Brian Vander Heiden, CVV 21, has a passion to serve others which has allowed him to continue his vital work as a vocational specialist.  Beyond his work, Brian has several gifts such as  singing, exploring theology, playing basketball and even cracking a joke or two.  His concern for others is evident in the way he takes time to be with, to companion, people as they walk their journeys.

More Than Just a Job

When I started in employment services at Denver Urban Ministries (Brian’s CVV placement site), I believed my sole mission was to find my clients a job, or rather any job so that they could pay their living expenses. Afterall, most of the individuals I worked with were living on the streets, in shelters, or in halfway houses, and therefore, what I thought my clients really needed was to secure an income so they could pay for an apartment, food, clothing, transportation, etc… If they could pay for their basic needs, they would be self-sufficient and happy, right? 

 

About halfway during my CVV year, the employment services coordinator of Samaritan House, Tom, invited me to tour the organization. While showing me the shelter’s large kitchen, Tom told me that his staff trained guests in culinary skills to provide a pathway to meaningful, dignified work. Tom’s words struck a chord with me; it was the first time I had thought of work as being purposeful rather than being for the purpose of paying for something else. Work was not just a means to an economic end, but something that could be life-giving and lead to personal fulfillment.

 

Four years removed from my encounter with Tom, I find his words ring more true everyday. During my time in employment services, I have witnessed some of the amazing benefits that come from meaningful work.  Individuals have transitioned from isolation to having a strong community and network of support from their workplace. A sense of purpose and accomplishment in a job has helped some people navigate the challenges of mental illness. Companies promoting and training their workers to take on new responsibilities have given many people the sense that someone believes in them. Meaningful work has helped many people realize they can accomplish much more than they ever thought they could.

 

Regarding the dignity of work, Catholic Social Teaching emphasizes that “work is more than a way to  make a living; it is a form of continuing participation in God’s creation” (USCCB.org). When we find meaning in our daily work, we become co-facilitators of God’s vision that we continually grow into the best people we can be. While our job does not have to be synonymous with our vocation, it should be more than an action of economic necessity. As a Vincentian community, we should be mindful that our current era marked by unjust labor conditions and obsession with profit is not God’s vision for the world. A society that prioritizes the development of its citizens’ abilities and opportunities is much more in alignment with God’s desire for human flourishing. 

 

 

 

TRAIL LEGS

Seventeen years after CVV, Kate Lucas, reflects on how CVV allowed her to live her values in one place and how she is incorporating those in her life today.  Kate served at the Conflict Center and has been the only volunteer to play piano at Heart and Soul.  Enjoy her gift of writing! 

 

A few weeks ago, I went backpacking with a group of college friends on the Superior Hiking Trail. The trip was a celebration of my friend Anna’s 40^th birthday, the first of all of our 40^th birthdays. But we were all a bit skittish about it. All of us were a bit worried about the cold, the forecasted rain, how our bodies would hold up on trail carrying all our supplies on our backs.

Maybe we were a bit skittish about turning 40, too. It had been a long time since many of us had done a hiking trip like this. That fact in and of itself was surprising and sobering.

Needless to say, I have been thinking about numbers and time a lot lately. Last year marked 20 years since my high school graduation. CVV celebrated its 25th anniversary in September. And it’s been seventeen years since I moved into the south house at Woody’s place, taking in those powder blue walls, that afternoon sun streaming through the window. How is that possible? How can nearly two decades pass that quickly?

The numbers remind me acutely of a truth that has always been there: time is limited. Oh so limited. The time we have to make a difference. To live the life we want. To create the kind of world we long for.

Thinking back on my year at CVV, I remember the distinct feeling, deep in my bones, that I was exactly where I needed to be. In college, I had studied peace and justice, liberation theology, simple living, the Catholic Worker movement. At CVV, it felt like we were living all of that out. The Vincentian charism of companionship with the poor. Gleaning our food. Paring down our possessions. At a gut level, all of it made sense and felt right.

I’m not sure I’ve felt that degree of certainty — that purity of vision — since.

Some might say that simply reflects a maturing of a young person’s one-pointed idealism. Adulthood, it was explained to me once, means holding two or more conflicting ideas at once and being okay with that dissonance — recognizing the ambivalence and imperfection at the heart of life, realizing the fallacy and rigidity of pure idealism.

Whatever the reason, it’s true that for a while in my late 20s and early 30s, working full-time at a nonprofit, then teaching writing at a community college, I let some of my ideals slide. For a while, it felt like I was maxed out. Reaching a state of burn-out. For a while, I didn’t have time for volunteering. I began picking up more take-out instead of preparing whole foods at home, buying new clothes instead of hunting at thrift stores, streaming TV instead of seeking out more life-giving, community-building activities.

Recent years have been about coaxing myself back. Figuring out how to slow down. Learning  how to modulate my energy and time so that I have enough left for things that are important: community, volunteering, wellness, the Earth. I work from home now, less than full time, as a freelance writer for nonprofits. I practice yoga regularly, even teach a class. I tend a garden, and cook more frequently. And I volunteer again, teaching poetry at a day center for elderly people, working on several projects for racial equity, calling my senators regularly for the Citizens Climate Lobby.

More and more, I am pulled back to ideas about how to downsize, how to do more with less. More and more, I seek out people who are finding ways to create a richer, fuller life that is also good for the earth. People like Kate Weiner, founder of Loam Magazine, William Powers, author of 12 x 12: A One-Room Cabin Off the Grid and Beyond the American Dream, and Elizabeth Willard Thames, of The Frugalwoods.

Toward the end of our hiking trip, my friends and I paused for lunch at the top of the last peak. It was a broad, stunning view. Lake Superior glittered and stretched to the horizon in one direction, ridges of flaming leaves unfurled in the other. I sighed with a measure of satisfaction. Good trail food, feet airing out, warm sun on my face. “I love the later days of a hiking trip,” I said, “when you’ve already ate some of the heavier food, and you’re used to your pack, and you feel a bit stronger. It’s like you have your trail legs under you.”

“Maybe that’s what this time of life is,” said Anna. “You have your trail legs under you.” Maybe so. By now, we’ve recognized a few wrong turns and stepped back on the path. By now, we’ve lightened our load, more clear about what’s vital and what’s excess. By now, we have a much better sense of where we’re headed.

It’s not that the trail will necessarily get easier — it may well get much more difficult. Climate change may be huge climb in the years ahead. Hopefully, though, our trail legs will give us the strength and flexibility to lead the way. I hope the same for all the Companions on the Journey.

