the soul felt its worth

As I stand and look into the mirror
I see a figure of a girl
Trying to live for something more.

Won't you come and make me whole?

_____________________________________________________________

"Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth."

No, I'm not trying to start Christmas off even earlier this year (although I LOVE Christmas!), but I want to highlight this lyric. Father Greg Boyle used this same lyric in his book Tattoos on the Heart. He said that it's his favorite line of any song because it truly describes what happens when one of his "homies" (gang members) realizes how much he/she is worth. Each life is worth so very very much.

Isn't it funny how life works? Last week was the first week that I really began to "feel my worth." I finally pieced together the string of ups and downs, the joys, the hopes, and the fears that led me to October. It was last week that I finally felt that I belonged...I belonged to Dolores Mission Parish--they needed my presence. I belonged to my community--my actual presence (yes, my presence) made a difference. I am, in fact, part of this body, this body of Christ. Many parts but one body. I was beginning to feel a part of that in my East LA community. I saw that they needed me as much as I needed them. I was beginning to feel at home.

But, my body had other plans. I really don't want to go into a whole dramatic sequence of events. I am not looking for the kind of response that happens when these things are said -- a tilt of the head and a look of pity. That's really the last thing I want. But, I am going to keep up with this blog, so I will witness to what has happened.

As I've mentioned, my Crohn's disease has been a bit of a struggle lately. During this past week, as my excitement about being a Jesuit Volunteer increased, my body was unable to keep up. I am not complaining in anyway, but I must state that being a JV is an extremely physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting occupation. The challenge is met with love and welcomed whole heartedly. I've heard it said that the year of JVC breaks you down only to rebuild you back up again. For any normal, healthy person, this year is one of the hardest years of their life; but for a person dealing with a chronic disease, it can be even more of a toll.

I've grown up never using my Crohn's as an excuse. I saw it as a personal weakness to excuse myself from participating in activities or from getting out of any obligations or commitments. I didn't see myself as deserving any special treatment just because of this disease. I would not give it that power. I still do not want to give it that power. I do not want to step down and let it be my priority. It seems like such a waste of energy that could easily consume me. I have so much I want to do, so much more I want to live for. The pain comes and goes, but I get over it. It consumes my being for the time it takes, I take a breath, and I go on. I don't think twice. I have been told that my tolerance for pain is higher than most, which makes sense since I've had this disease for over half of my life. I just grew up assuming that other people feel the same pain. I still have a hard time understanding what it would be like to not feel the way that I do from day to day.

A curse and a blessing.

Because I have such a high tolerance, I have not been able to recognize when I need help. I haven't gotten the treatment that I probably needed because I have just toughed it out. Now, at the beginning of this new chapter of the rest of my life, I am being forced to slow down. I am being forced to take a step back and evaluate what is important. Last Thursday, I left work early again because I felt too weak to make it through the entire day. I was incredibly upset with myself, yet again, and called my parents to ask for their advice. Finally, we came to the conclusion that I needed to be seen by my doctor, and that meant going home. They had me booked on a flight for the following day. I felt sick that I knew I was leaving my community, but at the same time, I knew--deep down--that I needed to do this.

That night, Paula and I had a special event planned for our youth group. We organized a BBQ in conjunction with the Guadalupe Homeless Project and IMPACTO. We bought over a hundred burgers and hot dogs from Costco and relied on other people to bring an assortment of side dishes, drinks, and desserts. We have been so excited about this event for the last few weeks. In past blogs I have mentioned these two other groups, but in case you missed it, GHP is the group of homeless men who have been given shelter at Dolores Mission Parish. They sleep in the church every night, are given breakfast and dinner each day, and are assisted in finding work for the day. They are welcome to stay for three months, and by the end, most leave with a job and a home. The men are absolutely amazing, and I am so proud to call a few of them my friends. I feel so incredibly humbled and thankful to be welcomed into their lives...to be a part of their story. The other group, IMPACTO, is an after school program that runs through high school. We got all three of these groups together, plus families, to have a fiesta. We even had a DJ to add in to the fun!

Needless to say, I did not want to miss this event. I was not feeling well at all, but Katie picked me up from the house and took me to the church. Thankfully, I gained some energy and was able to have a wonderful time. It was so moving to see everyone come together. As Paula and I tried to figure out how to grill the hamburgers, one of the homeless men named Angel came to our rescue. He laughed a little bit at our attempt, and gladly took over. I watched this man, this man who had been through so much, as he prepared the grill. He looked like any dad, he was a natural. Angel had the biggest grin upon his face as he prepared the meal for the night. A few more of the men got their turn in and were overjoyed to help out.

