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Thanks for the memories!

2010-07-29T19:42:00.000-07:00

It's my last night in Boston. And it is hard to believe I have spent the last two years of my life in New England. I leave this fine city feeling accomplished and ready to tackle the next task: campus ministry at Northwestern University. I recently accepted a position as the Catholic Chaplain for the the law and medical school students on the downtown campus of Northwestern.

I came to complete an M.A. program in pastoral ministry and learn more about integrating my faith, journalism background and ministry skills. My thesis was about social networking and ministry. I learned as much as I could in my two years. That tug to re-enter journalism is no longer present and what now exists is a way to integrate journalism into ministry more fully.

Outside of my studies I embarked on my personal tour of the East Coast which included the historic places on the Freedom Trail, a few jaunts down to New York City, a live taping of 'Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me,' and the final destination was a beach on Cape Cod. The last one is featured in a photo of Provincetown that I pasted into this post.

The friends and community are what I will miss most as I move back to the Midwest. Many whom I shared lunch, theological reflections or academic frustrations with are folks I consider to be my family. They opened their hearts and minds into accepting a path in theology and ministry. And I could just hug them all at the same time.

As I move onto my first ministry job, I am leaving this blog behind. The intent of this space was to share my journalistic and ministerial insights with the world or whoever would find me readable at 2a.m. It kept me company as I wrote my thesis. It helped me find a sounding board for material that was floating around in my head but not necessarily fodder for my theological reflections. It helped friends and family gain insight into my studies. And even my future employers sneaked a few peaks at entries.

I will be starting another blog or Facebook group as a connection to my thesis project which was using Facebook as a ministerial tool. And I will be using media and technology quite a bit in my new position of campus minister.

To all who have read this - thanks for reading. And to those just stopping by, I appreciate the interest.

Back in action

2010-07-11T18:40:00.000-07:00

Image of walking trails near Campion Center

Summer vacation as an adult is 10 times more fun than as a kid. Days at the pool seem more fun. Lazy days filled with trips to the baseball field and naps on freshly mowed grass are more sweet. Long rides on the bike seem to be full of much promise.

This second official week of summer is off to an amazing start. Getting up early with no real plan in hand and then managing to pack in bike trips, errands and playtime has been a joy these past weeks.

This official vacation was kicked off with a silent retreat at Campion Center in Weston, Mass. that allowed much needed rest and rejuvenation. This is my second visit to the Center and it was more joyful than the first. And as I wrote in my journal on my last night, I was able to bookend my graduate school experience with retreats. The first was a weekend retreat at San Damiano two weeks before grad school which was titled, 'Awaken to the Sacred.' And this silent retreat really helped me reflect on my own journey in lay ministry, the transition into a new calling and my time at Boston College.

It is hard to believe I'm moving on with many fond memories and rich experiences. But most of all to borrow a line from Friday Night Lights - 'Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose.' That sums about how I am feeling this weekend.

Reflection from Preaching class on June 14, 2010

2010-06-28T19:39:00.000-07:00

I waited to post this because I wanted to get the feedback from my instructor on where changes and edits could have been made. I'll let you read it then I'll comment below.

Clarissa Aljentera

June 14, 2010

I am found

Think about the last time you lost something you cherished: a watch, a favorite sweater, or maybe a friend who you hadn’t called in years. When that friend was found phrases like, “I have missed you,’ or “We have so much to catch up on,” were probably exchanged. Long talks ensued. Tears could have been shed. If you were the person who was found, you may not have realized how much you were missed and how much you are loved.

Recently, a friend of mine was ‘found.’ His name is James and he is 22-years-old. We had not really lost touch, in fact his story is one of a long pursuit with God. James was baptized, received his first Eucharist and confirmed this April during his senior year of college. It has been a long journey for him that was filled with exploration and questioning of the Catholic church. James had always wanted to become part of the this community we call church. And it was a long discernment for him that included the support of friends and mentors like myself.

He was involved in service projects at Boston College. He studied theology. And he made acquaintances with Jesuits. This path was very much his journey and something he grew closer to each day. And in late April he was baptized, received his first Communion and confirmed. Each step of the way was a way for God to reveal God’s self to the young man. And when he was anointed with oil and embraced by friends and family, it was another way of God expressing love.

Having been a first-hand witness to James being found was moving. It gives me goose bumps to share his story with you today. This image of God that I share with you is one of a lover pursuing someone with a fondness and longing. And when God finds the lost sheep in Luke there is rejoicing. Retelling the story helps me understand God’s love in a very personal way. There is a very comforting image of our God who will run toward us and embrace us

Imagine for a moment what it is like to be lifted high above God’s shoulders. You can’t believe that God has found you and hoisted you high for all the world to see. It was like God said, I have missed you. We need to catch up.

But just so you know I delivered it without notes and hit the three-minute mark exactly. I love being concise. No more. No less. That was a struggle in school when professors wanted me to keep writing. After I received comments back from classmates they said it was confusing as to if James was lost or not. And my instructor felt I could eliminated my first graf and reworked some of the sentences. Although I was sans notes that afternoon, I held them in my hands. That kept me from really using my body as a preaching tool.

I am trying to construct my last reflection on 1 John 4 7-10, but I"m struggling. Too much in my head. I'll let you know how it goes. :)

Keepsakes, handwritten notes and Lola

2010-06-23T13:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the best part about moving are uncovering buried treasures that you completely forgot about. I unearthed a gem just now as I was packing up my desk. It was a handwritten note from my maternal grandmother in 1992.

She writes,

'Dear Clarissa -

How I wish you could finish your study. Congratulation of graduation and receive my blessings and love for you. Include me in your prayers always.

Your loving Lola,
Mary

Receive this little amount.'

There are two great parts to this letter: 1) It was written on my aunt's office stationery. 2) I packed it with me when I moved to Boston two years ago.

The fact it was written on my aunt's stationery illustrates the life of simplicity my grandparents (on both sides) were accustomed to living. And the second piece is that having lost my Lola Mary about 10 years ago this was one way to keep her with me through my studies. Lola means grandmother in Tagalog. If she was with me today, I'd probably say thanks for everything including being that great prayerful presence in my life as a young lady. And she'd be pleased to know I finished a degree in Pastoral Ministry and would not have cared that it was from Boston College. She would just affirmed my decision to pursue ministry as a career.

Anyhow, when I first moved to B.C. I tacked it against the wall near my laptop and sometimes when I wanted to be distracted I would read it fondly. I just unearthed it now from a pile of stuff and it was the best surprise of the day.

Preaching class for the summer

2010-06-09T10:23:00.000-07:00

Preparation for my weekday reflection

Not having dropped the student status yet, I am enrolled in a preaching for laypersons course. It's a six-week class that introduces laypersons to the joys and struggles of preaching. Now, it must sound a little batty that I am taking this class immediately after graduation but there is good reason. It was offered in February but then postponed until May and June. And since I"m around and having marked this class as one of my Must Do classes, I figured I would give it a shot.

Having been offered the opportunity to offer reflections during my first year at the STM, I had always wanted to take a preaching course. I hope to use these skills as a campus minister.
The class and the materials are excellent. I am enjoying learning Scripture more and more. The book we are reading, "Preaching Better" by Ken Untener is a fantastic and well-written resource.

But the jewel for the class are most definitely my classmates who are at least 10 to 15 years older than I am. They bring great wisdom and questions about liturgy and preaching that bring a sense of depth to the class that was different than my experience in day-to-day classes during the school year. They also have real-life experience and a combined wisdom for pastoral ministers which is hard to replicate.

I will be reflecting on either the Parable of the Lost Sheep or the Parable of the Lost Coin. I will let you know the outcome.

New found freedom

2010-05-29T07:57:00.000-07:00

Completing the degree has been an experience in freedom these past few days. With no real obligations these days, I am trying to explore as much of Boston as possible. After all, Boston and I have not spent proper time together. I mean, I have eaten cannoli's, checked out the Fort Warren and explored the South End but have I really gotten to know the neighborhoods? No. I decided to head into Jamaica Plain and off to the Pond.

Yesterday I went on a public transportation excursion. I was determined to spend quality time in Jamaica Plain and get back to my hobby of walking and people watching. Hopping on the 51 bus I caught a glimpse into Roslindale and Brookline on the way to JP. As we wound through neighborhood streets, commuters hopped off their bus to head home for dinner. One particular scene struck me. A toddler and his grandfather were waiting near the bus stop to greet the boy's mother after work. The boy looked annoyed and frustrated as the bus pulled up to the curb. And perhaps as his grandfather was carrying him and whispering something like, 'Your mom is coming on the bus.' As the backdoor opened up and the boy saw his mother and smiled as she walked toward him. Precious moments like that are fun to watch.

The rest of the evening was fairly mundane. I walked down Centre Street toward a Cuban restaurant then shuffled off to Jamaica Pond as the sun went down. Then I hopped on the T for the 45-minute ride home. It was nice getting away from Brighton and exploring another side of town.

Graduated!

2010-05-25T08:50:00.000-07:00

Woo hoo! Graduation was lovely. The entire weekend was lovely. It was truly a celebration yesterday on the lawn of the former Cardinal's Residence.

I have seen many of my friends update their Facebook status with lines such as, I am a Master! Or I graduated. Its a wonderful feeling to be enjoying right now.

I am pasting in the Invocation that myself and Ricardo read yesterday. I wrote it earlier in the week. Originally, it was to be read by our STM Council President, Paige, but she could not be there. And after some re-organizing it ended up being myself and Ricardo.

The words of wisdom that Sr. Janet Eisner imparted on the graduates and audience were inspiring from the perspective of a leader in education and the church. And Dean Clifford's parting remarks were great as well.

And lastly, cheering on friends and sharing hugs and well wishes at the end was the best part. Lingering around and saying goodbyes was so touching.

Loving God

We invoke your presence with us this day after Pentecost.

Today we celebrate our accomplishments as graduates of the School of Theology and Ministry.

We have achieved so much in our time here, yet we have so much more ahead of us.

We give thanks for this journey that began with an idea, a passion, and a sense of wisdom that led us down the road today.

During our time here many among us experienced loss, welcomed new life,

or marked a major milestone that brought us deeper into community.

We arrive at this final destination fulfilling our goals with the support of the faculty, staff, family, and friends.

Much of our journey included transition through the merging of the IREPM and Weston Jesuit as our communities became one.

We ask a blessing of Thanksgiving on Richard Clifford S.J. for his time as our inaugural dean.

And as we begin our new journeys today, may we always continue to seek wisdom, understanding, and love in whatever path we carve.

Hear our prayer.

Amen.

Graduation weekend!

2010-05-20T20:30:00.000-07:00

(photo taken at Carmel Beach - Jan. 2010)

Well, I have all but reached the end of the road. My family is ready to celebrate and party. I am ready to celebrate and party. I completed and passed all my classes. It was a little frustrating in the beginning of the semester as I was writing my synthesis project and learning about the Psalms. Both were challenging activities. But somehow, I made it to the end. I am standing.

Life is pretty sweet. This road was at times as smooth as a newly asphalted street and rocky like the dirt trails along Fremont's Mission Peak. The complete feeling of being finished has not hit me yet. Even as I wrapped up the Invocation and Community Blessing for the STM ceremony which I helped coordinate and craft, the shock of finishing my Master's Degree has not hit me.

The other day a prospective employer commented on my discernment story. They seemed impressed at my ability to jump from daily journalism to full-time ministry. At times, I cannot believe it either.
It crept in my head the other day as I finished the Invocation. I thought about the moment I decided to quit journalism, flee California and pick up where I had left off 14 years ago.

Many people have asked me if I will be going back into daily journalism. The answer I give is that I would love to merge journalism and ministry together to form my ministry of discernment, technology and communication among young adults. So, if you know anyone or someone who knows someone who is hiring please send them my way.

And I will eagerly tell them my story again. Good things come to those who wait. Or better yet discernment may be a long tricky path, but the rewards fill your heart more than you could ever imagine.

First of many goodbyes

2010-05-11T18:31:00.000-07:00

Today was the last day with my campus ministry placement with Salt and Light at Boston College. It has been a wonderful placement that challenged me and encouraged me to grow in various ways. And when I say last day, I mean we had dinner as a leadership team tonight and last night had our last official meeting.

My perceptions and theology changed during my time at Boston College. I really enjoyed creating mentoring relationships and friendships within the group. The placement encouraged me to try new things within ministry and I certainly felt loved and supported with the two dozen students that I had worked with during the academic year.

I was able to work with technology in the ministry and challenge students in their prayer lives. It was a wonderful affirmation of my desire to work with young adults. And as a parting gift to the group I created an audio slideshow that was a gift to the seniors and to Salt and Light.

Watch it if you would like - Salt and Light video

Tell me what you think.

Free throws under a dim parking light

2010-05-09T16:47:00.000-07:00

There are days like today when I absolutely love being in my 30s. Days like today are when I look back and can chronicle my life and friendship through lifelong friends like my buddy Marc Carig. He's one of the bloggers on my blog roll who I absolutely love reading.