November 2019-Mary Arczynski

October 2019-25th Anniversary Reflection by Mary Frances & Bill Jaster

September 2019 – Allison Duber

July 2019 -Border Update

June 2019 – Matthew Norris

May 2019—Lauren Franklin

2019 Lenten Reflection

April 2019—Rachael Klos

March 2019 – Haley Todd

February 2019 – Jenny Jordan

January 2019 – Chris Morgan

October 2018 – Jeff Peterson

September 2018 – Allison Duber

August 2018 – Patrick Kluesener

July 2018 – Humberto Camarena

June 2018 – Erin Casey-DaCosta

May 2018 – Reflections from the CVV Blind Cafe Experience

2018 Lenten Reflections

March 2018 – Jen Gordon

February 2018 – Jenna Carbone

January 2018 – Katie Kerr

December 2017 – Maura Martin

November 2017 – Katie Cassady

October 2017 – Tara Williams

September 2017 – Kristen Gittinger

August 2017 – Chris Morgan

July 2017 – Cathryn Dutton

June 2017 – Joel Cassady

May 2017 – Elizabeth Lent

Holy Week and April 2017 – Sarah Ault

Lent 2017 Week 5 – Heather McCormack

Lent 2017 Week 4 – Michael Thomson

Lent 2017 Week 3 – Josie Johnson

Lent 2017 Week 2 – Christy (Titus) Thomson

Lent 2017 Week 1 – Diane Smith

February 2017 – Cassie Price

January 2017 – Dan Walsh

December 2016 – Shaughnessy Miller

November 2016 – Nikki Murillo and Kara Schmitt

October 2016 – Lynne Baumann

September 2016 – Brian Sheehan

August 2016 – John Taylor

July 2016 – Katie Cassady

June 2016- Jenna Carbone

May 2016- Tara (Bradley) Williams

April 2016- Alyson Hankwitz

March 2016- Kyle Earlywine

February 2016- Erin Kennedy

January 2016- Josh Wise

December 2015- Alison Mercier

November 2015- Mary (O’Neill) McManus

October 2015- Mallorie Gerwitz

September 2015- Christy (Titus) Thomson

August 2015- Chris Morgan

July 2015- Casey Sharp

June 2015- Jennay Smith

 

 

 Fr. Tom Nelson and Mary Arczynski pose for a selfie at the 25th Anniversary celebration

 

Mary Arczynski was part of CVV year 21 when she first encountered Fr. Tom Nelson.  With her poetic writing she is able to draw on his deep love of his most precious gifts in his life-the many relationships he had.  During this month of All Soul’s, Mary expresses the deep impression that Fr. Tom left on all of our hearts.  Let us celebrate Fr. Tom for ALL that he was to all of us!

 

 

In Memory of Father Tom Nelson, A Man Who Deeply Loved Us

Mary Arczynski

“The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen

awareness of the interdependence of all these

living beings, which are all part of one another, and

all involved in one another.”

Thomas Merton

 

a wave of your hand

base of left, front shoulder blade

your hand flows like the rising sun

and sets as a swoop of deep light on us

 

Father Tom,

you reminded us that we are the gifts

as is the wafer

one, the body of Jesus

the other, the body of the Church

 

Father Tom,

you reminded us that we are loved purely because we are

because I AM

because, we are images of God

and therefore, images of one another

 

Father Tom,

you reminded us that we belong to one another

for it is your love alone

that we could do or be anything

you reminded us that loving everyone makes a difference, matters

 

you reminded us that there is a God of joy

that laughter is the musical Spirit that God gave all of us

that beauty should be saved like pressed flowers in a bible

that creation is also the Word

 

“Love is our true destiny.

We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone-

we find it with another.”

Thomas Merton

Thomas Nelson

 

*Quotes included from Thomas Merton and partial quote from Saint Vincent de Paul

 

 

 

Reflections of 25 Years of Colorado Vincentian Volunteers

Mary Frances & Bill Jaster

Who would have known more than 25 years ago that we would be here together, celebrating 25 years of Colorado Vincentian Volunteers with friends we knew before 25 years ago and SO MANY friends we have gained over these last 25 years!  It is such a blessing to be here!  Thank you.  And thank you not only for being here tonight, but thank you for being HERE, here in this community that IS CVV.  Everyone who is here tonight and all those who were not able to be here physically, and those who are still yet to come, truly ARE CVV. This is the greatest lesson we have learned over our 40+ years of ministry.  CVV has become a symbol of the true meaning of the Body of Christ, mystical and very physically present, all at once.  It is amazing to look out over this crowded room and to realize this Body of Christ. You are amazing.

We feel a need to apologize for reading our reflection with you.  Several months ago, a wise woman on our Program Committee said, “I want to hear about your journey, your conversion over these last 25 years.”  (Margaret was so wise we decided to hire her.)   And as we told her, we are not really “keynote speaker types,” so thanks for your patience.  We will also ask you to participate and to recognize your own connections and insights that are absolutely part of this journey.

We have realized over the last few months what a task it is to put all of it into words.  So this is a very incomplete picture of how CVV has transformed us. This brought us to look up the word “transformation,” which states: Noun: a thorough or dramatic change in form or appearance; a marked change in form, nature, or appearance; a process by which one figure, expression, or function is converted to another. (You can see we have a few more gray hairs, and we have snacked on some gleaned bagels.)  For us, transformation truly has happened year by year, and we discovered long ago that if we are not being challenged, trying to change and grow, we not only become stagnant, but our community and organization can become stagnant as well. So here goes.

When we started CVV in 1994, we had discussed the proposition of it with several groups before we came to the Vincentians.  And then, we were just sitting there and talking over a beer at a St. Thomas Seminary Bizarre with Tom Esselman, who is here tonight.  He said, “That sounds like something we might be interested in helping to form.  Let’s take it to our Provincial Council.”  Long story short, they approved the proposal and with the financial backing, the seeds of the charism, and the encouragement of the Midwest Province of the Congregation of the Mission to make this a community supported Non-profit, CVV began.  It would not have happened without them.  And we would not be standing here today as Vincentians ourselves without CVV, which over these 25 years has become Vincentian and is still becoming Vincentian.

Then came the task of creating staff and interviewing Vincentian priests, one of whom would be our chaplain.  Little did we know that priests were not accustomed to interviews, but it was so clear in that process that we wanted Tom Nelson to join us in those beginning years to create CVV.  Little did we know how different Tom’s and our experiences were, which became a huge gift in the creation of CVV, and which, we all three can attest to, brought the struggles that helped to lay the foundation. It is so true that the pain and the struggles are so worth it when we are able to work through them, listen to one another and glean what we can so that we can come to decisions based in the mission.  Tom introduced to us the Constitutions and Statutes of the Congregation of the Mission, written in part with the help of Hugh O’Donnell, who is also with us tonight. 

These Constitutions truly led Tom to the Vincentians, and they have become a guide that grounds not only us, but each group of volunteers throughout these 25 years.  We use these 6 characteristics every year as the volunteer group creates their goals and objectives for the year, and we are using them today to share our conversion story.

     1. Clear and expressed preference for the apostolate among the poor, so that their evangelization is the sign that the kingdom of God is present on earth. CVV is based on 4 components or pillars:  Spirituality and Prayer, Community Life, Reflection and Discussion on the Gospel, and Direct Service and Advocacy.  This last one is all about being with people who are living in poverty and are marginalized.  It is this core pillar for which the other 3 are in place. It is central to the CVV mission.

We believe that we must be grounded with the poor: with the poor part of ourselves, with people experiencing economic poverty, with people experiencing marginalization because of disabilities or mental or physical health concerns, with people who are rejected by the culture as having no worth or no voice or no dignity. They are at the core, and knowing them and recalling our relationship with them continues to ground us, from our early experiences of SPLUNGE (Special People Living a Uniquely Nourishing and Growthful Experience, an urban retreat for high school students) to our mission in Central America and at Casa Juan Diego in Houston;  from our interactions with local non-profits who are working directly with people who are marginalized to the volunteers themselves.  What does this look like practically?  When we are faced with a million choices set in front of us (which phone to get, what plants to put in our garden, what house to buy, what clothes to wear, etc.) we can picture Jorge and Silvia in El Progresso, Honduras, and recall the very few choices they have.  When we learn of St. Vincent dePaul’s regret at the end of his life, “I do not know the name of a poor person,” we can try to continue building relationships with them, we can continue to look for the person in our midst. Bishop Ken Untener once said, “To find the poor you must go out of your way.  You must look with different eyes, for the poor feel we do not want them in the normal parts of our lives.”  When we are complaining about picking up our friend Manuel at the bus station, realizing that we have a “busy” schedule, we must be reminded of how we need him in our lives,  how we need each relationship to remind us not only of who we are, but of who God is.

