Going Forth

Last: it’s a word seniors know well, especially this time of the year. It’s also a word all study abroad students can relate to with bittersweet clarity in a different capacity. While I do not yet have to process saying “see you later” to the University that has become home over the last three years, the week has come to say goodbye to a wonderful semester abroad.

For a few weeks now, I have encountered “lasts” in broad, less emotionally challenging strokes: the last weekend trip. The last time stocking up on toilet paper for our flat. But this week, the concept of “last” has become more personal and more imminent. This was my last weekend in London with the people who have become like family to me here. Yesterday, I attended my last class before becoming a Notre Dame senior. This week, I will do things like have my last coffee at my favorite café, which became the site of a lot of important things like academic assignment completions, conversations with friends, and blogging sessions.

This brings me to another big last of the week: this is my last blog post on the Go Forth ND platform.

Serving as a student blogger for Campus Ministry has been one of the most transformative experiences of my time at the University Notre Dame. As a result of this blog, I have grown in my confidence as a thinker, writer, and woman in the world. I have learned to think both critically and reflectively about events happening in my life and in the world, and I have received excellent guidance, feedback, and support in preparation for and in response to the pieces that have manifested as a result of my lived experiences. One of my friends here in London likes to talk about “living fully.” To live fully according to her definition means to truly feel alive, present, and significant in the things happening in the moment with the people there with you. This blog, the people I have met as a result of writing it, and the opportunity to engage in faith curiously, intellectually, and joyfully have shown me how to live fully.

In my final post, I would like to highlight some of my favorite posts from the 54 I have written over the past two years.

Some of my favorite posts from the fall of 2014 are about the call to relationship. In On Kinship I wrote about Fr. Greg Boyle’s visit to ND. This post was followed by one about The Call to KiNDness, in which I reflected on random acts of kindness and the self-sacrificial way in which my friends laid aside their own comfort in order to help me through the Sophomore Road Trip on a freshly broken foot. These posts (and the lessons I learned as result of the events they are based on!) have been so important in forming the foundation for future posts on relationships (and future relationships themselves), such as Loving: The Brave Choice, which is a reflection on my summer as a Notre Dame Vision Mentor-In-Faith, and the recent Thank You, Study Abroad: I Believe in Soulmates. 

In posts on the topics of liturgy and sacrament, I had the opportunity to interface with incredible resources on campus as I learned more about the vibrant Church. Some of my favorites are: an investigation of the ritual of the Sign of Peace in a two-part installation consisting of "Peace Be With You…" {Part 1} and "...And With Your Spirit. {Part 2}", a look at the sacrament of Reconciliation in When Sins Are Forgiven, a reflection on Eucharistic joy in "I Want That Bread!", and an encounter with the Communion of Saints in Images of a Communion.

A few of my favorite "call to action" posts are also related to topics in the posts listed above. These are Giving Thanks: Pray Without Ceasing, Desire: An Advent-Related Tension, The Lenten Fast (why it matters and what you can do about it), and Being Ordinary. The processes of writing these posts themselves were calls to action for me that I wanted to share with the broader ND community, my family, and friends.

One of the best topics to write about as a Notre Dame student is, of course, the spirit of Notre Dame. Posts involving the ND spiritual community are some of my very favorites to write. Highlights include Made in God's Image (a conversation with a courageous fellow student who shared her battle to love herself), "I Love It Here." (an interview with a Muslim friend who majored in theology and Notre Dame), and Family is Important. (a reflection on the simple thought that the title expresses in the context of the Notre Dame family). My favorite spirit of Notre Dame post, though, is Thank You, Father Ted. This post, which was written the day after Fr. Ted Hesburgh passed away, is incredibly special to my heart, just as Fr. Ted is to that of the Notre Dame community.

The Go Forth blog has been extremely important in my own spiritual journey. It has pushed me to see my story in a new way, and to put words to significant events in my own spiritual life. It has given me the courage and the opportunity to share these words in posts such as: On Islands: Grieving and Moving Forward, And to Dust You Shall Return: Hawaii Pilgrimage 2015, Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart, The Gift of Letting It Go: A Weekend in Bergen, and In Their Steps: Holy Week 2016. 

Finally, some of the most fun posts to write (and probably some of the most fun to read!) are those that involve creative styles beyond my usual blogging voice. These posts have challenged me to find new ways to relate events and to express thoughts. Some of them include That Magic Week (a prose piece in response to a week spent with my family in the Grand Canyon), The Most Interesting Man in the World (thoughts on why a Holy Cross priest is the real most interesting man in the world), and two collaborative posts between my fellow blogger, Megan, and I: Religious: They're Just Like Us! and What Would You Ask God?.