We go back at least 12 years we were guessing. We met as aspiring sports journalists in the late 90s and have managed to keep in touch all these years. Our story was that we met at a journalism awards ceremony for the Peninsula Press Club. And later on down the line we ended up working together for two years at the Monterey County Herald.

Although we are both on the East Coast we only get to see each other once a year, but you'd swear it was like yesterday when we were standing around the Herald's parking lot shooting free throws under a dim parking light. Or maybe even sneaking in a quick round of golf before work.

Conversation jumps from journalism to theology, to Filipino families, to the SF Bay Area to living on the East Coast. And then always back to journalism. It's a crazy thing, being a journalist. And even crazier when you're a sports journalist.

Anyhow, its a double joy to keep up with friends whose roots run deep in your life. And you figure if you've survived college and your twenties together, there's a good chance you are sticking around for life.

Summer's almost here

2010-04-25T23:19:00.000-07:00

A sure sign of warm weather is the slip n slide with its water squirting, children squealing and general fun time. There were endless squeals and big splashes that my little cousins attemped on the slip n slide in my aunt's yard today. It was a fantastic time soaking in the 85-degree weather with the springtime air being punctuated with a squeal, a scream or giggles that were hard to miss.

My brother and I used to play on a makeshift slip n slide which was a blue tarp that we used when we went camping. When my parents were not looking, we'd find it buried in the garage, unfold it and then clean it off for an afternoon of fun. We'd spread it out on the front lawn and invite the neighbors over for a slide or 20. The garden hose sat at the start of the slip n slide and luckily we were on a bit of an incline so our slides took little to no effort. And we would slide and slide and slide until my mom came home, turned off the hose and scolded us for wasting water. Oops.

But at the end of it there were muddy feet, satisfied smiles and children unwilling to towel off and come inside. A few good signs of a fun day.

Yay for Boston's marathoners

2010-04-19T19:47:00.000-07:00

Boston marathon winners: Robert Kiprano Cheruiyot and Teyba Erkesso

I love watching the Boston Marathon. I really like watching running sports in general, but marathon's are clearly a class above other races. I love the tradition of the Boston Marathon. I love the enthusiasm of the fan's and runners. And I love seeing strangers interact with each other in very compassionate ways.

This year I watched the marathon from outside Boston College's main gate on Commonwealth Ave. that is the spot just past Heartbreak Hill. Many of the fan's who lined Comm. Ave were BC students who were rowdy and excited. And in some cases smelled of alcohol.

My friends and I cheered on the men and women who where quickly running past us toward Cleveland Circle and ultimately the finish line in Copley Square. I was able to cheer on some friends from B.C. who were running in the marathon and that was incredibly fun.

During the past few months I have watched runners up and down Commonwealth Ave. training for the marathon on weekend mornings. And I wonder what their stories are or where they are from. I also love talking to my co-workers, who are born and raised in Mass. about their family's marathon traditions. I love to ask them where they watched or what their families did to celebrate this day. This marathon at 114-years-old has such a wonderful tradition that I will miss it when I leave.

At one point this afternoon after many of the runners had passed by I went back out to the course . I wanted to go back and cheer. I found one woman near St. Ignatius church who had her hands poised on her hips and was voicing her impatience to a cop who was nearby. I heard her comments and caught up with her. Asking if I could walk with her and hesitating for a moment she said, 'yes.' Slowly, she started to regain her breath, we exchanged some small talk and then took off with me loudly cheering, 'You can do it ... Let's go!'

Yearlong ministry nearing the end

2010-04-12T20:07:00.000-07:00

Salt and Light declared Random Acts of Kindness Week in March

Every few weeks I feel compelled to share something fun about my yearlong placement in campus ministry at Boston College. I suppose I try and have something fun to say about most things. But this time I will expound on finding my theology through Salt and Light.

Coming to Boston College and studying theology and ministry was daunting. It seemed like this impossible mountain of academic work. Ministry had been fun and challenging up to Boston College and I was not sure what to expect with my contextual education placement. I knew it would be a fair amount of work and a good amount of fun.

It has exceeded the fun-o-meter. And it has challenged my own theology which has developed into something along the lines of finding the divine in others and entering more fully into community. When I was asked in my oral defense about my theology, I prefaced my statement with the fact that I had no idea what my theology was before I began at Boston College. I did not know how to even describe what my theology looked like. I can answer that question much better today.

Thankfully, working and encountering students almost daily has challenged what I believe and how I live my faith daily. I find myself reflected in students when we enter into conversations about faith and justice. Or even when we take a step back and create a space for prayer. They all know I have become quite fond of the squeeze prayer and that I love silly games.

Not knowing where I'll land come June, this experience has been a wonderful affirmation and most of all a gift.

Love of the Easter Lily

2010-04-03T22:11:00.000-07:00

This morning as I cruised by St. Mary's I noticed people setting up for the Easter Vigil. A mini-van was parked near the entrance and the side door was open as people shuttled Easter lilies from the van to the church.

When I was much younger, this was one of my favorite activities of the year, preparing for Easter. My family would stay late on Holy Thursday and tidy the church and prepare for Good Friday. And early on Saturday we would head back to the church to help with flowers, ironing altar clothes, or running through the Easter Vigil as an altar server.

And only now as an adult am I really beginning to fully understand the Triduum. And its pretty awesome. Happy Easter to you!

Done

2010-03-26T22:24:00.000-07:00

There are no words that can express completing and defending my synthesis project. I finished and defended this week and it has been a wonderful feeling. I can now be considered a master's candidate. Sweet. It is a good feeling. I may do something more with the piece to turn it into a resource for college campus ministers.

Oh, the photo is of WNBA player Lisa Leslie dunking. She's the first woman to throw down a slam dunk during a professional women's game. And she's just an all around great player.

Flowers, trees and jobs — OH, MY!

2010-03-21T05:39:00.000-07:00

Eternal optimist that I can be, the spring is just THAT more beautiful in Boston. Nothing beats walking past barren trees and bushes and then stumbling upon a small bunch of flowers just starting to bloom.

There was one morning last year where a classmate and I were walking past some pretty yellow flowers on our way to class. I just took a moment, leaned over and just took an extra whiff of the pretty flowers. And then he said to me, "I like that you stop and smell the flowers." The walk itself was nothing terribly exciting, but it became an event that was a great way to start the day.

I try and not rush from one thing to the next. Life fascinates me. The journey toward the destination is more fun than racing through to the end. I make a lot of pit stops in life and on the road because if I rushed, I'd miss those buds on the tree branches and breeze past those flowers.

This spring I am feeling ready to pause and take an extra breath in because of the harsh winter of writing and editing that I finished. I estimated that I spent about a dozen hours a week working on my synthesis project most weeks except for Christmas week and another week this semester. Now, I"m feeling ready to do a long exhale.

There are a little more than 60 days until graduation and who knows what will happen after that. It could be a job on college campus or at a high school. Or it could be working in a diocese. I'm pushing those thoughts of work away just a little longer to watch the flowers bloom.

Ice skating is women's wellness

2010-03-13T06:49:00.000-08:00

An evening of ice skating with Salt and Light was just what the doctor ordered after a long project was completed. It was frantic sprint to finish the synthesis project and I can't believe the writing portion is over. The last three weeks of the project were exhausting and excruciating. I don't think I've ever complained so much in my life. Nor, have I ever worked so hard in such a short amount of time to complete a project.

Anyhow, this entire experience is something I'll be processing for years to come. The writing, the editing, the writing, the research, the hair pulling, and the everything else you can add to it.

But the contrast to that was an evening of ice skating with the Salt and Light students, who I have been ministering to for the past seven months. This is the group I have been working with as part of the contextual education portion of my degree program. We went ice skating at a local rink on a Friday night which was fantastic fun. We laughed and giggled around the entire rink. And then some of us shared a meal on campus. It was relaxing and reassuring spending time with students who were not in a hurry to get somewhere or otherwise distracted by technology.

Another facet to last night was that I had spent part of the day at women's wellness day which was an event hosted by two of my classmates. They had invited author and psychotherapist, Abby Seixas, to give a workshop for busy women. The day focused on ministering to women who sometimes forget that they too need to be ministered to in this world of fast-paced living. So, as a result of the day I was eagerly looking forward to just hanging out with students and figuring out where the night would end. And the result was sharing an unhurried meal where we shared our parents love stories and a little bit about our own relationships.

This meal and day in itself were rich with love, community, and laughter. And it was a wonderful gift to have received after a stress-filled week.

Finding inspiration one Guatemalan at a time...

2010-03-07T11:21:00.000-08:00

Technically, one medium Guatemalan cup of coffee at a time.

Jumped on a train to escape Boston one last time to write near an ocean.

Dreams do come true at Boston College.

Coming to the end and riding into the sunset

2010-03-03T07:01:00.000-08:00

(taken in Big Sur in August 2009)

All good things come to an end. And let’s face it, bad things come to an end as well. And the end is on the horizon for this blog. Originally created as a space to talk about the intersection of ministry and journalism, this blog has satisfied those needs. This became my soapbox to talk about new experiences and a new coast. And most importantly a new calling.

It seemed odd two years ago when I thought about leaving journalism for ministry, but in hindsight journalism helped sharpen the tools I need as a minister. I need to be a good listener, compassionate, level-headed, quick thinking and calm at times. I learned those skills and more during my 10 plus years as a student journalist and full-time journalist.

I also learned how much a spiritual and faith life intersect with day-to-day life. And that was learned on the go as well when I rushed out to accidents or murders and was interviewing grieving relatives and friends of the victim. Or sometimes it was learned in the context of students who were struggling to overcome various challenges that ranged from classroom environments to family situations.

I am not sure if I will blog much further past my graduation date in May. I may start up another venture or I may actually use my Twitter account. This was the first of three blogs I kept during graduate school and all three have been great experiences.

This two-year adventure at Boston College is coming to an end almost as quickly as I crank out the last edits of my thesis (which is on Facebook and technology as ways of discernment for college students). I have loved the readership and the fans. I have loved hearing from old friends and my parents, who are regular readers (Hi Mom and Dad!)

My life has been transformed and my own theology has evolved in the past two years.

And I promise to elaborate on those two more as I wind down.

Thanks for reading as I phase out this blog. Be well!

A week of service in Boston or writing about the 2010 U.S. Open in PB?

2010-02-24T18:53:00.000-08:00

My blog has been hot these days. I'm blogging more now than I ever had been since the blog's inception in 2008. But this is my temporary outlet with the constraints of my synthesis project and my schedule, this seems to be one of my outlets.

I met with my spiritual director this afternoon and was made available of an opportunity to spend time with a Religious community this summer as a 'Come and See' experience. The experience includes living in community and serving the poor. That resonates with me on many levels as I prepare to finish my M.A. program. It seems like an easy, 'yes,' right?

Real quickly, a spiritual director is someone who is a guiding presence in the life of a directee. The director mirrors ideas and thoughts as well as asks question about finding God's grace and presence in various life situations. It is relationship built on prayer and trust.

Alright, now back to those decisions. That same week is actually the week of the U.S. 2010 Open in Pebble Beach, Calif. which is good choice, 'B.' As a former sports writer, that is one primo event that is fun to cover. And I kinda sorta told my former editor that I wanted to come back that week to freelance. Having never covered an Open, I am psyched at the opportunity to walk and write about one of the finer sports I have enjoyed writing about. I am not tied to that decision, but when they announced that Pebble Beach would be the site I knew I wanted to be there in some capacity...writer, onlooker, soda seller, etc.

Now, the 'Come and See' weekend is certainly not the only weekend like that but it is with a community that I would be interested in knowing. And it is on my 'To-Do' list or at least it has been for sometime.

And I am also very attracted to the idea of committing one week of service to the local Boston community. My worlds are colliding on the one week in June that I have had blocked out for two years. Two years! You'd think the Open sent me a Save the Date card in 2007 and that I have had it taped to my desk.

But life is full of wonderful and life-giving decisions where you are constantly asked to juggle parties or responsibilities or even choices where there is no right or wrong answer.

And pardon my optimism, but that really is a great thing.

Planning a vacay makes you happy

2010-02-23T08:22:00.000-08:00

The NYTimes recently did a story about vacation and vacation planning making people happy. I think their assessment seems right that when people take the time to plan a vacation there is a heightened sense of happiness in their lives. I'm following that lead and planning something impromptu next week.
If you follow the blog, you might just figure out where I'll be heading.

The story is linked below...

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/02/18/how-vacations-affect-your-happiness/?src=tptw

A conversation with a former co-worker brought on this sudden desire to escape for a few days. She is taking a week off before her comprehensive exams to go horse back riding in Arizona. I was floored. And then my mind began to wander.

Where I may be heading probably won't have as much open space, but I may see a horse or two.

Have an amazing day!

I want to make an application video

2010-02-22T11:44:00.000-08:00

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2010/02/22/education/tufts.html

The NYT has done an interesting story on applicants for Tufts University.

Two thoughts -
1) These students are creative with their videos.
2) Any way possible grad schools will accept application videos?