Let us pause for a few moments, and think about those we know who experience poverty and marginalization and simply call them by name.

     2. Attention to the realities of present-day society, especially to the factors that cause an unequal distribution of the world’s goods, so that we can better carry out our prophetic task of evangelization.  As we were reflecting on this presentation, we remembered that when our country took an economic dive downward, CVV grew to two communities. We grew because the need was greater than ever. And we grew because people like all of you believe in young people with their ideals,  energy, fire and passion, and you continued to support us and all of the placements where volunteers work. 

It also means trying to keep in tune with the different generations of young people over these 25 years.  The pioneers of the first year were on fire to serve and to respond to a call for social justice.  25 years later, we hear some new motivations, such as a need to respond to the environmental crisis, a need to be more grounded in our faith.  Throughout these many years and alongside the speed of growth with technology, paying attention to the realities of our time has become more and more critical. 

How does this affect our conversion? We once heard that working with young people can keep you young.  Not so sure about that, but working with young people can keep opening new avenues, new inventions, new motivations, new perspectives, new questions that must be part of the ongoing growth and transformation of CVV. When we started CVV we didn’t have email, digital stories, Facebook, and these were not automatic additions for us. We also learned that we must realize how to keep the elements of our program that truly ground us in the mission  of inviting Young Adults into a process of transformation through companionship with people who live in poverty and are marginalized.

Hopefully, experiences along the way of dealing with volunteers who are struggling at their worksites, of getting pushback from 22-year-olds (isn’t that what they are supposed to do?), of trying to decide on a guideline or a rule for the houses, of having to come to the decision to ask someone to leave, of reviewing evaluations from volunteers who sometimes struggled more than we knew at the time, of sharing with one another the loss of life… hopefully, all of these experiences have given us more opportunities to empathize and to be humbled by the privileges that we have.  We must recognize these privileges, acknowledge them, act on them, recognize the opportunity for growth, and, at times, reconcile and seek forgiveness for them.

It’s interesting to think that during these 25 years, we have first been:   younger than the volunteers’ parents, then their parents’ age, and now more their grandparents’ age.  What does that say to us about transformation?!

Let us pause for a moment and think about the realities of today and what issues we must pay attention to so as to better respond.

     3.  Some sharing in the condition of the poor, so that not only will we attend to their evangelization, but that we ourselves may be evangelized by them. We MUST be evangelized by them. We MUST open ourselves to receive the loaf of bread that “the other” has to offer. We must hold up a mirror as we look at our neighbors, our brothers and sisters, our friends. AND, we must look at our lifestyle.  This is perhaps one of the hardest for us to talk about tonight, because we are so blessed to have so much: family members who are healthy and loving, our home and all that is in it, our jobs, our cars, the  opportunities for travel, our community, the list goes on. And what we constantly try to do is to recognize all as gift and to detach from each one, while at the same time to be inspired by others who are truly living life so simply that others may simply live, inspiring us to detach more and more.

            We have also realized over time that the young adult men and women who come to be part of CVV are witnessing to us this value of sharing in the condition of the poor, are witnessing to us the value of simplicity, are witnessing and reminding us of what they have to offer, and how “they must forgive us the bread that we give them.”  They have helped us to truly understand that we are all poor and that realizing that fact is realizing what Vincent DePaul meant when he evangelized so as to be evangelized.

Let us pause to reflect for a moment on how we are sharing in some condition of the poor, or how we are called to share in the condition of the poor.

     4.  Genuine community spirit in all our apostolic works, so that we may be supported by one another in our common vocation.  Perhaps at the core of this is our little community: our family, our relationship with each other, our children Sean and Katie who come along into this ministry.  As our co-worker Ryan can attest to, our early morning “walks and talks” are at the heart of how we process our ministry, of what we struggle with, of what we bring to the table. Our family relationship creates the grounding for us to do this for these 25 years. Monday night dinners become our family dinners, which Katie so often helps us to remember through her presence and her insistence on being here.  So many of our colleagues who work in other programs throughout the country face burn-out (what is burnout?) before they have the beautiful opportunity and the privilege to see so many of the fruits of our labors.  When alum come back and share the amazing things they are doing, the amazing families they raise, the amazing insights they have into their work, we are truly humbled.  Often when you alum return, you remember those long Mondays with appreciation for the reflection and the intentionality that were integral to our Reflection  & Discussion times, and you forget about the tiredness or the now-and-then questions about why we are doing this.  (Maybe this is when you realize why we love Theological Reflections! 

            And we are deeply humbled and we recognize our poverty through the gifts of the broader community that makes up CVV, through the staff (shout out to Adrienne who helps balance the books), through the generosity of donors, people who cook, people who serve on committees, people who give us advice, people who repair things at the houses (and we even once in a while bring an extension cord or lamp from home to fix!).  We are humbled and grateful to know that we cannot do this alone.  We gain new perspectives on businesses that offer their services to us, on Foundations that have a profound impact on services to marginalized people, on local parishes and pastors and communities of priests and sisters who have led the way for this lay organization to be created. One transformation we have experienced is a deepened understanding and awareness of gratitude.

Let us pause a few moments and recognize those who are part of each of our communities and be thankful for them.

     5.  Readiness to go to any part of the world, according to the example of the first missionaries of the Congregation. We are, and have always been, part of something bigger, part of something beyond the walls at 1732 and 1544 Pearl. The opportunity to travel and to be part of MISEVI, which is a collaborative group of Vincentian mission programs, gifts us with a broader view.   The privilege of studying Vincent in France is part of that gratitude and that bigger world, bigger community, broader perspective that has shaped our world, be it Kenya or 5-points, Capitol Hill or Honduras, Swansea or Guatemala, LoDo or Mexico; all the privileged places we have been help to shape a wider view and a readiness to go anywhere, which for us continues to be Denver.   And it offers us a view of the readiness of these young men and women to come to Denver and to have this place as their “anywhere” to serve.

            As we look back on these 25 years and more, we realize that each step of the way, each yes to the here and now, each time we made a change led to the next and led us to be HERE.  That call to “anywhere” is really to HERE.

Let us pause and think of the places that have formed us.

     6.  Striving to live in a state of continuous conversion, both on the part of each individual member and on the part of the whole Congregation, according to St. Paul, who counsels us:  “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.”  This is perhaps the crux of all of these characteristics.  When we are continuously opening ourselves to new perspectives, to voices of the voiceless, to reflecting on the “whys” of what we encounter so as to gain from the “wise” who surround us, to the struggles of seeing things differently than the person I am working with and we embrace the struggles along the way, we see that we are led to more creativity, to understanding that  “none of us is as smart as all of us,” to the realization of how our brothers and sisters (literally) are part of this messiness and this total conversion. 