You see, these men are served every day. The parishioners of Dolores Mission have barely anything themselves, but they somehow pull enough together to feed and shelter these men everyday. The men are so incredibly grateful, you can see it in their eyes, in their smiles, you can hear it in their conversations. So, when they are given the chance to give back, you can't imagine how happy it makes them. I watched Angel and the other men serve their fellow GHP men, plus the women who serve them every day, plus the youth who live in the Boyle Heights community. I could feel how empowered they felt from this simple action. I could not help but be reminded of a moment at the University of San Diego when, in preparation for the Search retreat, I had the honor to wash the feet of my peers who had given me so much with their presence in my life alone....but that is another story in itself...

To say the least, the BBQ was a hit. It brought together people who might not always be in contact, and it allowed the served to serve. I cannot tell you how good it felt to see the genuine smiles, to watch the little kids running around playing tag, to see mothers and daughters dancing together, and to hear the laughter exuding from this church. This church that is located in the largest public housing project west of the Mississippi. We were all alive and surrounded by love. What else could we want? It was truly inspiring.

At the end of the night, I was faced back with the reality of my flight leaving the next day. I couldn't ignore it any longer, so I had to talk to my community about it. When we all arrived home, we sat down together and I told them that I needed to go home to be treated for my Crohn's and to figure out a game plan--because mine was obviously not working. We were all very upset, but my casamates are all so so supportive. We stayed up together later than usual and watched a few episodes of Friends. 11-o-clock rolled around, and we all knew it was time to get to bed for the day of work that was in front of us. But, none of us wanted to stand up. We sat there, in silence, for what seemed like forever. No one knew what to do or what to say. Finally, Greg broke the silence by suggesting that it seemed like the perfect time for a prayer. My casamates each said a prayer for our community and for me. My soul felt its worth.

To make a long story short, I arrived home late Friday night and was admitted to the University of Chicago hospital first thing Saturday morning. I was overwhelmed with the love of my family and all of their support--I felt completely cushioned from every direction. On Saturday night, I was given a blood transfusion because I had lost so much blood due to my condition and my anemia level was so severe. My parents and my brother, Alec, were sitting around watching football with me when all of a sudden, two of my best friends walked in the door. Becky and Michelle surprised me, I had no idea that they could find where I was or that they were coming, and they came bearing some pretty funny and cute cards as well as a great set of pajamas to wear instead of those stupid hospital gowns! I was so happy to see them. They stuck around with my family until visiting hours were up and then went to dinner with Alec and drove him home.

Saturday night was my first night alone in a hospital. I almost got to sleep when, at 11 pm, a surgeon came in to tell me that I would most likely have to undergo a very serious surgery (I'd prefer not to mention the details here). My heart sunk and the tears that I resisted with all of my might came rushing out. The poor man didn't know what to do. He could only say he was sorry and assured me that it wasn't completely for sure yet. He left me--alone. There are really no words to describe the way I felt...fear? disbelief? desperation? These words, they just don't cut it.

And then my angel, my nurse, Pam, came into my room. It might not be on her job description, but she sat with me and hugged me, she held me in her arms as I wept. She stayed with me and listened to my pain, and offered help. She told me about all of the patients she takes care of who are around my age and have undergone the same surgery. She revealed to me all of the positive outcomes of having this operation. She opened my eyes to see that it was not all negative, that in actuality, having this surgery would free me from Crohn's disease. It is an incurable disease unless completely removed. It was a lot to take, but oddly, it made me feel better. I was able to see some light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel.

The rest of the night, I was poked and prodded at every few minutes, but other than that I had time to think. Every other moment I would slip back into the darkness and fear that closed me up, but I spent the hours with my God. I imagined him sitting in the chair by my bed, holding my hand. I listened as he spoke to me. He didn't say much. He told me that he would never give me something that I could not handle, and that I didn't have to worry about losing him--He would always be there with me. I would never be alone. Strangely, by around 4 in the morning, I had come to a point of almost accepting this surgery. I had a sense of peace. I do not want to become detached and bitter because of my Crohn's, I don't want to lose my compassion and my ability to see God in all things. That is what I fear the most. And that's when I realized...they can take anything away from me. They can cut and sew me together again, but they can't remove me from God. No one can do that. And then, I was okay. As long as I have God, as long as I can love and be loved, nothing--nothing--can bring me down.

After this night of intensity, my family and I grew a little restless about the uncertainty of what was to come. I was still afraid, but with a new sense of peace, and I could truly feel the prayers that were being said by my friends and family near and far. My heart was being held together and I was strong.

On Monday, the doctors were able to do a complete test to see what was currently going on with my disease. We nervously awaited the results...and finally my doctor came into my room. Although my Crohn's is very severe in certain areas, he is not willing to give up yet. The last resort would be to turn to surgery, but he told me that he does not want to give up quite yet. It took a while to sink in, but I realized that I had received a miracle. I was given a second chance. I really believe in the power of the prayer that was circulating around me this past week. My soul feels its worth.


Thank you for loving me.


"I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."
 -Matthew 25:36