our parish is just teeming with life and love. It's fantastic, really.
My final talk of the weekend goes off without a hitch (and the more-awake 5pm crowd laughs at my persuasive cookie-making line - success!), but I am definitely breathing a sigh of relief as I walk down the altar steps for the last time. This whole ordeal has been more exhausting that I anticipated.
6:30pm
I finally head home to count everything up. All told, I raised $3865. This is plenty for the trip and probably for my airfare as well. I am hugely relieved; just this past Wednesday I had been on the phone with the director of the summer missions discussing how seriously behind I was in my fundraising. I got off the phone that afternoon thinking that, if things didn't go well this weekend, I would have to pull out of the trip. I prayed a long long litany to pretty much every saint I could think of, begging God to help me if it was His will that I go. Well, let me tell ya: if I had any doubt in my mind that He wanted me to go to Ghana before this weekend, it has certainly been erased. I skip outside where my mom is planting geraniums and tell her the good news. She is absolutely floored, and just as relieved as I am (probably more so, actually). We praise God together a little bit before I got inside to sleep!! I am seriously so tired by this point that I think I'm going to fall asleep standing up. It is so much easier for me to sleep now; cliche as it sounds, it is as though a huge weight has been lifted from my heart.
Monday, May 24, 2010
I recount all the money. When I'm done, there is a huge stack of cash sorted according to denomination and all facing the same way about as high as 5 or 6 inches. I feel like a drug dealer walking around with all that cash. Since my bank is in Harrisburg, my parents have to deposit the money in their bank account and write me a check. There's some reason that I'm with PSECU despite the distance, but I can't remember what it is...
I mail $2100 and all my paperwork for the trip to the Summer Missions Office; after this I only have another $600 due, which I obviously have now. I send an email to the leader of the missions and of my mission in particular telling them that it's all in the mail and that they'll have it by Wednesday. Phew!
The rest of the $3800 after the $2700 due to FOCUS will go towards the following:
- paying for my airfare to and from Chicago, where the flights to Ghana depart/arrive and where we'll be having a small retreat before and after to avoid culture shock both ways.
- paying for my appointment with Passport Health, my immunizations, and the malaria and anti-diarrheal medications I'll have to take while I'm there, all of which are surprisingly expensive, possibly around $1000 total. (interesting side note: the malaria meds may cause hallucinations. hahaha that should be fun when we're all taking them...)
- paying for the cost of materials for the church we're building
- donations to the Missionaries of Charity
And still the donations keep trickling in. I've received a couple of checks in the mail from the Facebook page I set up and from appeal letters I sent out. This weekend when I went to Mass a couple of people who had missed me last weekend handed me checks and cash. One woman left a card with money in it in the will call box in the parish office. Overall, the support has been quite overwhelming. I still have to write thank you notes to my donors and deposit the envelope stuffed with checks made out to me.
While you're reading, I want to send a big THANK YOU out to everyone who has donated money or remembered me in prayer or even just told me that you believed in me and my mission or showed interest. It means so much to me to have so many people holding me in their hearts as I prepare to go where He is sending me. I promise you will all be in my prayers, especially in the next couple of months.
I leave July 5th!!! Ghana, here I come!!! :D
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