So, we are grateful for the opportunity to begin this reflection on transformation.  Begin, because it must be an ongoing reflection that hopefully will ultimately lead us to truly understand what Tom Nelson reminds us:  we are radically dependent on God.  We are grateful for the holy ground of these 25 years. We are grateful for each and every person who makes CVV what it is, and for all those who ground us in what Vincent shared, “Go to the poor and you will find God.”

 

 

Temporary Bliss

Allison Duber,  CVV 23, went on a pilgrimage this past summer with five other CVV alum.  The pilgrimage was 1000 miles walking from Rome to Marburg over 58 days!  Can you imagine what that would be like?  Read her beautiful reflection below to get an idea of her transformative experience on the pilgrimage.

There are 10 days left of this pilgrimage and I am finally understanding what Job was talking about when he said, “For we were born but yesterday and know nothing. Our days on earth are as fleeting as a shadow.”

Everyday in pilgrim land goes by so fast. By the time I make it to the church, it is time to unpack my bag, wash up, clean my clothes, eat dinner, and set up for bed.

The constant movement from when I wake up in the morning until I lay down at night has made it too easy for my brain to squish days together and forget what even happened an hour ago.

There is so much seeing and doing and meeting and exploring and processing and never enough time to let it all sink in. There is really nothing to hold on to except the memory at the end of each day.

I am a passing shadow to whoever I meet.

I am there and then I am not.

It pains me that I cannot stay as long as I want in villages, but being a pilgrim is not about being a tourist. Ann told me that tourists come to see what he/she wants to see and a pilgrim comes to see what is there…end of story.

And I love meeting new friends here, but it can only be brief. I am not granted the gift to continue the friendship after that moment. It is temporary.

I remember back to the first couple days of this pilgrimage and how daunting it was to realize there were hundreds of miles ahead. It was like I was just learning how to walk.

But it has taken me this long to realize that this pilgrimage IS NOT ABOUT THE WALKING.

Ann always says that a silent pilgrim does the world no good. When we meet people along the way, she encourages us to tell them about our pilgrimage, where we are going, and why we choose to walk. If we do not share what we are doing to other people, then what’s the point?

Being on pilgrimage has taught me that everything I do here can translate into my life when I get back home. When I meet people at home, I can share who I am and my purpose for what I do and it just makes connection with other people so much richer.

Although it has taken me a while to understand a lot about myself and the world during this pilgrimage, I do not want to get to the end of my life and finally understand.

I want to get it now and live fully alive and not miss a beat. I am already 24, one year away from 1/4 of a century. My life is going by so fast, and I do not want to waste it.

I need to do the things that scare me and not be afraid of failure. If this trip has taught me anything it is that there is really no way to get lost if I keep moving.

I just have to remember:

No place will ever feel like a true home until heaven.

AND

No friendship or relationship will ever give me full and lasting satisfaction until I’m with my Father in heaven.

Throughout my years, I definitely have had temporary times of amazing happiness, joy, and peace. But it does not always last forever and that is okay. This time on earth is only but a shadow, so what are we gonna do with it?

 

July 2019 -Border Update

June 2019 – Matthew Norris

May 2019—Lauren Franklin

2019 Lenten Reflection

April 2019—Rachael Klos

March 2019 – Haley Todd

February 2019 – Jenny Jordan

January 2019 – Chris Morgan

October 2018 – Jeff Peterson

September 2018 – Allison Duber

August 2018 – Patrick Kluesener

July 2018 – Humberto Camarena

June 2018 – Erin Casey-DaCosta

May 2018 – Reflections from the CVV Blind Cafe Experience

2018 Lenten Reflections

March 2018 – Jen Gordon

February 2018 – Jenna Carbone

January 2018 – Katie Kerr

December 2017 – Maura Martin

November 2017 – Katie Cassady

October 2017 – Tara Williams

September 2017 – Kristen Gittinger

August 2017 – Chris Morgan

July 2017 – Cathryn Dutton

June 2017 – Joel Cassady

May 2017 – Elizabeth Lent

Holy Week and April 2017 – Sarah Ault

Lent 2017 Week 5 – Heather McCormack

Lent 2017 Week 4 – Michael Thomson

Lent 2017 Week 3 – Josie Johnson

Lent 2017 Week 2 – Christy (Titus) Thomson

Lent 2017 Week 1 – Diane Smith

February 2017 – Cassie Price

January 2017 – Dan Walsh

December 2016 – Shaughnessy Miller

November 2016 – Nikki Murillo and Kara Schmitt

October 2016 – Lynne Baumann

September 2016 – Brian Sheehan

August 2016 – John Taylor

July 2016 – Katie Cassady

June 2016- Jenna Carbone

May 2016- Tara (Bradley) Williams

April 2016- Alyson Hankwitz

March 2016- Kyle Earlywine

February 2016- Erin Kennedy

January 2016- Josh Wise

December 2015- Alison Mercier

November 2015- Mary (O’Neill) McManus

October 2015- Mallorie Gerwitz

September 2015- Christy (Titus) Thomson

August 2015- Chris Morgan

July 2015- Casey Sharp

June 2015- Jennay Smith

 

 

Border Experiences written by CVV 24 Volunteers-Mary Adam, Monica Amador, Hosanna Fortmeyer, and Morgan Neal

Hope Found at the Border

HOPE. Hope is the desire for something and the confidence in the possibility of its fulfillment.

If I learned anything from those we encountered at the border, it would be Hope.  a woman from El Salvador came into a make-shift shelter in El Paso with her little boy who was maybe 1 to 2 years of age.  I asked how she got here; it honestly didn’t hit me until then to ask that question. How do people travel from country to country? Some of the others in the room had said they had bussed through Mexico; this woman, however, said she did the journey on foot, all the way from El Salvador. I was struck by this. To think that not too long ago she was walking through Mexico to end up here in the U.S. seeking asylum; seeking refuge and a better life for her and her son.

It’s a 3-day hike from northern Mexico to El Paso.

Imagine 470 refugees dropped off by ICE on Friday and 530 refugees on Saturday? That’s 1,000 human beings leaving their homes in search for something better with no guarantees.

Picture this, $15 dollars earned for a day’s worth of work: $10 to save $5 to live on.

90 kids a day rely on 1 safe haven, Cristina’s “library” in Anapra

10,000 pesos a year to raise a family, but in reality, they’ll make 2,000 pesos

Factory workers make 80 pesos to 180 pesos a day with only 10 minutes for breakfast and 20 minutes for lunch. They have to put in a year of work before they receive 8 days vacation.  BUT they wait an additional 6 months before they’re allowed those vacation days.

I wonder, is that what our government does? Is that what Mexico’s government does? Somehow turn their own people’s lives and realities into numbers so they never see the faces.

But these people aren’t just numbers. There are stories attached to each and every one of them. Just like the hundreds of human beings leaving their homes in search of something better. They have a story to tell, and it’s about time we all listen.

One of the hotels serving as a hospitality center needed food to give out to the migrants. We furiously assembled PB&Js and bags of pretzels.  When we arrived at the hotel, we brought the food inside and saw a line of people in the hallway, standing or sitting against the wall, keeping a close hold on their children. They had ankle monitors on. I felt like all of them turned to us with the same look, the same eyes- big and hesitant and questioning. But smiling or greeting them would produce an immediate change in their demeanor- light came into their eyes, a flash of a smile, a nod of the head. I felt it go straight to my heart each time. “God,” I thought, “please help us do right by these people.”