At the risk of sounding like I am pretending to win an award and make a big speech or something along those lines, thank you. Thank you to the Campus Ministry Communications team, to the people who I have had the privilege of interviewing and photographing, to family and friends and acquaintances and strangers who have inspired me in innumerable ways to dig deeper and think bigger and live more. Thank you to Notre Dame du Lac. & thank you most of all to you, for reading my words and for sharing in this adventure.

From here, let’s go forth in hope, to set the world on fire.

Photo taken in Cinque Terre, Italy, by Ryan Leen

Growing Together

On the morning of freshman move-in in August of 2013, we were one of the first families in the line of cars queuing up to approach my dorm. We were shepherded down Notre Dame Avenue, the Golden Dome gleaming as we passed sign after sign welcoming the ND Class of 2017 to our new home. An usher guided our car onto a sidewalk that looped around in front of my dorm. I remember being overwhelmed as I stepped into the lobby to check in, where I was greeted by joyful music and a team of some of the friendliest women I had ever met. A team of sophomore and junior Freshman Orientation leaders swept my bags upstairs in a cart while I met the senior Resident Assistant of my new section and officially checked into the dorm that would be my home over the next four years.

My first encounter with my college dorm was an important one. That morning, exceptional hospitality was extended to my parents and me. The smiling, reassuring faces, the chorus of “Welcome home,” the sense of community that permeated every action and interaction: each gesture was extremely impactful. I was still the same nervous freshman who had moved my life across the country only a few days prior, but I had the assurance of knowing I belonged here. Though it would take me a while to settle into my new space, I knew I was home.

My freshman self checking into college

Freshman Orientation Staff members bringing my belongings upstairs so my parents and I could meet Hall Staff. Did I mention their incredible cheerfulness despite the 100+ degree weather?

 

Day One under the Dome with my parents

Over the next several years, the Hall Staff and leadership team of my residence hall would continue to amaze me with their love and hospitality. Our rectress became one of my greatest role models and an excellent example and caregiver to us all. Under her leadership, the RA teams in my dorm consistently exhibited grace, poise, and energy. It did not take long for me to look at the confident, charismatic women before me and decide I wanted to be one of them.

Resident Assistants organized section and hall events, chatted and laughed with residents and with one another on rounds, and exhibited a contagious joy that set the tone for the hall. I noticed a similar pattern in other dorms where I spent time: RAs were so full of spirit and a clear desire to care for the residents in their halls. And no matter their varied interests, areas of study, activities, and hometowns, they loved Notre Dame.

The longer I spent at ND, I more recognized the job of a Resident Assistant is not always an easy one. As I grew closer to the age of the RAs around me, I began to witness bits and pieces of the tough parts of the ministry. Through the difficult emotional impact caring so deeply about one’s residents had when things were not going well and the long hours spent attending to challenging situations, the sacrificial aspect of what it means to be a Resident Assistant showed its own colors through the perfect picture I had created in my head of the RA position.

Still, they smiled. Still, they laughed. Still, they lived out the Holy Cross charism of being men and women with hope to bring. RAs attended Residence Hall Masses in community, they took a personal interest in the stories of those around them, and they enriched the campus atmosphere simply by being bold servant leaders and by loving the people they encountered each day.

The eighth Constitution of the Congregation of Holy Cross, "The Cross, Our Only Hope," comments on hope in a way that is strikingly applicable to life on the Notre Dame campus:

"Whether it be unfair treatment, fatigue or frustration at work, a lapse of health, tasks beyond talents, seasons of loneliness, bleakness in prayer, the aloofness of friends; or whether it be the sadness of our having inflicted any of this on others…there will be dying to do on our way to the Father."

There are many circumstances under which we, even as a people faithful to the Lord, may tend to waver in hope. But,

“…we do not grieve as men without hope, for Christ the Lord has risen to die no more. He has taken us into the mystery and the grace of this life that springs up from death. If we, like Him encounter and accept suffering in our discipleship, we will move without awkwardness among others who suffer. We must be men with hope to bring.”

The ministry of presence is an extremely important one to me: walking with people is one of my favorite things to do. The unique position of Resident Assistant at Notre Dame calls on men and women to engage in the very particular ministry of hopeful presence needed to cultivate our residence halls into homes. It will be my immense privilege to serve as a Resident Assistant for the 2016-2017 school year in the hall I have come to call home. It seems impossible that the freshman in the first picture above, checking into my dorm for the first time, has suddenly become old enough to serve as an RA. But I derive much hope from the fact that my Resident Assistants, who I have come to admire so much during my time at Notre Dame, probably felt the same way. This humbling reality is part of being an effective servant leader. As an RA, I hope to bring energizing joy to the residents of my dorm and to campus as a whole, just as my Resident Assistants have done for my classmates and me. I hope to successfully play my small part in creating a home where we will grow together in hope.