Oh the joys of revision

2010-02-20T09:22:00.000-08:00

That's a photo of the first and second part of my project that I'm revising today. Well, that is only half of what I"m rewriting. It took a few days for me to regain my courage to write again or even look at the words I threw down on paper. I'm hiding in a castle, writing and editing on this beautiful winter day after a week of dragging my feet and finding encouragement from friends and family. Oh, did I mention that part of that encouragement was a late-night snowball fight?

Technology on a school bus

2010-02-12T07:22:00.000-08:00

(photo credit - NYT)

Any high schooler heading to school on a big yellow bus does not need the Internet during the ride. Period. Technology is certainly necessary within a classroom and in a study space, but a school bus? The New York Times education reporter, Sam Dillon, wrote a story about a high school in Vail, Ariz. where the district has been experimenting with technology on one of their bus routes.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/12/education/12bus.html

That sounds well and good perhaps for adults. But is it necessary on a school bus ride or in between varsity soccer matches? Aren't bus rides great for sleeping, day dreaming or goofing off?

Having never ridden a yellow bus to school for any portion of my schooling, I may not be the best judge of how to interact on a school bus. A long time ago in a world far away from Boston, I wrote a story about a bus ride down the Big Sur coastline. The driver started his day at 5a.m. and had the pleasure of driving a bus load of middle school children and high school children up to schools in Carmel, Calif. Part of the ride was the community on the bus. It was the children sleeping and talking. It was whispering and batting of eyelashes.

I think it might be great for the driver to not be distracted, but I'd imagine part of the job is witnessing adolescence and the transformation children will make from year-to-year.

Oh, technology how we yearn to use you and navigate our lives at the same time.

'Dear..., Please hire me to work with you.'

2010-02-08T15:14:00.000-08:00

That wasn't the opening line to the first e-mail inquiry letter I sent out today, but that was the general feel of what I wanted.

The time has come after 18 months of school to think about re-entering the job world. I am casting a wide net that reaches across North America and everything in the middle. Imagine me hugging a gigantic map.

I promised myself this, 'Dear self, Please send out inquiry e-mails and resumes after the first draft of your synthesis is completed.' And I did just that today to a university in California. This inquiry letter will be followed up with a MAJOR revision of my resume. The resumes that I have been sending out since oh...1997 were all tailored to journalism. Now, I'm sending one out for ministry where my boss may not care so much that I love writing about NASCAR (yes, really). Or that I once wrote about a school bus driver whose route is down to Big Sur on Highway 1. Or perhaps even that the issues of No Child Left Behind in the Salinas Valley are very near and dear to my heart.

But seriously, I will play up my ministry skills and desire to educate students. I will polish my nails on my shirt thinking, 'Yes, I got this.' Oh, and don't forget the head nod.

New statistics are always released RIGHT at deadline? WHY?

2010-02-03T21:20:00.000-08:00

Yay! I just finished and sent in my first draft of the project. I just hit send five minutes ago. The last few days were awful for editing and writing. There was a little restructuring and adding that had to be taken care of before my complete project was ready.

I dedicated the piece to my inaanak's, which means god children in Tagalog. I hope they read it one day. Or I'll just give them the three minute version, which will probably be much cooler.

The last thing for tonight is that I discovered some new statistics were released today regarding social networking and young adults. This stuff was pretty spectacular in terms of proving my point of technology and the way it has become such a big part of the Millennial Generation.

It always happens like that when you're writing something. Just as you finish the last edits, there is a new piece of information you need/want to add in. If I had omitted the fresh stuff, my numbers were going to be a few years old.

I kind of love and hate Pew right now.

http://pewresearch.org/millennials/

A little breather, and then back into the project

2010-01-27T19:58:00.000-08:00

Ah, for a few days it was nice to think that the synthesis project had reached a nice plateau. I planned on finishing the initial writing portion last weekend, and I met that goal. And that was a great feeling.

Having picked the longer option for my synthesis project, I had the option of sending off some of the chapters to my reader, who is assisting me in clarifying my ideas, editing paragraph structure and offering criticism and comments.

And like any editing project, there are questions, comments and ideas I had not considered. Once I had received my copy back on Monday, I wanted to gasp. And then I decided to not look at the copy for two days because there was other work to consider and I wanted to clear away mental debris to dive back into the project.

I was able to clear debris away for a few days and I'm considering leafing through my copies of Writing Tools: 50 Essential Strategies for Every Writer and Strunk and White to get a better handle on my writing.

But editing is editing and it can be a joy and pain at the same time. And this process of writing is something I try to take with small manageable doses. The objective word being, 'try.'

Keeping a notebook around is pretty handy

2010-01-23T13:36:00.000-08:00

This week it has been a struggle to get past the last section of the thesis. Partially, because I don't want this last chapter to be flat. I also want to be innovative and use some suggestions for ministry that were touched upon in the books that I had researched.

More than anything, it has also been a week of stopping and starting. Instead of being able to focus four or five days a week to writing, it has been two days. That has been the biggest change since school began Tuesday.

The idea forming has come very slowly this week. As a way to jump start my thoughts, I have outlined my points on a chalkboard and whiteboard on different occasions. The written outline I submitted to my thesis advisor remains the same, but the ideas I hope to extract from it has become a bit of a struggle.

Trying to break through the block, I began an idea session on Wednesday night. I just created a word association chart on the board. It helped me gather ideas for that immediate moment as I finished my introduction and editing of chapters 1 through 4. But the best part came as I prepared for bed that night.

After turning out the lights, ideas were flying through my mind. I was trying to stop my brain for a moment to rest, but it did not work so well. Instead, I arose several times in the next 30 minutes to write down ideas and construct thoughts. I left my room, entered my office space and scribbled a few more words down. Back to bed I went. Then two minutes later, more ideas came across. Again, I left the comfy flannel sheets and plodded off to my desk for a moment or two.

Literally, this continued for 30 or 45 minutes until I was out of ideas for the night. It helped me form the last chapter and in coming days it helped me articulate my thesis to colleagues and my supervisor.

I think I laughed as I finally closed my eyes that night. Could my last chapter really have been constructed in a flurry of word associations scribbled on scratch paper in a half-daze? Awesome.

Keeping it fresh in a studious kinda way

2010-01-17T19:26:00.000-08:00

Sitting still or doing a repetitive job can sometimes be on the tedious side. I was attracted to reporting because it meant that each day could be a different adventure. You had a list of things that needed to be finished, but inevitably a better story came through and your day changed.

It created a sense of wonder for the unknown and unexplored, I suppose.

In a way, I have tried to be creative about my writing space for the thesis. The project is academic and I want to think creatively and be inspired by my surroundings. And besides sitting and writing 15,000 words is not something that I salivate over. The longer term projects in journalism were always a struggle. There were constant excuses and stories that arose. Inevitably, I'd drag my feet and then crank something out that was halfway decent.

With this particular writing project, I went ahead and asked a handful of doctoral students how they approached their writing and one professor who finished hers sometime ago. Some offered advice of keeping journals. Others offered changing the music selection they are listening to with each chapter. I even talked to my former journalism professor and a former colleague about how they think about writing.

I enjoy writing and I enjoy talking about writing. I love hearing where people found their inspiration or what their low point was. Having written for newspapers, my own screen play and stand up comedy, I enjoy figuring out where writing will take me next.

My take on this project was to change up my writing location every chapter. It sounds odd, I know. But I was fortunate enough to write half my project in California and half in Massachusetts. At first, I was writing in my home office. Then, I moved to a coffee shop for about a week for Chapter 2. Then, I found a quiet place in one department where I work on campus to write Chapters 3 and 4.

I decided to become adventurous about locations because writing for a six-week period was going to need to invigorate me. I had to come home eager to write after an 8-hour shift of working on computers and computer-related issues. I also had to figure out how to force myself to work in a way that still seemed very fun.

There is still a little push until the project is complete, but thus far it has been exciting. At times, I feel I need to physically stop writing or else I could see myself working well into the next morning. Up to now, it has been fun. I hope writing the last chapter and conclusion will continue to be enjoyable.

New decade, new direction for now

2010-01-07T00:06:00.000-08:00

Since returning to the SF Bay Area for the holidays, I've reconnected with many friends including a handful who are journalists. We have talked mostly about school, relationships and things going on in their lives. They all continue to inspire me. One of my friend's is starting a program in the Salinas Valley geared to help parents learn computer skills to help their children. And a former professor is trying to create a Web site that will publish all the deaths in Santa Clara County which is no easy task.

I listened intently to both individuals talk about their dreams and passions. It is good to hear friends and colleagues are continuing to do well and inspire others.

Along that vain I had the pleasure of talking about writing with these two people. They are both great writers who listen and are great sounding boards. I was able to talk about the writing process with them as I am in the midst of writing my synthesis project.

And with that, I came up with a sort of temporary direction for this blog for the next six to eight weeks. I'm taking one writing tool that has helped or inspired me for this synthesis project and expanding it each week.

I have decided that if more people thought about writing from a different angle, then the synthesis project might not be so unwieldy. Admittedly, I enjoy it though. I mean, talking about writing that is.

The last point is that, since this is a journalism and ministry blog this is the perfect space to talk about my writing project and what I find helpful.

Ahem...writing find No. 1 -

Creating a timeline, and telling other people about it -

We have a deadline of Feb. 1 for the first draft of the synthesis project for the MA students in the program. That can mean writing anywhere from 25 pages to 70 pages. I'm on the later half of that.

I set little goals in December and this first part of January of where I wanted to be. I vocalized my plans to others, who either supported me or thought it was a little nuts. I wanted to finish at least one chapter before I left for vacation and another while I was back in Calif.

I told others around me which helped me hear myself out loud. And it also seemed to create a layer of accountability that I wanted to stick to.

The point is not for others to jump on my back or be responsible for making sure I complete the work, but more for me to hear myself out loud and reinforce how much this project and this timeline are to me.

Goodbye to '09 and a fun decade of aughts

2009-12-31T12:56:00.000-08:00

Several hours and a few hundred miles worth of driving around the SF Bay has really not been the inspiration I was looking for to create the last blog of the year.

There was a mad rush of pop songs that I learned and new buildings that I saw. But nothing that grabbed me by the shoulders and throttled me.

So, I'll end with a mish mash of ideas and thoughts that seemed noteworthy and pertinent.

And I'm going with eight ideas because it just happens to be my favorite number.

8) California is still stunning and beautiful. Stunning views and coastlines that are not private or protected like they are on the East Coast. I love that beaches are very accessible. The beauty also includes the many family and friends who reach out and stay in touch.

7) 'Ya know when you hit your early 30s is when you witness many of your friends getting married.' This year was filled with many weddings and engagements for many of my high school friends, some relatives and others from various places in my life. It is beautiful to see many people live out their vocations. I have been able to see a few of them since returning for this holiday break and it is wonderful to see them in the newly married glow.

6) Speaking of vocations...I have also had the great fortune of having many friends who were ordained priests or deacons this year. That is another great vocation. And it is wonderful to talk to several of my friends about their new ministries.

5) Babies everywhere the eye can see. Can you see a pattern here? I love coming back to California and spending time with my friends and their kids. Watching classmates, cousins and friends transform into good parents kinda brings a warmth to my heart.

4) Technology transforms lives. After thinking and starting my thesis aka synthesis project I have realized that I have a newfound respect for technology. I really enjoy reading and learning about technology. And I love making connections between technology and ministry even more.

3) School is cool. The program at Boston College has remained challenging and nurturing. Studying on the East Coast is everything I thought it would be and more. Opportunities to study not only at Boston College, but also at Harvard and Boston University were very great learning opportunities this past semester.

2) Building community never gets easy, but its rewards make it worth the struggle. The constant theme that has come to light for me in the later half of the year is community. That can mean parish community, school community, family community, community of friends, etc. This year was a convergence of many of my communities coming together and in some areas strengthened.

1) Service to others. Even though it has been nine months since I have returned from Jamaica and the international service trip, the emotion and experience is still very present in my life. I enjoyed that entire experience immensely. It created new avenues of thinking and praying that I am grateful for. It strengthened bonds between friends.

I saved the service trip for last for so many reasons that include personal areas of growth, prayer, spirituality and God.

Although it was not explicitly written into the mish mash of ideas, family was another constant theme that brought me strength and sanity. Family was woven into many of those ideas up above from beauty, California, vocation and service to others.

This year was memorable and this decade even more so as I managed to attend a total of three colleges and try out two different professions.

Thanks for following (if you're still reading this) and best of luck for amazing and blessed 2010.

To infinity and beyond!

"I gotta feeling..."

2009-12-10T07:28:00.000-08:00

“I gotta a feeling…

You have heard the song. It was all the rage this summer bumping its way through clubs, car stereo’s and iPods. It is on repeat on my MacBook right now. I’m so close to tasting the end of the semester, it is amazing.

…I know we’ll have a ball…

Do you ever get to that point in your week where you sit back and think, “Wow, this is amazing.” I had that moment just right now as I was leafing through a copy of The Elements of Style and A Manual for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations. Dorked out again, but this time with writing guides. Love it!