That’s where that experience could have ended, was it not for a boy of about eight years old who was playing with a soccer ball in the parking lot. Felipe. Felipe had big brown eyes, a bright white smile, quick feet, and a shy manner that you felt could be a little swagger-y if you got to know him more.  We won’t know where he went after the hotel, how much of his life will be in the U.S., or if very soon his lightheartedness and fun would give way to fear and uncertainty. But that memory of playing soccer in the parking lot is a very special one for me, and brings back the feelings of joy, connection, and hope I felt in a place where I didn’t necessarily expect to find them. “Lord, help us to see the migrants as our neighbors, and to love them as ourselves.” 

I was constantly struck by many cots were lined up next to each other. I heard shouts in the air to make sure that families would be able to be together overnight. I kept thinking about how my clients at Lutheran Family Services in Denver felt going through this. This wasn’t a refugee camp, but they saw similar situations. The lucky asylum seekers saw this situation. All the beds lined up next to each other made me think of the classically referenced aerial photos of the white tents lined up in refugee camps.

When the sister pulled open a kitchen cupboard door, there were shelves filled with utensils and little things that clutter up a kitchen over time. I couldn’t stop staring at all the big plastic serving spoons. I just kept thinking about how much poverty there was concentrated in this little corner of the world and how many resources must have gone into all the spoons. I was struck by the fact that in the midst of this poverty, there was something so in abundance. But also by the fact that there are so many more important things in life rather than stockpiles of things.   

We don’t know the rest of their stories. We don’t know the beginning or the end. We don’t know specifically what they were escaping or what they were hoping for here. However, there is no doubt that they have hope. Why else would they even begin this long unknown path? For them to even think of starting this journey there must have been something inside telling them that there is something greater out there; to embark on this long and no doubt torturous path, there was a light of HOPE leading them to a seemingly better life.   

 

Matthew & Mary celebrating their wedding with their CVV Community

Experiencing the Holy Spirit

Matthew has a lot of experience with full time volunteer programs.  Before coming to CVV, Matthew, did a year of service at Amate House, and after CVV, he worked at the Jesuit Volunteer Corp.  During his CVV year, Matthew, served at the St. Francis Center.  Currently, he and his wife (Mary, CVV 20) live in Denver.  Matthew graduated from St Edwards in Austin so don’t be surprised if you see him wearing cowboy boots.

 

“When the time for Pentecost was fulfilled, they were all in one place together. And suddenly there came from the sky a noise like a strong driving wind, and it filled the entire house in which they were. Then there appeared to them tongues as of fire, which parted and came to rest on each one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in different tongues, as the Spirit enabled them to proclaim.”  Acts 2: 1-4

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, on your own intelligence do not rely.”  Proverbs 3:5

Do you trust in the Lord?  Do you question when terrible things happen, or when seemingly everything goes wrong?  Frequently, I find myself lacking trust in God, and while my faith is strong, active, and participatory, I know that God is calling me to trust more in the presence of the Holy Spirit.  If you look at the state of our country, the world, or perhaps even reflect on your own life, this is easier said than done.  What would happen, however, if we had faith that could indeed move mountains?  Could we speak in tongues as the Apostles did at Pentecost?  Would we waiver when challenged by friends or family on societal issues, abuse in the Catholic Church, or why we believe what we do?  While I have never spoken in tongues I have had a moment, rather my family has, that upon reflection, the Holy Spirit had certainly been present and guiding us.  Confidently, I can proclaim, the Holy Spirit was in that room, that Divine Providence guided us on our journey.  Sharing that story with you speaks witness to the Holy Spirit very present in our world.

This past April marked the one year anniversary of the death of my younger brother, Owen.  On Thanksgiving Day 2017, Owen was brought to the Emergency Room, and after a few days of tests, it was discovered that he had a brain tumor.  Coupled with an immune condition, ITP, that greatly reduced his platelet counts, Owen spent the next several weeks in the hospital.  Christmas that year was spent there, yet Owen was still able to lead prayer before our meal together.  Eventually, Owen transitioned home, and his attitude was one of gratitude and trust.  Owen knew the Holy Spirit, and he became a witness of the Spirit present today.  Fast forward to April 2018 and another tumor had grown.  On April 19, 2018, I received a call to come home, Owen was on a breathing tube, and while there is no guarantee, they could keep him comfortable until people arrived.

My fiancé, now wife, Mary, and I took a flight that night and drove two hours to Cleveland.  Later that day, we went to the hospital and had several hours with my family, and Owen.  We prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet, as well as other prayers. We had a moment to say goodbye.  Around 7 p.m. that Friday, April 20, the breathing tube was removed.  Comfortable still, Owen continued to breath for a few hours.  We continued to pray, hold each closely, and comfort each other as needed.  Approximately three hours after we removed the breathing tube, my mother, while sitting on his side, holding his hand, asked, “Does anyone want to read Psalm 23?” 

Mary pulled up the Psalm on her phone and I began to read, “The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I lack.  In green pastures he makes me lie down; to still waters he leads me.” 

As I began to read one of Owen’s doctors walked in, and I paused.  Around the same time, Owen’s breathing suddenly changed, and he led out a long exhale.  Silence.  We gathered around his bedside and I continued.

“He restores my soul. He guides me along right paths for the sake of his name. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff comfort me. You set a table before me in front of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Indeed, goodness and mercy will pursue me all the days of my life; I will dwell in the house of the Lord for endless days.”

April 20, 2018 Owen went home to a merciful, loving, God.  The following week we shared the story of his passing.  It still gives me chills, not because of great suddenness in losing my young brother, but because of the powerful experience in that hospital room.  What prompted my mother to ask if anyone would read Psalm 23?  What allowed smooth and immediate travel from Denver, Atlanta, and southern Ohio for his siblings to be present, and equally important, to comfort our parents?  God was present in every moment of Owen’s journey, and the Holy Spirit was with us the night he died.  On Holy Saturday, April 20, this year, my family and I went to the Easter Vigil mass.  During the celebration, the Priest consecrated bread and wine into the body and blood of Jesus Christ at nearly the same time Owen died one year earlier.  Lent had ended, Christ had risen!  He is now our Advocate, and will be with us always (John 14:16).   

Though we may not all have such beautiful moments of the Holy Spirit with us, may sharing it with you be witness of the Holy Spirit very much present in the world today.  Circling back to my introductory questions, however, why do I still not trust?  God has shown me that He resides in our world, and is with us always.  Therefore, I must be witness to this presence.  We have daily opportunities to be witness of Christ to others.  In the workplace, with our friends, and yes, even when suffering, tragedy, or death surrounds us, we can bear witness to Christ’s resurrection.  This encompasses true Christianity, true discipleship.  Perhaps if I did this more, if we all did this more, our country, and world, would not be so divided?

However, I can only speak to my own actions and words, which means I have to put my full trust in the Lord.  With uncertainty, with life transition, and with sorrow, I must look to the Holy Spirit for guidance.  I can also pray to Our Mother to be my advocate.  Ultimately, I must trust that God will guide, and lead me, to wherever He wills.  Pentecost is a great reminder that God is with us always, the Holy Spirit very much present in our lives.  Should I still forget, however, and find myself a lost sheep once again, there is always a Good Shepherd to guide and lead me once more.  Never abandoned, the Holy Spirit is always with us.