The Things I Carry Forth (Not Just Passport Stamps)

As I made my way through UK customs from Cinque Terre, Italy this past weekend, the officer who checked my passport asked what I have been studying during my semester in London. “I am an English and Theology double major,” I replied. “What is theology?,” she questioned, holding my gaze. I smiled and explained that I study God and religion within the Catholic tradition. She nodded, flipping through my passport, and remarked, “You’ve been doing a lot of traveling since January, haven’t you?” “I have,” I responded. “I’ve been very fortunate.” “But you’re almost done?” she asked, noting that I am scheduled to return to the U.S. at the beginning of May. I replied, “I am. It’s hard to believe!” and she handed my passport back to me, freshly stamped, and advised me to remain a student for as long as possible.

Over the course of the semester, I have become accustomed to explaining why I am where I am in removed, typically impersonal interactions with airport authorities. “I am here on vacation until Sunday” explains my purpose for entering various countries on weekend adventures, and “I am studying in University for five months from the States” clarifies my reason for re-entering the United Kingdom. Never before, though, had an officer asked me what theology is or commented on my travel schedule or offered life advice about continuing education. My interaction with this woman offered the opportunity to reflect upon several ways I have grown during this special semester studying in London.

First, my semester abroad has invited me to locate my faith on a global scale. I have attended Catholic Mass in English, Latin, Norwegian, French, and Italian this semester. I met the challenge of adapting my prayer and worship routine to the fast pace of a semester abroad, forming supportive friendships with wonderful people doing the same and being intentional about faith decisions such as choosing Lenten devotions that have supported my goals for personal growth during the semester. I had the immense privilege of attending Easter Mass at the Vatican with Pope Francis, which is perhaps the prime example of what it has meant to locate my faith on a global scale: the sheer number of pilgrims attending that Mass from all over the world was a powerful witness to the universality of the Catholic faith and the Christian spirit.

When I think back to the first Mass I attended during my semester abroad, a comment full of awe, relief, and gratitude that one of my friends made as we walked into the church stands out to me and still rings true: “No matter where we go, this liturgy is always the same.” In my first blog of the semester, I reflected on the comfort the universality of the Mass brought me after I attended that liturgy: “The same sacred liturgy is celebrated. The same Eucharist is really present. The same Body of Christ is manifest in the people gathering around the same table of the Lord. My catholic Catholic faith has rooted me in hope here in London.” Looking at my experience from the other side, only a few weeks away from my return to life in the States, I can proudly and gratefully say that by the grace of God, my catholic Catholic faith has rooted me in hope here this semester. Yes, in London, and also in the world. My brief conversation about theology with the customs officer reminded me how important it has been for me to encounter Christ in all sorts of different ways wherever I have traveled and in everyone I have met.

Second, traveling in Europe with incredible people has been an invaluable gift. The customs officer was right: I have been traveling to a different country almost every weekend since January, and I have had the opportunity to explore London, England in between weekends and spring break trips. My friends and I often talk about how we want to “live into” each new place we explore, which involves really seeing, tasting, smelling, hearing, and feeling a place. Fortunately, I have been blessed by wonderful people with which to do so in London and beyond.

Third, I have had the opportunity to learn in and from the world. Not only have I been blessed with the immense gift of going to school in a truly global city and taken various classes that focus on the history of the people and places of London, but I have also come to call Europe my classroom. Education has occurred on an unprecedented level both in terms of volume and impact this semester. I learned about World War II in Berlin and Prague by attending tours through areas where the events I have learned about in history books for years actually happened. I walked through centuries of world history preserved around every corner in Rome. I have discovered how to regularly communicate with people who do not speak English and how to conduct transactions and conversions in the pound, euro, Norwegian krone, Czech koruna, and Hungarian forint. This list is truly inexhaustible: the ways I have grown personally and intellectually from having the opportunity to throw myself entirely into a semester of learning-saturated adventure is an incredible gift I will carry with me forever. After this semester, it will be impossible not to follow the advice of the customs officer: I will be devoted to remaining a student for the rest of my life, whether in school or in the world.

Though our conversation lasted for all of three minutes, the customs officer at UK Border Control gifted me with a framework through which to reflect on my semester abroad. I am so grateful for each moment here: each new challenge, lesson, city, and person are gifts I will carry with me when I return home in May. The opportunities to locate my faith on a global scale, to explore Europe with fantastic friends, and to learn in and from the world have shaped me in powerful ways that will continue to challenge and energize me for the rest of my life.

 

Vernazza, Cinque Terre, Italy