…Jump off the sofa lets get it off…

I am finishing my third semester of graduate school and preparing to write my thesis. It sounds scary and looks even scarier, but it also looks like a fun mountain to climb right now. I have enjoyed meshing my two worlds of communication and ministry into one paper. Who knew writing at the graduate school level could be so much fun?

…let’s do it…

Perhaps it is more fun in a challenging way. Learning this new writing style of research papers is a different thing in my life. I am used to consulting the AP Style book, but now there is a style manual for theses writers. Love it!

…round and round, up and down, around the clock…

And now that I will be engaging in a longer term writing project for the next two months, it will be a push at times to create and write. But once again I am praying that the love of writing will carry me through to the end.

…Woohoo”

“Yes, I’m alive.”

2009-11-27T19:49:00.000-08:00

Entering into the holiday season, I jump on the bandwagon of genuine thankfulness. It is not so much that I want to go around and hug everyone, although that is probably the case most days. This is the time of the semester when the world starts to cave in and my studies engulf me.

But this time it is much different. My schedule was very heavy in the middle of the semester and has tapered off in the end. The recent reminder of becoming thankful was a text from a good friend.

I have been avoiding many gatherings and social events much of the semester because I was tired from school, work or ministry. I had left many of my communities behind during the months of October and November because there was much to accomplish.

Without any substantial contact with good friends, it felt a little isolating and busy working through one project after another. This all slowed down after the conclusion of my last retreat and after a weekend trip to New York for a friend’s wedding.

A good friend of mine sent a random text last week, ‘Hi. Are you alive.” I laughed a little but mostly out of embarrassment. It had not crossed my mind to call, text or e-mail him. I became wrapped up in the bubble that is my world. Immediately after he sent the text, I called him and apologized for my sudden disappearance.

I am thankful for friends and loved ones who managed to reach out to me continually throughout the past two crazy months because I was too busy to think about scheduling time to talk or catch up. Texts like, ‘Hi Are you alive,’ kept me laughing and going.

I will be paying it forward in coming weeks. If you know me and I have your number, do not be surprised if you get a text that says, “Hi! Are you alive?” And if it happens to be that you are too busy to text back send a quick message that says, “Yes, I’m alive.”

Paradise and peace aboard Lake Shore

2009-11-23T20:53:00.000-08:00

There are two things I love more than anything else: The Sunday NY Times and rides aboard Amtrak. Those are and will always continue to be markers in my life that indicate a slower pace of life and a flag to slow down. I’m going to sound like I belong in train riders anonymous but it has been 10 years since my last ride on Amtrak.

The last time I chugged along the rail lines, I was in college for the first time. I was returning home after a trip to visit a friend in Central California. The train wound around majestic mountains and for a brief moment there was a peak at the Pacific Ocean. I think I wrote a long love letter to a guy I was dating at the time. I packed my backpack with various CDs and danced in the back of the train.

Now, I’m 10 years older and I’m seated beside a book about Native American Liberation Theology. I’m armed with iTunes and my MacBook. I have about six hours before I’ll arrive home tonight. But this journey is supposed to decompress my last three weekends on the road with students and friends. I’m heading home after a friend’s wedding in New York.

I spoiled myself a little today with the $6.00 purchase of a Sunday edition of the NYT. It does cost a bit to support daily journalism, but it is worth it. The Sunday edition gives the reader so many opportunities to delve into the creative and untouched. When I was working full-time, the Sunday newspaper was my only companion most Sundays until I attended the 5:30 p.m. Mass at San Carlos Cathedral. It gave me room to breathe. There was never any pressure to do anything except read, read, read.

It calms me to read the Book Review and the Travel Section. The conversation and ambiance of a train ride seems a little more peaceful to me. You chug by at a slow, slow speed. You peak into people’s backyards and wave to toddlers hoisted above their mother’s shoulders waiting to wave to the train conductor.

I really don’t think there is any other way to ride the train than with the notion of reading a book or newspaper or even composing a letter or in this case a blog.

Three weeks of travel, longing for continuity

2009-11-20T11:11:00.001-08:00

It has been a long three weeks of back-to-back retreat weekends and group projects. Logistically, the past month has been a nightmare trying to get to planning meetings and one-on-one meetings with students.

I was lucky enough to spend the first weekend of November on a Halftime Retreat with the Intersections Project of Boston College. This weekend is dedicated to helping students find their vocation. My job on this retreat was to prepare a team of eight undergrads to lead their groups and give powerful talks. The experience was priceless. It was challenging at times trying to meet people at all hours of the day and night. A few meetings went past 10:30 p.m. and my work schedule required that I be up and ready to go at 8:30 a.m. the next morning. It was a little brutal, but definitely worth it.

The relationships I forged on that retreat certainly strengthened my desire to continue in ministry with young people and college students.

Last weekend I was on retreat with Salt and Light. This group is my contextual ed placement through the STM. My job is to spend about eight hours a week with that program working on a variety of tasks and meeting with students. I had a minimal role on this retreat and prepared the team building activities. Working with this retreat reminded me of retreats I would have gone on in high school. There were fun games and activities. And our snack spread was pretty delicious.

Those who know me asked if I was ready to spend back-to-back weekends on retreat and I said, ‘Yes.’ It took huge amounts of energy to peddle through the second week, but the emotional returns were powerful. It is never ideal to spend consecutive weekends away from graduate studies, but somehow it worked in the end.

Now, I’m working on a 5-page paper at the Syracuse Airport for the next few hours. I’m awaiting a few folks before I head to a rehearsal dinner for my friend’s wedding. I’ve seen three different states of the country in three weeks and even more important, I was able to engage in relationships and conversations with various people, which is something I certainly will cherish these last few weeks of the semester.

Oh, and I’m really looking forward to spending a weekend in Boston.

Forty eight hours with Three Key Questions

2009-11-08T16:45:00.000-08:00

I’m exhausted, inspired and humbled as I write this. I’m exhausted after spending the past weekend on retreat with forty or so undergraduates talking about vocational discernment.

I’m inspired and humbled by the stories they shared about their faith, their at times dysfunctional families and their college experiences.

Spending the past eight weeks, preparing my eight leaders for a weekend Halftime retreat was a fun and tiring experience. It is nothing new for anyone who has worked closely with teenagers or college students. You work late into the night preparing for and getting everyone pumped for the event. You amble into meetings after a 10-hour day of school and work and you just don’t know how much energy you can give.

But they inspired me with their desires to be hopeful and to be intentional. There were so many people that made instant connections and hopefully lifelong friendships. One woman and I talked about journalism after she told me she worked with the NY Times for a spell. Another young woman and I started chatting about the Philippines and our respective families still living there. One young lady was struggling and had reached rock bottom, and we sat for awhile trying to joke and laugh.

All of this gives me a warm feeling inside as I sit surrounded with the idea that learning to push others is where I see my own growth. I learn how to be supportive and understanding. I also learn about showing compassion and gratitude. And personal handwritten notes for the team go a long way toward confidence building.

Now, after spending the last eight Sunday nights going over the Three Key Questions such as 1) What gives me joy, 2) What am I good at? And 3) Who does the world need me to be?

I’m a little misty-eyed about Sunday nights now that I have them to study instead of plan. It is a good feeling of accomplishment and an even greater feeling of humility.

One never really stops being a journalist

2009-11-04T05:59:00.000-08:00

These past two days I have really thought about whether or not I could consider myself a journalist. I attended a presentation last night about a book on the UFW and Cesar Chavez. The presentation was given by a woman who considers herself a journalist and as someone who worked in the profession for 25 years.

Anyhow, the talk itself was interesting. I learned a little bit of history about the United Farm Worker movement and Chavez, which were both big topics for me in Monterey, Calif. as an education and crime reporter. I was on the edge of my seat most of the time because there was so much information being detailed that helped connect the pieces of my former job and region of the country.

After the talk there were 20 minutes for questions and answers, and I asked one about the backlash of the book and perhaps the reaction from the UFW and communities that were highlighted. I identified myself as a journalist first and asked the question. The author said she is not their favorite person right now.

Soon after we were dismissed a man from the talk came up and said, 'Oh, you are a journalist?' And I said, "Well, I worked as a journalist in that community until last year, but now I'm a student studying ministry and theology at BC." Then, he said, "Oh, I thought you said you were a journalist when you introduced yourself."

I left it at that and grabbed crackers to go. It was an awkward feeling having him dismiss the fact that I was not currently pursuing a major story or lead. I have done freelance journalism occasionally in Boston and I have a gig or two lined up post-graduation.

As a journalist you are taught to look at things differently and question everything. You develop a certain sense about people and you pursue the truth with a passion. That never leaves you. Being more than a year outside of daily journalism, I introduce myself as a journalist from time-to-time and that may never change.

Hug a tree!

2009-10-30T07:45:00.000-07:00

Sometime between the ages of 10 and 12-years-old I decided that the earth would be my best friend. I created sayings on my shirt that said, 'Save The Earth Now,' and gave myself the nickname of STEN, which is very much that acronym plastered for the world to see. My younger brother will lovingly call me that when I'm back home in California.

I ran for and was elected to the position of Safety and Ecology Officer for my Catholic grade school. I wrote letters to groups within the school encouraging them to use recycled paper and not use styrofoam. I made my own recycled paper and wrote letters on it. I created an image of the earth using blue and green felt and put that on a large T-shirt to wear to the ninth grade dance in high school. Oh, I'm a total dork.

This is much to much information coming out now as an adult. But in a roundabout way all those initial desires and accomplishments as a child have resurfaced through graduate school. I am studying with John Hart, a professor of Christian Ethics, who has published many things on the environment and I'm drawn to theologians who take the environment into consideration.

Two days ago I had the pleasure of listening to theologian Sally McFague give a talk on Cities, Climate Change, and Christianity: Religion and Sustainable Urbanism. It was many of my favorite topics rolled into one talk given by one of my favorite theologians. She stressed thinking of the earth as a body instead of a machine that constantly creates new life for us. She talked about decisions she has had to make to live a more sustainable lifestyle. She made me laugh.
She told us we want too much and we need to stop wanting more.

The list can go on and oftentimes does when it comes to my passion of the environment. Looking through my window this morning, I see the yellowish, orange and red leaves. And there is that crisp feeling when you step outside wearing a sweater and corduroys.

On the bus ride home the night after McFague's talk, I began reflecting on the lifestyle I live and how to be more conscious of the environment. I mulled around theologial and practical ideas. Her thought about always wanting more resonated with me. It was the 11-year-old version of me, who wanted to call her friends and tell them about this amazing talk combining many passions. It takes commitment and passion for sure. It needs to also be a realization of what is feasiable and doable.

But in the meantime, as I wind down the month of October, I can only think of going back to Calif. to find that T-shirt. I mean, come on, who doesn't want to walk around school with a gigantic earth sewn onto your BC sweatshirt?

Unplugging to regain sanity

2009-10-25T20:16:00.000-07:00

My favorite saying these days revolves around words such as busy, overwhelmed, strained. It has been a tough second year thus far. My commitments are more time consuming than my academics. However, my academics completely engross me. It is a fine balance between desire, understanding and commitment.

Working close to 30 hours a week and taking two classes is probably not the easiest schedule to balance, but it happens somehow. Somehow I plug away at commitments, papers, and readings. And somehow I manage to squeeze in breakfast dates, dinner catch-up conversations and exercise outings. Those keep me sane and the rest continues to stir stuff up.

In recent days I have decided that it was time to let go of unnecessary things temporarily to better use my time. I stopped updating my Facebook status six days ago because it seemed to be one more activity that could be cut down. I also figured calls and e-mails could suffice for the time being. I have also decided to no longer use my MP3 player during short commutes since it does not leave me open to opportunities for spontaneous conversations or a yell from a friend on campus. Actually, an undergrad I work with told me specifically that I should not use headphones because people might want to stop me and start a conversation. I said, "Well, ok. I will leave the music at home and pay more attention on campus." I love that she scolded me for behavior that creates barriers instead of breaks them down.

Interestingly enough since dropping the obsessive FB habit, several people from my past have reconnected. A high school friend was in town last week and we had plenty of catch up time. And two friends from California also randomly called this week to say 'hello.' I could not have been more grateful to have been on their minds and perhaps in their hearts. I figure people reach out when they want and that is what makes the gift of friendship so amazing.

To foster a greater sense of connection I have also begun writing letters on Friday nights. It sounds silly, but it calms me. The world is too frantic and too fast. Numbers, text messages and e-mails zip by with little to no emotion.

I have about three more weeks of crazy and intense days filled with multiple meetings, planning excursions and undergraduate retreats. In lieu of Facebook I'll be writing letters because I can and because I like keeping the US Postal Service in business.

Who doesn't love Carl Kassell?

2009-10-09T20:34:00.000-07:00

I found myself really, really wanting to see a live taping of NPR's news quiz show, 'Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me,' which was visiting Boston this week. And I really wanted to see how the show was put together and most of all listen to Carl Kassell down below. Kassell, who is the show's score keeper and judge, is loved by many. Oh yea, he'll also record something on your home answering machine if you win at one of the quiz sections.