 

 

 

Lauren delightfully serving a student at Arrupe Jesuit High School.

The Fruits of Radical Service

After graduating from the University of San Diego, Lauren Franklin, a.k.a. Frankie, brought to CVV 23 a joyful and reflective spirit.  Her plan is to use her many gifts to pursue a degree in counseling.  If she is not reading a piece of literature or writing about her heartfelt thoughts, Frankie, is probably preparing her favorite dish-Shakshuka (an Israeli egg dish).

 

It has been just about nine months since my year with CVV (23) ended, and I can’t help but notice how that is the same amount of time as a gestation period. The timing is wildly appropriate, because so many of the fruits of that year are now being birthed in my life. While I did experience radical growth much earlier than just this Lenten season, allowing God to integrate the work He did in me last year with my life today has been another journey of its own.

Last year, I worked in the Corporate Work Study office at Arrupe Jesuit High School, retraining teens who had been fired from their job placements and assisting with other administrative duties. I don’t love to admit it, but for the bulk of the year, I was desperately overwhelmed by my position. I didn’t know this at the time, but as I accompanied students, I saw their challenges as my own projects. So when students needed extra time to work on certain skills before receiving new job placements, I would become discouraged and work harder. I was operating under the lies that I am a savior, that my own efforts can solve humanity’s struggles and that those students’ journeys and mine defined each other. In retrospect, I can clearly recognize the pride that coursed through my perspective.

I have boundless gratitude for my community, coworkers and everyone Mary Frances and Bill so gracefully surrounded us with. Without them, I never would have had the opportunity to speak with Brother Aaron at Snowmass last spring. We sat on a bench a little removed from the retreat house, and I shared with him how deeply challenging the year had been for me. It’s funny, because I will never forget his words to me, but thinking back to that moment in time, I’m remembering that we were in a field and spring was just showing itself. As he spoke to me, he kept pointing out the new life all around us, “Just wait a moment. Now watch this butterfly.” “You see those birds over there? There’s something interesting about that type of bird…” The sunlight was catching everything, and as it did, Br. Aaron’s words illuminated my experience. He chatted with me about true service and how those we give our lives to do not belong to us. He said, “Your students’ successes are not your own.” I think a lot of pride died in me on that bench. In powerful tenderness, he helped set me free to love more purely.

After that weekend at the monastery, I returned to my students with a transformed perspective. I was able to look at them with unhindered delight, because finally I understood that really, their “success” had very little to do with me. I was simply there to cherish them, be an honest teacher and let God do the rest. Gosh, for the students’ sake, I wish I had begun the year with that mentality. They would have had to deal with far less stress and would have probably felt a whole lot more loved by me.

Now, fast-forward to today. I am back home in the town where I grew up, outside Los Angeles. I’m working with kids again, but this time all four of them are under 4 years old. The community I live with is my immediate family. In these upper middle class Southern California suburbs, human needs are harder to discern. True to form, I entered this new year with a bit of an existential crisis. (Where my enneagram 4s at?) Joking aside, I struggled to integrate the life-altering lessons I had learned in Denver. I wanted God to use me again. I yearned for Him to put to practice the true mutuality He’d taught me about the prior year. My thought process was something like this: God painfully stripped me of my false sense of service, and now He’s led me back to people who didn’t even need me?! I am sure we all can recognize that the same sinfulness of last year resides in these thoughts. There was my pride, popping up again.

I find it especially apropos that I have been led to a nannying job in this season of life, because I am convinced that there are no better teachers of service than children. Funnily enough, it’s as if teenagers were the refining fire that prepared me for their younger counterparts—toddlers. While I floundered to apply the lessons of last year to suburban California, this Lent is affording me the space to see that even here, even now, God is yet still purifying my heart for others. A one-year-old’s cry for milk or her three-year-old sister’s tantrum are expressions of human need. No, those needs are not the same as poverty; and it pains my heart to think back to my students’ stories at Arrupe and what their living situations were, especially as I juxtapose them with the homelives of the children I care for today. What I can say is that the kids whom my time belongs to this year are important to God. I am no longer under the illusion that I am a savior, but I can see that these tiny people deserve someone who has been shaped and renewed by the hearts at Arrupe. I never could have looked these babies in the eyes with such unfettered love if my students last year had not challenged me to start with them.

During Lent, I took time to contemplate the heart of Jesus. As I sat in his presence, I was struck by his relentless desire to serve me in every moment. I am convinced that the Lord is the mutuality of service. Christ-filled form of service is not one-sided in any sense. “For in him, all things live and move and have their being” (Acts 17:28). He is with us, as we are with Him; as we are with others, others are with us. I now see that this relationship is everywhere: in Denver and California, in mountains and beach towns, in cities and suburbs, in broken homes and those that appear to have it all figured out.

As we savor this Easter season, I want to encourage my fellow CVVers: do not be afraid to go where you are called. How does Christ’s risenness move you? Where does love incarnate take you? Wherever in the world that is, God wants you there, and it is there that He will meet you again. Everything we do in His love is radical service. Everything.

What’s more? All of it is God’s radical service to us.

Michelle Baumann, CVV 21

First Week of Lent

“Every little thing just wants to be loved.” –Sue Monk Kidd.

This quote was the theme of a digital story created by one of my fellow volunteers and has been a mantra for me during my work as a clinical social worker. During my year at CVV, I worked with youth at Urban Peak, an overnight homeless shelter. The youth taught me not every person is given love freely, some have to fight for it. At the shelter, love is a warm place to stay on a snowy night, a bus ticket to a job interview, or a person listening with an open heart and mind. Their frustrations with the staff or community were simply expressions of feeling unloved. All they wanted was a place to be loved after receiving so little love.

Currently, I am a social worker at an Early Intervention agency. Early Intervention works with families and children ages birth to three who have or are at risk for developmental delay.  Every day, I see how parents and children show love in different ways. To a child who is taught that being loved means getting whatever you want, a tantrum is simply feeling unloved by a caregiver. A mother in recovery taking prescribed Suboxone while pregnant isn’t neglecting the unborn child, but making a difficult decision between risking fetal harm due to side effects and preventing a potentially life-threatening relapse. A mother force-feeding her underweight child is desperately trying to make her child medically healthy. Seemingly ill-intentioned actions can be a sign of love when explored more deeply.

The biggest challenge I face in my work is not recognizing expressions of love, but working with families on loving and caring for their child without imposing my own values or preconceived notions of love. Even if I disagree with the parenting practices, I must work with the parent to find a way to best support the child, ensuring both the child and parent feel loved.  When I am unsure how to move forward or question the practices of a parent, I remind myself to simply find the love.

 

Chris Morgan, CVV 17

Second Week of Lent

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” NRSVCE Mt 5:3 

“You’re blessed when you are at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.” MSG Mt 5:3

How often do you find yourself at the end of your rope? Does it prompt you to remember that you’re blessed? I’m going to guess that it doesn’t. In the lives we live, we often find ourselves in positions where we have control over a number of the variables. It gives us a sense of stability and security. Take your pick of the things in your life that you think you can control: where you sleep, what you eat, where you work, how you spend your time, where you spend some of (if not most) of your money, where you worship, etc.