This was the second time the show was coming through in as many years. And gosh darn it I was not going to miss it.I eagerly waited to buy tickets, but being a graduate student I had no money for such frivolous things. Tickets sold out early and I couldn't find a cheap ticket online.

I figured that it might be worth it to head down there in the off chance someone had an extra ticket.

I walked through the scenario in my head. I wouldn't leave until 20 minutes into the show just in case someone ran up with an extra ticket to spare. And I would swallow my pride and ask strangers for a little kindness. And it would be a fun experiment. And if it failed, since many of my ideas are not always the best thought out, I would have a story to tell other public radio fanatics. And being a former newspaper reporter, I'm quite used being shot down so emotionally I was ready.

As soon as I arrived at the theater I walked around hoping to see someone awaiting a die-hard fan like myself to his or her extra tickets. No such luck. These public radio listeners clutched firmly onto their tickets and Blackberries communicating with friends who were arriving late or having trouble parking.

I was starting to sweat and wondering if I had wasted my Thursday night trying to get into my favorite show. I thought about leaving and not being a beggar. Part of me felt a little foolish. But part of me felt giddy just standing outside waiting for something spectacular to happen.

I figured I'd create a sign from my notebook that read, "Wanted - Extra Ticket to Wait, Wait...

-Big fan dying to get in." And then I stood near the theater holding the sign and hoping someone had an extra ticket to unload. People walking past smiled and wished me luck. I shouted out to a few friendly faces saying, "Got an extra ticket?" I kept smiling and thinking, "These people think I'm nuts."

Eventually a young couple came up and said they may have an extra ticket. They wanted to check with a friend before they made any promises. And five minutes later the returned with ticket in hand! Aha!

Quickly realizing that fate was shining upon me, I put the sign away and thrust $50 into the guy's hand. It was two dollars above face value. I leapt for joy as I wandered through the lobby and up three flights of stairs to center balcony.

There I was several hundred yards from the stage. I was going to be part of the audience to yell, scream and holler at the jokes and wisecracks. It was amazingly fun and I laughed and yelled so hard my throat was sore.

I stayed through the question and answer session and at times stared at the ceiling with a silly grin on my face. Ah, there is nothing like ending a stressful week with your favorite radio show.

The fall semester and kickin it with awesome women

2009-09-14T16:48:00.000-07:00

Life this semester is back in full swing. The homework has been assigned and there are mountainous pages to read in coming weeks. One of my classes has hundreds of pages of reading and lots of presentations and papers. Well, hundreds is an over statement but it seems quite close. The other has a little less reading and one class presentation. However, we are encouraged to use movies and Youtube which I'm throughly excited about.

I've begun using Google Calender, Gmail, Google Documents, and G-mail alert on my laptop to help organize the crazy schedule. I'm just short of being a Google fanatic.

The other big revelation in my life is something I have come to realize in recent years about how and where I spend my time. Ever since I was 5-years-old my best friends have been guys. My best friend in kindergarten invited me to his birthday party and we were playing in the tree house when they took the ladder away. I've played high school golf on the boys golf team. And I was the first girl at my high school to play on the boys team. I slip into conversations about sports much easier than I think. This reinforced itself a few days ago when my younger brother called me for advice on fantasy football. Thus making me 'one of the guys' ever since I can remember.

But this decade of the 30s is about change. I"m trying to speak passionately, but it sounds awfully goofy. I revealed to a guy friend a few weeks back that one thing I'm excited about this semester is improving relationships with women. I have been fortunate to have spent some time with a handful of women this summer who are brilliant, calm, hilarious, fun-loving, silly and sophisticated. A few of the women I'd known from around school and a few others were ones I just happened to strike up persistent conversations with. The reporter in me never goes away.

My cousins would laugh if they read this and my mom would start clapping in her chair. Ha, it only took 30 years for me to come around, but I guess it is better late than never.

Belated anniversary post

2009-08-31T05:38:00.000-07:00

I titled this one 'Belated anniversary post' because I figure it has been more than a year since I began writing this blog. But I'm not a big fan of newspaper columnists who mark their columns with anniversary musings. I guess I'm conflicted of all things about writing or titling this piece.

I wanted to create a list of 31 things I loved about being in my 30s to post in this space, but I didn't. I thought about doing a reflection piece to take my readers back to where I was a year ago, but I opted not to spend 500 words or so doing that.

And then this morning over a breakfast of Jasmine Green tea, oatmeal and bananas the thought came to me - birthdays in my 30s. Ok, so I have not had that many but stick with the theme for now.

Last year my birthday was spent walking into orientation at the School of Theology and Ministry. We were treated to a light breakfast, faculty/staff introductions and then we were divided into smaller groups to talk about our programs and ourselves. Throughout the day I was receiving text messages and voice mails from folks out West. It was an overwhelming feeling kicking off a new decade and synthesizing all that needed to be accomplished academically in the next two years. Dinner that night was a simple celebration.

And this year my birthday was spent hauling boxes up and down stairs and then trying to downsize after a year of living on the East Coast. I moved into a new place that was closer to school and smaller than the house I was living in previously. Dinner and dessert this year were another simple celebration.

There is all this new energy being pumped into the earlier part of my 30s and it has been enjoyable thus far. The last few birthdays of my 20s were spent with friends at local establishments in California or at a park when my relatives through a gigantic end-of-summer picnic and birthday celebration.

But my 25th birthday was spent here in Boston - with my friend Melissa. It was a whirlwind weekend of seeing the town, meeting her friends and then wondering if I'd ever end up out here.

And now I'm here and she's decided to move on a few hours south of me. Even though it sounds kind of uninteresting to celebrate one milestone birthday at a student orientation and another one moving into a new place, these will probably become among the most memorable.

These were not extravagant birthdays by any stretch. They were simple celebrations of life and change that can only be marked by a late summer birthday.

Awh, heck if I were not so lazy I think I might scroll up to the top and re-title this, 'simple yet memorable.'

My first Sunday reflection

2009-08-26T20:46:00.001-07:00

http://home.comcast.net/~hschurch/audio_homilies/1clarissa_aug09.mp3

My former parish - Holy Spirit in Fremont, Calif. - records all their homilies.

I was fortunate enough to take a crack at a Sunday reflection last week. It was great learning experience. It was a little crazy. The readings were interesting to reflect on since the second reading from Ephesians is one I had a tough time with.

Check it out if you'd like...this was one of my earlier Masses. Oh yea, I said the reflection for seven Masses that Sunday.

My favorite sunsets

2009-08-19T16:44:00.000-07:00

These two photographs are among the many things I miss about living in Monterey County. The sunsets are amazing. Ahh....

“The breaking of the glass”

2009-08-11T11:10:00.000-07:00

The sound of glass breaking at Asilomar Beach on Sunday was blissful. No, it was not some clumsy tourist stepping on his glass of Chateau Julien Merlot. It was an official sound of Jon and Brandy getting married.

According to The Knot the “breaking of the glass” is the official sound of Jewish Weddings. Having been witness to my first Jewish wedding this weekend I can agree.

Two longtime friends, who also worked with me at the Monterey County Herald, tied the knot this weekend at Asilomar Beach. It was a beautiful wedding at a beach they both loved exploring. The couple has since moved to Southern California, but their romance began and blossomed in Monterey County where they met in the newsroom.

We were young reporters at the time with sparkles in our eyes for changing the world one or two stories at a time. We stayed out late after our evening meetings complaining about our editors or our sources. We also gripped about the difficulty we encountered finding and dating smart, good-looking and fun people in the area. Maybe I’m just projecting?

It was hard to socialize in an area that was known for its tourism, its agriculture and its old people. I’m not ashamed to admit it. But on the upside it had beautiful hiking and biking trails. The sunsets were amazing if the fog did not roll in. And the co-workers were very exceptional.

Anyhow, back to the wedding festivities. I witnessed the Ketubah signing which The Knot refers to as the Jewish Wedding contract. And at the ceremony I saw the Huppah and the Circling. And the best part was witnessing the Hora or “Hava Nagila” where the bride and groom are hoisted on chairs as we dance below them.

A friend of mine joked that I should earn credit toward my pastoral ministry degree for attending and participating in the wedding. I read a poem written by Pablo Neruda during the ceremony.

Eh, if my advisors go for it then so would I. Having completed my sacraments requirement toward my degree, I appreciated the words exchanged at the ceremony.I enjoyed the rituals and saw the meaning in what the couple had chosen. I could expound on the spirituality and the bodiliness in the Ketubah.

Regardless of my wistful comments, it was a good time with old friends. I’m certainly glad I could fly back to California to witness a unifying of great friends whose relationship was built on laughter, check mates and love.

Summer on the East Coast

2009-08-04T20:45:00.000-07:00

The goal this summer was to really enjoy the East Coast and all it had to offer. This meant a month of summer school and a little traveling. My travels have taken me to Yankee Stadium, Times Square at midnight, a bike ride through Central Park in NYC and to South Philadelphia for delicious cheesesteaks.

They were not on the original list of summer plans but sometimes a little impromptu thinking is all that I need to be nudged in a new direction. My original plans included the Cape, Gloucester and a tour of Civil War battlegrounds. None of those happened in these past few months.

I'm gearing up to head home for three weeks and three weddings. I've got a homily to construct and sunsets to watch. I have a loosely planned Calif. vacation since there are so many activities that will need full participation.

Recently, I'd exchanged e-mails with a longtime friend who I have not seen for years. I quickly recounted my summer for him and he said that I was fully engaged in life and squeezing every drop out of it. I was mulling that over today and I like it.

Tip Sheet from Recession Conversation 07.21.09

2009-07-21T21:59:00.000-07:00

A Tip Sheet for Finding Inexpensive Ways to Counsel and Guide People Through the Recession

Trying to walk and chew gum at the same time

2009-07-20T20:12:00.000-07:00

Following through with ideas and plans has not really been a strong suit. I make plans and they fall by the wayside or I get a little lazy.
This week I have planned to lead a discussion about how our churches and dioceses have helped their communities deal with the recession. The goal was to host it during the summer when a myriad of summer students with diverse backgrounds from teaching, to counseling to parenting cross paths for six weeks at the School of Theology and Ministry.
The Summer Session is traditionally for the more mature crowd that does not have the time during the school year to devote to earning an MA in pastoral ministry or spiritual direction. And the Summer Institute makes it possible to finish in MA over summers.

I figured the conversation would be a good way to merge my interests in pastoral ministry with my experience in newspapers along with the Newspaper Guild. I was very involved with my newspaper in Calif. after we had two rounds of layoffs. We had meetings and conversations and called people at home to see what they needed. We looked at the big picture and asked questions of ourselves and what we could do better or what we did that was horrible.

Now, I'm trying to put those skills to use in my current environment to help other people find resources or ideas that they can take back once they finish with summer school.

One of my professors came up to me today and said, "I heard you are talking about important things tomorrow." And then I invited her to join us at 2:15 p.m. Tues, July 21, at Voute Hall in Room 310.

It won't be me talking about important things as it will be more like giving others an opportunity to exchange ideas.

Just like old times…sort of.

2009-07-01T07:55:00.000-07:00

Part of the reason I managed to survive the first 10 months out of journalism was due to my friend and former co-worker Julie. We left the Monterey Herald about the same time last year and our destination was Boston. She would be on a prestigious one-year journalism fellowship at Harvard and I trying to navigate pastoral ministry at Boston College. Well, the time has come for her to leave and gosh darn I'm a little sad.

Before we left California we had these grand dreams of what we would see and do while in the Northeast. We talked about what life would be like without a car. We wondered what good looking and well-dressed men we would meet in Boston. We cracked jokes about what it would be like to not be at the Herald.

She would invite me to events and bars in Cambridge. I would invite her to parties at my house where grad students gathered to talk ministry, politics and watch ‘The Office.’ Once in awhile we gathered in Cambridge to talk office stuff like what editors from the Herald were saying or if anyone was laid off. Or sometimes it was just a chance to talk about the journalism industry or talk about our friends.

Repeatedly she asked if I missed journalism.. And I do miss parts of it. I miss the people and the pace of life in Monterey. I miss the cynical folks in the newsroom and the police scanner. I would also miss the occasional night shift where I spent way too long listening to tales of woe from my cop and firefighter friends.

We managed to persevere through an academic year. We wrote fantastic papers and participated in lively discussions. I feel that the leap from journalism to ministry would have been tough without her. She always had exciting stories about classes she was taking or events she was invited to attend such as meeting Archbishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa. How friggin cool is that?
Journalists always have the craziest stories.

When and if I needed a journalism fix I called or e-mailed her. I wanted to know the inside scoop or what big stories were being told. At times I wanted to feel like I was still in the mix of daily journalism.

A few mutual friends came to visit during the year and it was nice catching up on their lives and newspapers. We’d raise a glass of wine to celebrate change and our desire to pursue our dreams. It seemed nice to breathe a sigh of relief, even if it was temporary.

She goes back to the Herald and to sunny California.. And I have another frigid winter ahead of me. Last night I was invited to attend a farewell party for her and a few of her colleagues in Cambridge. For a moment I was taken back to my days as a newspaper reporter as everyone around me talked about stories, projects or goals that were up next. And like any good party that Julie invites me to, it starts early and goes until very late. But that’s the sign of good people, good vibes and darn good fun.

I wonder whatever happened to Ms. Heckman's class?

2009-06-21T00:19:00.000-07:00

Every so often I become incredibly homesick. But the homesickness is not necessarily for family but for journalism and sometimes the people I met through newspapers.
There were always the people I needed to know such as college presidents, city council members, school board members and presidents of the PTA.
And there were the people who I had the privilege of knowing such as the fourth graders at Greenfield Elementary School in 2008. This rowdy bunch of 20 fourth graders in the Salinas Valley were my life for a school year.
I followed them as they learned multiplication, essay writing and sometimes English. I met them in August of 2007 and followed them every few weeks for 10 months.
As 9-year-olds they were an inquisitive bunch asking if I had a family, a boyfriend or children. One young girl loved the pair of dangling earrings I had on one day. Another boy once asked if I would help advertise puppies that his family was trying to give away. Secretly, I wanted to take all of them for a play date at the park.
There are people and sources from my newspaper life that I miss dearly. The students are sometimes part of that bunch.
People in the migrant community of Greenfield struck me as hardworking and honest folks. I will never forget the afternoon I had walked into one family’s simple home – a converted home – and had an experience that left me speechless for days.
I was spending some time visiting the students’ homes during parent-teacher conference week. The teacher wanted to visit a student’s home to get to know their families, their pets and their living situation. This helped form a concrete relationship as well as help her establish what might be going on at home that could affect a student’s performance in the classroom. Some of these students were living with as many as 15 people in a three-bedroom home.
Anyhow, one particular afternoon we pull into the front of the house searching for Erika, a bubbly 9-year-old whose brown hair was sometimes worn in braids and who spoke no English . We quickly discover that the family lives in a part of the house that had been converted. The teacher knocks on the door and a beautiful Oaxacan woman answers in a sparkly black top and blue jeans. This top is something you would see someone wear out to dinner on a Friday night.
We’re welcomed into their home and the young student greets us with a smile. We walk past two tiny bedrooms and into the master bedroom that had a simple carpet and a pile of blankets as furniture. Erika excitedly sits across from her father as I sit cross-legged on the floor. Her father taught himself how to spell his name and never received any education.
But the part of the evening that stuck with me was their poverty. He asked the teacher if she knew where he could get some extra money for food because some nights they would go without dinner. Their bedroom furniture was a television, a dresser and blankets. Everyone slept on the floor. Erika’s desk was often her textbook that she could use for her homework.
I remember driving back to the newspaper that night partially crying. I wanted so much to help them. Something inside me moved that night to really consider ministry full-time instead of journalism. I was tired of writing stories. I wanted to act.
I never saw the family again and the young girl left the school before the year ended. When I arrived one morning to find out that my favorite student was gone I was surprised. I wanted to know if she would be ok? And if her father still had work?
He had found a better job and three weeks before school ended he moved his family.
Stories and people like Erika often flutter through my mind. They were anonymous yet important to my spirituality. If I managed to find them today in the Salinas Valley I would say, ‘Gracias por inspirar a mí.’

Recharging my fun batteries

2009-06-06T22:33:00.001-07:00

I have never been a great fan of second chances. I dislike the mulligan in golf. And the one time an ex-boyfriend tried to come back into my life, I made it clear that second chances were not something that I supported.

But life is odd because in so many ways I have been given second chances at life and even more so within careers. And the older I’m getting the more I realize that the second chance is just another opportunity to become a better person. The stubborn side of me wants to ask ‘Why wasn’t I perfect the first time around?’ Each opportunity to re-do something is a way to learn a clearer path toward a project or a career.

The greatest do-over I experienced lately was the summer vacation. There are no right or wrong ways to do summer vacations, but the key is just to have one and experience it like a child. Being in between the regular school year and summer classes I have realized that there was not much time to get a summer job. Between flights back to California, a retreat, summer school and more vacation time in California there would be no time to hold down any sort of employment. Once I came to the realization that my ‘summer job’ would most likely be freelancing, I decided that the month of June would be spent enjoying life and writing.

I wanted to make sure I had an awesome East Coast summer. That has meant going to the beach, taking random trips in cars and of course, New York City. I’m trying to freelance in between day trips and weekend adventures. And the more I meet with people the more story ideas I have found among friends and classmates. The real trick is if any of these ideas sell, but I guess I will figure that out once I hit send on my e-mail account.

Working in journalism for almost eight years, I never really took a summer vacation after my junior year of high school. It is the saddest story ever. Well, not ever, but you get the picture. We were encouraged as young writers to find as many internships as possible. We had to stack up the experience to show our potential employers how awesome our clips were and how hard we hustled for 10 or 12-weeks during the summer. It all made so much sense to have a working summer. I began writing for newspapers the summer before my 19th birthday and stopped shortly before my 30th birthday.

And the summers I spent as a newspaper reporter were really lame. I never had money to visit exciting places. I could never take more than a week off work because of my own paranoia of missing a story or missing work. It is the same sad story many other young professionals have. With the shortened vacations I tried to take road trips with friends or watch baseball but it was not the same. There always seemed to be story ideas, or projects or back-to-school themes that I was thinking of when I took a few days off from my life as a journalist. Part of that stems from my desire to squeeze every moment of work and fun out of my day.

This summer will no doubt be busy once school starts in early July. I will be studying all day and night on subjects of Ecclesiology and Pastoral Trauma. I love that being in graduate school has recharged my fun batteries. It has been fantastic getting up these past few mornings to create an adventure as my day has rolled along. Sometimes it is a solo adventure and other times in groups.

On a recent call to my parents I remarked that I had a fun evening in New York City with old friends. I saw the new Yankees Stadium. I ate hot dogs and White Castle burgers within five minutes of each other. I wandered through Times Square at midnight. And most importantly, I caught up with friends. My mom asked me as we were hanging up, “You are having fun aren’t you?” And for the first time in a while I honestly said, “Yes, I’m having a fantastic summer.”

Year No. 1 is what I wanted and more.

2009-05-28T21:18:00.000-07:00

Spring might be my least favorite season. It is undoubtedly beautiful and filled with promise. Here in the Northeast, the change from winter to spring is noticeable with its brilliant hues and bearable temperatures.
Granted it was cold for most of spring. And it rained a little bit.
But the most difficult part about springtime here in the Boston is the significant life changes that I have seemed to witness. Weddings, engagements, graduations and ordinations are all life-giving events but there is a bittersweet taste left behind as friends and relatives embark on new experiences.

When you are on the academic schedule, springtime seems extremely sad. I’m hoping I’m not becoming super ‘emo.’ But that could very well be the case.

You come into spring looking forward to the flowers and laying out on the grass with books or perhaps laptop in hand. There is so much possibility. And yet so much change.

This spring one of the biggest events was my cousin’s wedding. I flew back home after finals to re-join my family for a few weeks. We hastily prepared for the picturesque afternoon wedding in the SF Bay Area. Those involved in the wedding were eager to help the young couple marry and begin their lives together. With my cousin getting married in May, the realization of singledom hit me yet again. Many if not all of the young women in my life who are close relatives, high school and college friends are married, engaged or in long-term relationships. I certainly celebrate those relationships with them, but it is an interesting feeling trying to figure out if I should be happy or sad that I’m still single. Perhaps it is that those around me feel that are pushing for some sort of relationship.

Other events this spring that caused an elongated sigh were that of friends who graduated this month. Hugs and high-fives were handed all around as friends and classmates from the School of Theology and Ministry prepared to move onto the next stage of their lives. It seemed and continues to seem like a non-stop party as people discuss job strategies, travel plans and relive memories over a few beers.

As someone who had a handful of friends in the military who were studying at the Defense Language Institute and the Naval Post Graduate School, it seemed easy to get used to people shuffling in and out of my life every few months. You would start and maintain a relationship in several months or a year and then they would receive orders to move elsewhere. It was sad at first, but then I became used to the rhythm.

Now, it seems like a great upheaval as classmates and friends depart Boston for greener, richer and hopefully more prosperous pastures. Saying goodbye, see you later or as some say, 'Have a nice life,' is always difficult.

But sharing parting words with friends meant that it was the close of my first year. And I finally had time to exhale and celebrate on both coasts.

During my time back in California, I was asked about my first year of grad school. There were ups and downs during the year. And my least favorite part was no doubt the six-hour plane ride back to California. But the experience has been memorable, life-giving and a really great decision. Everything about my decision to enter into graduate studies full-time has exceeded my expectations. I recently told my friend that on a scale of 1 to 10 I'd rank this experience as a 10. And 10 is on the high end of the scale.

Professors challenged my thinking. Friends deepened my spirituality. Relatives continued to support me financially and emotionally. There were so many doors that were opened. It has been a joy-filled time.

Not many decisions in my life rank as a 10, but I'm very proud to say that this one wholeheartedly takes a 10.

Home away from home…

2009-05-12T15:04:00.000-07:00

Pacific Grove – Sitting here parked on my favorite spot overlooking the white caps tumbling into the sand takes all the cares in the world away. It sounds a little ridiculous but it is true. There are so many memories that I have with this patch of dirt adjacent to Asilomar Beach.

There was the day I came down to Monterey for a newspaper job fair about 10 years ago. Then there was the day I drove out here with a soda and a large Hawaiian pizza to celebrate my second month of employment at the Monterey County Herald. And of course there were countless bike rides made past this very spot where the waves hit the rocks. I feel like carving my initials into the fence post but I won’t do that just yet.

The difference with the spot today is that this spot has not changed but I have. And this spot has remained constant in my growth as an adult.

Pacific Grove is a good 80 miles from my real home in the Bay Area, but there are so many spots in Monterey County that I call home. There are nooks all over the county that seem comforting and soothing in times of pain.

Another spot that has a home-like feel is San Carlos Cathedral in Monterey. It was a church where I attended as an adult. And it really was my home base for five years. I received no Sacraments there but I received sacraments. The difference between the ‘S’ and the ‘s’ is that the Sacraments refer to Baptism, First Eucharist and Confirmation. The sacraments refer to the graces that came from everyday life. It was where my faith began to grow as an adult. It is where I found my purpose.

Sitting on the wooden benches several rows from the altar always brings a tear to my eye. There were so many days and nights that I wrestled the decision to remain in journalism or even remain in California. It also became the place where I took on my first paid job in ministry. It became a place that affirmed my gifts as a ministry student.

The Cathedral itself is beautiful today. It was recently closed for more than a year as it was taken apart from the inside and remade with stronger beams to help withstand an earthquake.

In a way, it feels like that for me right now as a student. Life kind of seems on hold as things inside of me are retrofitted, adjusted and rebuilt to withstand the shakiness and instability of life.

The community is the same. And the people are the same. But within the Cathedral there is more light, stronger enforcement and there is a greater sense of pride for those who associate themselves with the building.

Each time I walk through the doors I can exhale, put down my bags and slump into the front pew. I take in the sounds of the docent tours and the shuffle of the footsteps of other visitors. I accept that as the inside of the building has changed but its reason and purpose for existing has not. And then I inhale, wipe a tear away from my cheek and continue to say ‘yes’ to changes in store in my life.

A Scrabble game that changed my life.

2009-04-30T21:54:00.000-07:00

Almost everyday for the past two months I have monitored a sick friend's illness via the Internet.

Sometimes I read the comments on CaringBridge, a site that helps friends and family stay in touch with loved ones, that others have written wishing Tom an easy recovery or offering prayers. Other days I check out a journal that his brother's have been keeping about his health updates.

Tom, 59, was diagnosed with colon cancer in February. However, the reason I choose to write about him is not because he was diagnosed with cancer. It is because he shaped the way I view ministry today. He always took the time to listen to you. Tom was also patient, understanding and someone whose wisdom gently touched you like mist on a gloomy day.

We were not close friends, but we shared a game of Scrabble once that transformed my view of people and shaped my view of ministry. I was getting ready to leave Monterey and he was just moving into town to work in my former parish. We could have been ships passing in the night that August.

The first day I met him was the afternoon of my goodbye party. We exchanged pleasantries, I told him I loved Scrabble and he offered to play sometime.

One night we met up in my favorite coffee shop and we played Scrabble until Plumes was shutting down. It wasn't a high-scoring game or an especially riveting one with multi-syllabic words. While I was chattering away about leaving journalism, California and a guy I had briefly dated. He shared his story of vocation with me. He talked about his struggle with drugs. And his desire to become ordained a priest.

The entire time I'm thinking, "This guy is amazing for being in his late 50s...He still has that drive to serve."

He had already lived a full life, but he wanted so much more. I'm tearing up now as I complete this entry. The world is a better place for all the conversations that Tom had with people whom he knew and loved.

That night he talked about knowing his call and his discernment process. I wanted to know more about his life. I asked him questions like 'If he wanted to give up,' or 'How did he know that life as a Diocesan priest was for him?' Or simply, 'How did he know?'