At a foundation level, stability and security are not bad. As we hear from the creation accounts in Genesis, it was God who brought order out of chaos. In the Psalms, God is revered for bringing regular rains to water the crops. That brought stability to their lives. Note that these are examples of God in control.

I’ve been having a lot of conversations lately with people who find themselves at the end of their rope. “It feels like my life is totally out of control.” “I can’t do anything to change whether my husband lives or dies.” As a hospital chaplain who mostly works nights, you can imagine that I meet many people on the worst day of their life. This theme of control has been coming up more and more lately, and I know there is something for me to learn here. 

That translation of the first Beatitude from The Message doesn’t tell us to keep from being at the end of our rope. It doesn’t say “if.” It says, “When you are at the end of your rope.” It will happen, and when it does, you are blessed. You are blessed because you are presented this great and awful opportunity. In the midst of your world feeling so out of control, you can be shaken from the stability and security you provide yourself, in what might be the only way to remember where we truly find stability and security. It is through surrendering our lives to God’s care that we experience the Kingdom. It can be difficult to do that in your everyday life where you’ve set up routines and structures to live as you see fit. 

Look to those moments when you don’t have anything else to give as opportunities to go deeper with God. Those moments are dark and hard to see the way out. I pray they happen as rarely as possible, but when they do, remember the first Beatitude. Blessed are the poor in spirit! When you surrender to God’s care for you, You are participating in realizing the Kingdom of God on earth. 

Lent can be a season to recognize parts of our lives that get in the way of loving God and others. I encourage you to take some time to reflect on what came up for you while reading this. Maybe some objections or some convictions. Bring them to prayer and ask what God wants you to do with them. 

When we surrender our sense of being in control of our lives (or anything else), we have the opportunity for something more beautiful to happen. We have the space and the posture to co-create with God and be partners in realizing the Kingdom of God; in our community, in our family, in our work.

 

Coleen Calamari, CVV 21

Third Week of Lent

My year in CVV challenged me and changed me in many positive ways. I had countless experiences that continue to shape who I am as a young adult. I had moved to a different part of the country, where I was taken out of my comfort zone, to begin working with the marginalized and growing in community. Though it was difficult at times, the whole year was an immense blessing and opportunity to walk with people through the joys and sufferings of life. Words do little justice to express how much I value and learned from my journey with CVV.

Living in New York City now, it can be easy to get caught up in a self-centered culture. We all have places to go and tasks to accomplish. Yet, people find time to look out for their fellow New Yorker. It is inspiring when people look outside of themselves to help another. I often see someone sacrifice a seat on a crowded subway for the woman with a small child or someone offer leftovers to the person who is sitting alone on the sidewalk in the cold. Through these shared experiences, we together make up this imperfect, beautiful city.  

Working as a nurse at a doctor’s office in New York City, I am not always encountering the marginalized in the same way as when I worked at Stout Street Health Center in Denver. My current patients typically do not have the same types of needs as the clients at Stout Street. I do, however, still encounter them at vulnerable times, such as before surgery or during illnesses. I have the privilege of being with, listening to, and offering advice during these instances. I am humbled to be entrusted with their concerns and feelings.

A unique aspect of my nursing position is working frequently with people who are immigrating to the United States. The office performs medical exams that are required during the green card application process. These exams include verifying the patient’s immunization status, among other health screenings. My favorite part of this office visit is listening to the patients’ diverse stories. Each person has his or her own unique background and circumstances that brought them to the country. I am often reminded of our border trip with CVV to El Paso, where met many people and listened to their experiences with immigration. I strive to help these patients feel cared for and listened to during a part of the often long application process.

My CVV experience taught me to see love and charity in all situations, from living in community while serving people experiencing homelessness in Denver to building a life in New York City. I continue to experience the charisms of CVV at home, at work, and with family and friends. We can participate in the Body of Christ within all life circumstances.

 

Sarah Mayer, CVV 17

Fourth Week of Lent

When I was reflecting on what to write for my Lenten reflection I could not help but think back to the reflection I wrote for the CVV newsletter.  At the time, seven years ago, I felt quite torn up about the mandatory CVV mid-year move.  My community was not without faults but to me the faults were few and far between.  I tied this community to the physical location of 1544 Pearl Street and figured that everything would change if we moved.  I struggled to realize that the brick and mortar surroundings did not define my community.  

In the spring of 2011, I remember sitting in my Saint Mary’s College dorm room answering the application questions for CVV.  When asked about how I would live with intentionality, I must confess, I googled the word intentional.  Of course, I knew what the word meant but what did it mean in the context of community?  I learned quickly that it meant pushing dinner back or forward depending on Mike’s rugby practice schedule because meals together were so important.  I learned staying up late talking about life with Erin or Alison would make waking up for the 6am shift at St. Francis Center harder but not impossible.  I remember the conversations much more than the dread I experienced getting out of bed on little sleep.  I learned that it is possible to love people but not like them (Ryan Martin warned us that would happen).

CVV taught me a myriad of things but I would say the one constant has been intentionality in relationships.  The excuses can pile up: work is busy, you are tired, you have had a long day, etc.  The year after CVV ended, 13 of the 19 people in my year lived in Denver.  It was an extension of CVV and spending time together was easy.  As we have gotten older, people have moved away, gotten married, had babies, gotten graduate degrees, changed jobs, bought houses, and traveled the world.  It can be hard but if CVV has taught me anything is that you still have to try.  This extends beyond people from my CVV year and into my general friend group.  There is not meaning beyond the saying “I do not have time for…”.  You do have time, you just choose how to spend it and what to prioritize.  I am nowhere near perfect but I try to be persistent to the people who are most important to me.  Sometimes I think, gosh, no one ever let me in on the secret that friendships require a lot of effort.  When I reflect, however, I realize CVV hinted at that idea.  CVV was countercultural in many ways.  One of those ways was living with intention.  I am grateful for CVV for many reasons and one will be that CVV taught me to put into relationships that you “glean” something from.  

 

Brian Sheehan, CVV 14

Fifth Week of Lent

Generativity

“Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” -John 12:24

My great uncle was a Trappist Monk. His name was Clarence “Nick” Prinster, and for a time during his early monastic and adult life, Brother Nick worked closely with Mother Theresa in India. Prior to becoming a monk, Nick was a handful; he gambled, drank, and radiated untamed vitality. In his later life,

Nick exuded tranquility, wisdom, and presence (this was the uncle I knew). And in his time between the polarities of youthful vigor and twilight quietude, Nick was exceptionally generative: He oversaw the year-round management of vast swaths of monastery farmland, he hand-built astonishingly elegant grandfather clocks, and worked side-by-side with Mother Theresa and her Sisters of Charity serving the destitute poor in a capacity he humbly referenced as “my apostolate.”

My uncle Nick passed away last summer at the age of 91. His entry into the next Great Journey was modest. During his final months of life, most would hardly characterize him as generative. Naturally, he spent much more time being cared for than producing, and needed more attention than he was capable of immediately giving. Yet in a peculiar way, Brother Nick’s process of dying and eventual death, though melancholy (I miss him), was productive. He left me with budding understanding where I expected a void.