There were setbacks and struggles for sure. He didn't even take the traditional route of attending seminary full-time since he amassed so much experience and knowledge attending the Franciscan School of Theology in Berkeley and I think attending St. John's in Collegeville, Minn. He had also worked as a social worker for like 20 years.

Tom was ordained a deacon several months ago and was set to be ordained a priest this May. However, his cancer made things a bit complicated. He was diagnosed in late February and things were not looking too good. It was tears all around for a few days.

But he regained a little strength and Bishop Richard Garcia in the Diocese of Monterey decided to ordain, Tom, in the Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula a few weeks back. Tom would get his dream of becoming a priest.

Notes recently posted on CaringBridge indicated things were looking good. Things changed two days ago and news on Wednesday indicated that Tom's time is very short.

It would easy to throw in expletives here and curse everyone and everything. Those words won't help Tom. I'm just trying to stay reflective to say a prayer or two for Tom, his family and my community in Monterey.

I'm certainly saddened by the recent developments in Tom's life. His brothers say he won't make it much longer with problems in his lungs.

During the past two months his site has had 14,000 hits. That is roughly 233 a day.

People say you are remembered not for the way you died, but the way you lived. And guessing from the way Tom's friends and family are logging onto the site, he has lived a life filled with love.

Runners take your marks…

2009-04-20T15:01:00.000-07:00

There was no place I would rather be today than on my front stoop watching thousands of runners thunder down Commonwealth Avenue. It was the 113th Boston Marathon on a cold but energetic day in Boston.

Runners dressed in costumes, Speedos and warm-up pants inundated the city for the world’s oldest marathon.

Friends and fans lined up behind barricades down Commonwealth Avenue shouting their support for people who had just run 22 miles from Hopkington, MA toward the finish line in Copley Square. There were signs and bullhorns. There were thunder stix and boisterous college students lined up to give their support.

Within my apartment I could hear the cheering section outside my front door as runner after runner cruised toward Cleveland Circle and about four more miles until the finish line. Some people were waiting with anticipation to support a friend or co-worker as they rounded the turn. Others just knew to look out for a specific number of a friend of a friend who might be coming past.

One woman was on her one-hour lunch break and she just wanted to stand outside and cheer on runners as they sped by. Some spectators even jumped on the course to help a runner or two who needed emotional support to carry their body another few miles.

The only other marathon I have watched was Big Sur in 2006, but this one had a larger community feeling to it. People were lined up outside their houses along the route of 26.2 miles to cheer on runners.

And in some aspects it was a testament to the human spirit and goodwill that made today so much fun. You cheered for runners who taped their names on their shirt. You high-fived runners who stuck their palm out as they ran by. You received smiles and yells in return.

It was a good day in Boston.

Expectations are meant to be shattered

2009-04-03T20:16:00.000-07:00

Nothing has gone as planned since I've last put my fingers to the keyboard. And it has been freeing and frustrating at the same time.

Two things that took me by surprise were: coffee with a professor and a multimedia journaling session.

In the past few weeks I have made it a point to create real relationships by either inviting people to hang out, chat on the phone or perhaps grab ice cream. There is a real sense of trust building that takes place when you purposely set aside time for someone else. You hold that time sacred. In my mind I'm thinking, "This relationship is not something fleeting."

Earlier this week I had coffee with a professor from the School of Theology and Ministry. I had asked this professor to meet with me a few weeks back because I was really interested in speaking about issues of multicultural communities and ministry in general. The first meeting we planned did not work out. It was a misunderstanding on my part and we had to reschedule.

But the second time was the charm when we met for coffee off campus for about 90 minutes of conversation. He shared his story of discernment, which included the priesthood, his family, his education and of course his culture. I brought a little bit of the same chatting about similar topics. However, I also brought in sports writing and my vocation in journalism. Sports writing is something I rarely speak about because it seems so distant from where I am today. But I'm proud to have spent three years testing out my dreams as a sports writer.

This was probably the first honest conversation I have had with a professor since moving to Boston. And waiting more than a month to talk was more than worth the wait.
I had not planned talking for one hour let alone more than 90 minutes but it was a delightful conversation that was a great tone setter for the remainder of the week.

Another surprise was a multimedia journaling experience. Recently, I have been using Pray-As-You-Go podcasts to quiet my mind and reflect on my life. The podcast, which is run by Jesuits in the United Kingdom, has accompanied me several times this year.

Today, I brought my laptop into my prayer space and tried to reflect on my week before I hit the 'On' button. I went back through relationships, conversations, emotions and struggles. Then, once I had gathered my thoughts I turned on the machine to MS Office to start spouting off thoughts. The journalist in me never stops writing and or typing. After finishing my entry I logged onto Pray-As-You-Go and listened to today's reflection.

It seems odd inviting my laptop that I use for papers, instant messaging and downloading music, into my sacred space that is only reserved for my hardbound journal and colored pencils. But there was something real that happened for me today as my fingers flew across the keyboard and emotions tumbled from my mind. Turning up the volume in the empty chapel today was like a celebration of the week's end as I wanted to shout from the highest point on campus, "Even though the week's events do not sit well with me, I'm accepting every second of the week and owning it as my own."

My signs of spring

2009-03-28T12:50:00.000-07:00

Posting about the change of seasons is inevitable living in the Northeast. I mean, with such significant changes and swings in weather everything seems noticeable, yes?

You post about snow dampening your plans. You post about the first flowers in spring. You post about the beautiful autumnal colors.

My signs of spring are a mix of the following: a 'new' bike, massive incoming student tours on main campus, and runners on Commonwealth Ave.

The new bike is something I found on Craigslist this week. I have been searching for some wheels for about six months. Owning a bike in California was a blessing since it took me almost everywhere I needed to go. And living in Brighton I have missed having two wheels and two hours to explore. The bike is a second hand Nishiki road bike in excellent condition. The guy I bought the bike from is the roommate of a guy on campus who I have worked with in the past. It is really weird how small the world seems sometimes.

Watching the influx of prospective students flood the campus has been another rite of passage at Boston College. There are dozens of tour groups wandering about lower, main and upper campus. Parents clutching information folders and furrowing their brows adds to the excitement.

And what is springtime in Boston without people preparing for the marathon in April? Since the Boston Marathon path winds around school and my house I notice runners up and down the street at all hours of the day. They train in florescent yellow vests. Water bottle belts cling to their waistline. And their sneaker-clad feet are everywhere.

In case you have not noticed my blogs are predominately coming on Saturday or Sunday mornings. It has become a weekend ritual to make breakfast, grab my book bag and head to the library first thing in the morning.

And I have even found my favorite writing space on campus. It is an empty classroom with a window seat and a power supply. Creating traditions and rituals is terrific. It is almost like finding a great bike on CL and celebrating something new.

Stairmaster spirituality

2009-03-21T13:18:00.000-07:00

Never in a million years would I ever think to make the connection between the Stairmaster and my spirituality. But it kinda happened that way when I gave my first homily at the School of Theology and Ministry.

I was asked by the International Student group at the STM to give a homily or reflection at yesterday’s Mass in the small chapel. I was honored and scared at the same time. One of the folks who asked me to preach was my teaching assistant in my Christology class last Fall.

Having never given a homily before I was a little scared to be doing it in front of my classmates who have given dozens or perhaps hundreds of homilies in their lives.

But I figured that it couldn’t hurt to start among my peers and friends in a friendly environment.

After looking into the readings for Fri. March 20 I knew I could make a connection between my life and the readings. The first reading was from Hosea and the Gospel from Mark. The first reading incorporates God’s love and new life. The Gospel talked about the two greatest commandments: love God and love your neighbor.

Luckily, I had just returned from an amazing service immersion experience in Montego Bay, Jamaica. I somehow tied in my experience in Jamaica to what I saw in Friday’s reading. I saw an attention to newness and being drawn into God’s love even further.

I threw the Stairmaster in to show a physical example of what it is like in my life of prayer. When you are on a Stairmaster you have the option of setting the intensity of the workout. And the harder you struggle and persevere the greater your workout is. And you can also never get comfortable on a Stairmaster because the levels always change. It is like that with God. The more you read, absorb and study the deeper your conversation with God becomes.

And the last part was that the new level of spirituality for me was reached when I was in Jamaica. I allowed myself to be accepting of God’s work. I found prayer and spirituality in playing with the children. I found myself praying as we were playing with bubbles and handing out stickers. There was a strong sense of presence.

The homily itself seemed to go by quick. People came up to me afterwards and thanked me for my honesty. They hoped that next time they wrote a homily they could be as honest. And some even supported the idea of women priests and allowing women to preach.

I kind of don’t know what to say. It was such a grace-filled experience. It was also frightening speaking honestly about my faith in front of 50 people. Thankfully many in the crowd were friends who smiled and supported me.

Back in Boston

2009-03-10T20:29:00.000-07:00

I am physically and mentally exhausted but it is a wonderful feeling. The eight days and seven nights I spent in Jamaica were what I had hoped for and then some: amazing.

It is too early to process all that happened at Blessed Assurance. There are the details about the orphanage where my classmates and I spent spring break. There are stories about the workers I encountered down there. There are photos of the children that I can share.

Memories of the week have somehow seeped into every moment of my day. When I awoke early today around 6:15 a.m. my thoughts were on the caregivers. That is about the time they start dressing the children to prepare for morning devotions at 8a.m. During my class this morning I was thinking about a few kids who I met. I did a weather check in the middle of my reflection paper for my class tomorrow.

People at school today had many questions about the trip that I was eager to answer. But there are so many layers that need to be pulled back. Much like Ignatius suggests we revisit events and memories for their depth, I will be doing that with this trip for weeks, months and maybe years to come.

I want to do it again, soon.

Celebrating 30.5 on a plane.

2009-02-26T21:36:00.000-08:00

Having never celebrated by half birthday after the age of 2, I am only bringing attention to the one coming up Saturday because it is coming at a unique time in my life.
I'm turning 30 and a half on Saturday. It sounds odd at first saying that I'm celebrating my half birthday but there is a story behind it. I'm celebrating my half birthday by getting on a plane, flying to Jamaica and working with disabled orphans for a week.

I'm not trying to trivialize the trip nor am I trying to bring attention to my good deed of spending spring break on a service trip. The trip and the day marks a big milestone in my life.

I turned 30 the day I stepped foot onto the STM. I celebrated my birthday during the orientation in August. And now six months later I"m taking a week away from Boston to do service internationally.

Despite the struggles of adjusting to life out here academically and personally, this trip will be amazing no matter what happens.

I have never traveled outside of the country without my family. And I have never gone on a service trip. And now I'm doing both in one shot.

But I'm excited for the possibilities to be challenged spiritually and emotionally.
My expectations are few but I hope to have my eyes opened to the world in the next 48 hours. Maybe that makes my expectations out to be gigantic?

Some of my friends have looked at turning 30 as the start of a downward spiral or perhaps a decline of some sort. But I absolutely love celebrating my 30th year of life full of joy, possibility and life.

If the first six months have been a whirlwind of emotions from happiness, anger, loneliness and joy I wonder what the next six will hold?

Cheers to writing, ministry and discernment

2009-02-23T18:54:00.000-08:00

Last year as I began preparing my grad school applications I tried to connect journalism to ministry like it was a simple math problem of 1 plus 1. I wanted to make sure I stood out among the dozens or hundreds of candidates who were hoping to get accepted into Boston College and Seattle University.

Luckily, both Jesuit universities were gracious in accepting me into their programs.
It was hard to explain to people how journalism and ministry are the same but they are.

You take reporters who talk to people who are in distress, worried or on the verge of something big. You take ministers and pair them up with people who are worried, distressed or on the verge something big. It is simple, really.

Both jobs require the same skill sets: being a good listener, having compassion, being able to care, being able to earn someone’s trust and being an effective communicator.
I was big on integrating both professions into my new life as a ministry student. That spark came last weekend in Western Massachusetts.

I was asked to speak to a dozen or so undergrad students about my career as a writer. It was an overnight retreat geared toward students who had hopes in becoming writers.
I solicited advice on my Facebook profile on what to tell those who wanted to enter the business. I made sure to focus on the struggles and the passion. Another writer emphasized that sometimes the easiest way to become a writer was to find a day job that could give you enough time to write books. He was a college professor and suggested the students do the same.

It seemed much like any talk you would give at Career Day for high school juniors. But this talk was different because I spoke about my discernment process to leave journalism. I talked about the emotional struggles that came with being a crime reporter. I brought God into the conversation.

And when I was asked a question about my faith, I didn’t back down. I didn’t sheepishly look at the floor or change the subject. I answered with the conviction of a Christian. A young woman came up to me and told me her father left his job as an investment banker a year ago to study ministry. Another girl talked about integrating theology and writing. I wanted someone to pinch me.

It was a weird experience being open about my faith, journalism, and ministry. But I did it. And it happened less than six months to the day I started my academic life at BC.

The journalistic talk is something I have given in years past. And the ministry talk is something I gave often to people in my former church. But I have never been so fortunate as to integrate both into one weekend.