Psychologist Erik Erickson was one of the first to articulate in secular terms what many mystics and religious thinkers with a grounded spirituality have intuited for centuries. Namely, Erickson stated that a healthy human psyche must develop throughout life. From birth until death, our interior sense of self is capable of growing to meet the challenges of life’s various stages, and ultimately bears fruit (i.e. generativity) by moving towards psychological integration.[1]

In his work Sacred Fire, theologian and spiritual writer Ronald Rolheiser puts it more pragmatically. He poignantly highlights that the road to human maturity unfolds according to a distinct pattern.  Essentially, from adolescence onward, a fully lived life mirrors three sequential stages:

1.) Getting our lives together

2.) Giving our lives away

3.) Giving our deaths away

In Christian terms, this pattern is called the Paschal Mystery. At our collective best as Catholics, we hold the journey of birth, life, loving sacrifice, death, resurrection, and new life in the Spirit to be the underlying blueprint of a meaningful existence God writes in nature.[2] We also believe God does not leave us alone to navigate the difficulties of this journey. Instead, God chooses to walk through a human, earthly life so we can coalesce as a community, have an ever-present Model to imitate, and glean from those who most gracefully live the Paschal voyage.

If I’m honest, I’m still probably in the ‘getting my life together’ phase. I still rent, I get bogged down by e-mails at work, and quite frankly my calendar can be an unruly source of anxiety. Sure, I work with kids, volunteer for an environmental group, and try to be kind. But If I compare my daily life to aspects of my uncle Nick’s, it’s easy to question if I’m really being generative at all!

I’ve been blessed to find myself in a professional leadership role over the last two years. As such, I’ve been challenged to view the contours of my daily work through the lens of service where the fruitfulness of my labor depends on my capacity to value others rather than simply getting my act together.

Hopefully, this is a sign I am entering the second stage of life – the ‘giving my life away’ stage. But even then, there are days I’m exceedingly busy in the name of ‘service,’ but despite all my scattered haste, I don’t seem to get anything done. The quality of my ‘giving’ when my nose is so tightly pressed to the proverbial grindstone that I can’t see beyond the challenges and complexities of the moment is inevitably characterized by concern, worry, and doubt.

My uncle Nick’s early adult life produced a wake of beauty I can only aspire to replicate in my own day-to-day activities. But paradoxically, witnessing his approach to death and dying teaches me more about making a meaningful impact than tallying his notable actions. In the end, I believe his knack for simply being is what made all his ‘doing’ so valuable , and because he knew what it meant to live contemplatively, his activity was all the more graced and fruitful.

This lent, I hope to imitate my uncle Nick. I pray that my days be marked by a little less doing and a little more being, fewer angst-filled reactions and more mindful pauses for prayer, and a generative interior space that manifests outwardly in the fruits of my labor. And more importantly, I pray that whoever reads this reflection also finds a productive sense of peace.

  

[1] Childhood and Society, by Erik Erickson

[2] Sacred Fire, by Ronald Rolheiser

 

 

Coming Home

Rachael  (Rudeen) Klos was part of CVV 6 (all-women’s group) from 2000-2001.  During CVV, Rachael worked at the Conflict Center. She grew up in Cottage Grove, Minnesota and went to the College of St. Benedict.  After CVV Rachael became a special education teacher.  Now she is married to Jeff Klos and they have 3 children:  Phoebe, Henry, and ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Truman.

 

Coming home.

 

It’s a phrase that has carried so many different meanings for me over the years.

 

To the younger me, “home” seemed to always refer to a physical place: Minnesota, my home state, or the house in which I grew up. Beginning with my CVV experience, home became Denver, and the variety of apartments and houses I shared with friends.

 

As I matured, I came to realize that “home” can be a warm and loving feeling associated with the people closest to us. Regardless of where we physically were, any time I was with my girls from growing up or my dear friends from college, it felt like home. And shortly after I met my husband many years ago, he became home to me. 

 

After a while, my profession of teaching felt like coming home. Quite by accident, I happily found my place in advocating for kids with developmental differences. I was passionate about the services I was providing for families within the world of special education.

 

But after marriage and the birth of our first child, I knew that my passions had shifted towards family.  Gratefully, I was able to step away from my career for a bit to raise our daughter. And, relishing in the beauty of life with my new little family, every day felt like coming home. 

 

Life was good, and I felt invincible. 

 

Until I was completely blindsided.

 

As we prepared to welcome our first son into our family, we were devastated to learn of a birth defect he had on his abdominal wall. After close monitoring for the remainder of my pregnancy, we were prepared to deliver at Children’s Hospital Colorado and expected a short NICU stay while Henry recovered from a surgery he’d have to repair his Gastroschisis. 

 

But we’d soon learn that Henry’s Life would take a very different – a foreign and utterly terrifying – path. After an emergency surgery at birth, he was left with only 10% of his digestive tract. The 20 cm that remained were very dilated and did not function well. We spent the first three and a half months of Henry’s Life living at the hospital. It was during this time that our beautiful baby boy taught us how to courageously fight. Although we were slowing learning that Henry’s broken body was not created long for this Life, his wise and gentle soul wasn’t finished with us just yet. When Henry was well enough, we transitioned home with support from a truly incredible palliative care company. After sharing 6 months at home of joyous adventures and wondrous love with one another, our families, and our supportive community, Henry’s body grew tired. One Sunday morning in January, before the sun rose, we held our baby boy in our arms as he took his last breath.

 

My world had completely imploded, and the Life I knew and loved was instantly gone.

 

* * *

Service and advocacy, reflection, community, spirituality and prayer: these are all important components to living a meaningful Life. While they are not novel to the CVV community, often times these elements can be buried and forgotten as Life, simply, carries on. It is vital that we remember to connect and reflect, especially when we feel isolated and discontented. 

 

After Henry died, I was inherently shattered; the core of my very being irrevocably changed.

 

And it’s taken – literally – years for me to uncover a desire to rebuild myself and create a new Life of which I can be proud.

 

This month marks Henry’s 5th birthday. While the ground beneath us softens and greens and the first flowers bud with the promise of new Life, I will be reminded of the joy and certainty of rebirth. We are constantly growing and changing; parts of us die while others are born.  

 

Only recently have I been reminded that – along with returning to a comfortable physical place or spending time with special people or doing something I enjoy – to find the most important meaning of “coming home,” I have to look within.

 

To quiet the noise around me and listen to that voice in my head. To sift through all the distractions and decipher what’s truly on my mind. And to unpack and interpret what is written on my heart. 

 

For me, coming home has been, and will continue to be, the difficult process of finding myself again after the death of my son. 

 

I’m eternally grateful to have had the last several years to devote solely to my family. However, in that time where the highs and (extreme) lows of motherhood were raw and all-consuming, I lost myself. In giving Life to three beautiful children, I forgot all about mine. And holding one of my babies while he took his last breath completely decimated whatever was left of me. 

 

Now, over 4 years after Henry’s death, it seems I’m ready to be found. I am feeling called to something bigger: a different kind of meaningful service. A personal resurrection is beginning to bloom in my Life, in Henry’s memory and honor. I’m finding that my son is giving me the strength to forge my next steps in the areas of death and dying, pediatric palliative care and hospice, and bereavement. I’m committed to supporting families like mine, being a similar beacon for others that we have been so blessed to receive.

 

I am fully listening like never before, letting my heart guide this new path I’ve been so desperate to find. Digging deep within, and recognizing all the ways that Henry leads me from the other side, has created a newfound fervor for the future, and a general sense of peace and comfort within.

 

I feel as if I am finally coming home again.