It was an affirmation of my skills and life as a journalist. The career as a journalist was integral for my growth as a person and adult. It formed much of my beliefs on humanity and communities.

Even though the age range between myself and the students could have easily been nine or ten years I feel we were speaking the same language of faith, passion and commitment.

One phrase to sum up the weekend – life-giving.

Chicken and rice served with a dose of honesty

2009-02-08T21:17:00.000-08:00

A familial and pastoral reality flashed before my eyes this weekend: parishes gearing up for consolidation or have already closed. The concept of combining understaffed parishes is nothing new.

But the newness for me is the pace and honesty it was discussed over lunch with my relatives and their church group from New Jersey. Abandoning the intricate life of a grad student for several days, I traveled to New Jersey to visit with relatives. And I realized the new reality in which I will face as a minister in the next two years.

Overall, it was a wonderful weekend spent away from books, papers and responsibilities. Being well-cared for in my cousin's home I was treated to various church-related conversations that included Eucharistic Adoration, EWTN and their church being consolidated with others.

Knowing the realities facing Catholics today in regards to a lack of priests, I was intently listening to their Tagalog-only conversation. They talked about which parochial schools would close. They talked about the new name of the three parishes that would combine. They complained about parking and acoustics of the new church.

It felt more mechanical listening to their discussion instead of having one based in community and conversation. They seemed to talk about all the mergers as a mere business transaction instead of something where they invested the last 30 years of their lives.

I wanted to stop them in mid-conversation with my broken Tagalog. But what would I say, 'Lay ministers can do many things these days.' Or perhaps, "What would you like to see change with the new plan?"

Having listened closely to their concerns made me think about how I might answer those questions if I was working in a parish. But given a lack of experience I'm not sure I could steer them in the right direction now.

It gave me a lot to aspire to. Witnessing their concerns first hand was a good reminder of what many churches face today. Their frank conversations were good to take part in as a student who may have to one day help them answer their questions.

Life can be like watching a train wreck

2009-01-29T22:19:00.000-08:00

With homemade rum punch flowing through my system, it feels like it is time to write.

I have been withholding any journalist-related post on this blog in recent months, but I'm ready to burst. I have been watching my friends FB status' change from daily updates about shopping and the weather to word of a work furlough.

My former employer, MediaNews Group, decided recently that its Bay Area papers would be taking a work furlough. Ouch. It'll probably delay layoffs or perhaps prevent them. I'm a little saddened by the news.

There are some days I log onto FB and see normal updates that make me laugh and giggle, but recently it has been sad news about the industry.

I compare my FB stalking to driving past a train wreck. You know its there. There are orange signs flashing of the danger ahead. But you look because you care.

You want to know if the people inside the train or the newsroom will be ok. You want to know if the train or the newspaper will be ok. I want to be able to stop. Unbuckle my seat belt. Step onto the tracks. And extend my hand.

I don't read journalism news much anymore. I had to limit myself to poking around on Romenesko to once a month. I can admit that sometimes I was near tears reading about various struggles and challenges.

A friend from California came into town last week. And over lunch we chatted about all things Obama and journalism. He made some remark about a recent news story about Rezko. According to a quick story from the Chicago Sun Times, Tony Rezko was accused of influence-peddling in the Rod Blagojevich administration.

I hadn't really heard all the details. And I think I wasn't ashamed to admit it either. Being knee-deep in Liberation Theology, Sacraments and developmental issues of teenagers turned my brain into a ministry machine.

Then my friend turns to me and says, "Boy, you really are out of the loop."

I laughed. In some weird way I guess it means I have really moved on. This is the part in any relationship when you realize you aren't longing for a text message, FB post, random phone call or just a casual exchange at Trader Joe's. It is what it is.

Realizing that my days as a hard-nosed, semi-thick skinned, tenacious journalist were behind me, made me think of all the great possibilities that await.

Sometimes it's as easy as building a Taco bar

2009-01-25T07:41:00.000-08:00

It's starting to feel like home in 15-degree weather. Granted that the climate in Boston can't be compared to California, but it is starting to feel more and more like home out here.

The sights and sounds of Brighton are more familiar. The view of the T tracks are an oddly comforting sight. And even the rhythms of living in a house with 11 people are starting to become more routine.

Since returning from my winter break I have been more and more aware of what feels like home to me out here in Boston. The half-mile walk to school is a perfect time to decompress from the sometimes complex studies of Christianity, Spirituality and Scripture. The winter chill is somewhat refreshing. And the sight of Gasson never seems to get old.

In other words, the community in which I live and breathe is starting to feel cozy.

During my first few months in Boston I realized how hard it was to find my bearings and my community. It was a mishmash of directions that I propelled myself. First to a local young adult group. Then within the Filipino community. Then in the direction of my housemates and schoolmates.

Folks around me sometimes grumbled about their displeasure about all things scholastic and academic about their time within the school. While others complained that despite their best efforts to settle in and make friends it was hard to find that community that we longed to find.

Being a person who listens and acts, I began to probe deeper into what my classmates wanted. It was finding words such friendship, socializing and hanging out that bubbled to the surface. Sometimes it would involve alcohol and sometimes it wouldn't. Sometimes I'm thankful that my journalistic skills can be put to good use.

Inevitably, people seemed to say that wanted to spend more time together outside of the classrooms, library and walks to class.

With the excitement of a kindergartner on the first day of class, I spoke with my across-the-street neighbor who suggested that in his last semester he wanted to build a community that would hopefully sustain itself through the transitions between Weston Jesuit and the Institute of Religious Education and Pastoral Ministry.

It was something that as a an alumnus of the school, he could look back on the community with pride. I think we all agree that we want that same thing.

Our immediate solution was to be more intentional about creating community. It would be centered around food. It would involve pulling people in from different degree programs, stages in life and interests. And it would be fun.

A handful of us decided we would host a community dinner where everyone brought something to contribute to the taco dinner: beans, rice, soda, Puppy Chow, salad and lettuce. We decided against alcohol that night. And we had a handful of group games we wanted to try out.

Folks left with smiles and hugs. People are eager to do it again. I am eager to do it again.

The game that coulda been

2009-01-15T09:37:00.001-08:00

I’m embarrassed to admit that the first time I had heard of Boston College was when I filled out my NCAA bracket for the office pool. I was working in the sports department of the San Jose Mercury News when I learned there was a Jesuit University in Boston.

It sounds odd for a budding theologian to admit that my first introduction to BC was through sports. I certainly wasn’t thinking about theology and ministry in 2001. My head was deep into sports scores and statistics. That year Duke defeated Arizona for the title and BC lost to USC in the second round.

Studying theology and ministry were the main reasons I decided to attend BC. But I would be lying if I said that attending a school in the Atlantic Coast Conference meant nothing to me. Sports are integral to my life.

My absolute favorite writers are sports writers. Or they are writers who started in the world of sports. There is much to be said about professional teams that often link people worldwide. There is great interest in the local high school football team that makes it to the state championships. Those are threads of life that neighbors, friends and co-workers can pull together to weave into their community.

Last night as I sat in section XX of Conte Forum I wanted to be in awe of the screaming fans, jumping Eagle and blaring brass section of the student band. No. 2 ranked Wake Forest defeated Boston College 83-63. It was the Eagles third straight loss at home. There was a little hype going into the game as both the Demon Deacons and Eagles beat the University of North Carolina. The Tarheels were ranked No. 1 and undefeated before BC beat them in Chapel Hill.

This is one of those times where I could be cliché and say, “On paper you’d think it would be a great match up.” In reality it was a debacle as the Eagles’ turnovers pushed them deeper into the hole against Wake Forest. The Eagles’ offense couldn’t seem to find the nets. And their defense was lackluster as players didn’t scramble for the rebound.

Once I looked past the basketball and into the stands it made me giggle. There were students flailing arms and hands plastered on the big screen. The band played Coldplay’s ‘Viva la Vida’ during time outs. Teams warmed up to Kanye Wests’s ‘Stronger.’

It was college basketball as I had pictured it. I wasn’t sitting behind a computer screen stealing glances from a newsroom television. Nor was I seated in front of a television with beer and pizza in hand.

I was front and center wearing a borrowed Super Fan shirt from my housemate who had warned me that it had arm pit stains from many afternoon football games.

Beyond the lackluster Eagles and disappointing loss it was memorable. Even down to the borrowed pit-stained shirt. And as Dick Vitale would say, "It's Awesome, baby."

Omelets, bacon and catch up

2008-12-27T01:33:00.000-08:00

There is always something to be said about the comforts of home: familiar faces, same old sights and lots of loved ones. It's been a crazy week being back on the West Coast. Although the scenery is much different the winter temperatures feel the same at times.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day seem like a blur. There was an adrenaline rush of last minute shopping, cooking and gift wrapping then it died down to a lull. Being back in California for almost a week I have tried to spend time with loved ones. It has been a challenge finding enough time to spend with everyone who has influenced me in years past.

One great tradition in my life that I continue to look forward to is the annual Christmas gathering of my high school friends and their significant others. This year was the first I can recall that it was just the ol' gang. There are anywhere from five to eight of us that keep in contact via e-mail or Facebook. Each year since we graduated in 1996 we try to gather for our annual brunch.

We're all the same age but we're at different stages in life. One of the women has been married for several years. Another woman has two children. A few of the folks are in long-term relationships. I'm the only one of the bunch who has yet to settle down.

We catch up over omelets and bacon. Our tales include breakups, engagements, children, careers and grad school. Knowing each other for the better part of 15 years we focus on details such as - "How did your fiance propose to you?" Or "Living in Amsterdam what can you tell us about the the Red Light District?" or "Did so and so get married?"

As our three hours unfolds we take turns talking about where we are in life physically, emotionally or mentally. We ask ourselves and each other, "Are we ready for marriage?" or "How can we be better communicators and listeners?"

One of my friends joked in some ways today's brunch was like the television show, 'The View,' where women sit around and talk about an issue or problem.

I often forget that my high school friends make a great resource and sounding board. There is no hiding or skimping when it comes to talking to friends you've known for years. Perhaps it is that raw honesty that keeps us together. It is the combination of common rhythms, shared pasts and memories that propel our friendships to new levels.

"Leaving on a jet plane"

2008-12-16T21:03:00.000-08:00

The old John Denver tune, “Leaving on a Jet Plane” couldn’t hold more truth for me right now. It has been a short well-timed journey through the first semester of graduate school. My days have been filled with paper writing, reading and working on computers. My nights are filled with writing, reading and playing on Facebook.

Writing my final Boston 2008 blog entry, I am giddy at the thought of visiting family in California. I couldn’t be more ready to see family and friends than I am right now. The first few months here in the Northeast have been fun yet tiring. Exciting yet draining. Challenging but fulfilling.

The biggest adjustment for entering graduate school is the mind set from a daily journalist to a ‘budding theologian’ as my professor likes to call her students. The first time I heard that phrase I wanted to run from school. Coming to Boston College I’d never considered myself a ‘budding theologian’ of any sort.

But here I sit four months after my ‘theologian roots’ were first watered. Like any good plant that needed tending too the key for a successful first semester was a good balance of water, sunlight and soil. The soil was my family and friends who grounded me and constantly reassured me that this journey of theology and ministry was one that had been a long time coming. The sunlight was the playtime spent in the area exploring, taking in theater, sitting at Peet’s Coffee, or whatever little escape I could conjure up. The water was everything I was studying – Liberation Theology, the Trinity, the Sacrament of healing, and sexuality. The water not only quenched my desire for knowledge but it sustained me.

My peers and professors warned me that the first semester would be a steep learning curve. And if I could have judged the curve right I would guess mine was like a 80- degree angle. Provided I pass all my classes I guess this first semester was a success.

Wishing, waiting, snowing and Advent

2008-12-07T20:42:00.000-08:00

As I sit here readying for my finals week, I'm trying to keep my entry short. And the only thing I can think of this week is to try and tie Advent into the first snow of the season.
I'm making this short and saying that Advent is about being ready and preparing the way for Christ. With this being the second week of Advent it's been great to settle into a rhythm of prayer and intentionality.
But one thing I realized this morning as I awoke at 5:30 a.m. in anticipation of my first snow flurries was that waiting for the first snow is like waiting for Advent.

First, it gets real cold for a few weeks. It's like the weather is teasing you with the temperatures that dip to like 19 or something. Then if you're like a first-time winter person such as myself you think about what you need to survive your first winter: hat, boots, jacket and gloves. Then you go about preparing yourself and perhaps reminding others around you.

I thought of that this morning as I dressed for morning Mass. I awoke super early to see the pretty flurries in the sky. Then as I layered up with my jacket, gloves, scarf and hat I thought that this is the way I should prepare for Advent. My friends told me of their 'first snow' experiences. They were filled with joy and community. I wanted that also for my first 'New England snow.'

When I stepped foot outside on the way to Mass I smiled at the white flurries that danced around me. It was like I was in the middle of the world's biggest snow globe.

Throughout the day I smiled as I stepped gingerly on the snowy sidewalks, pathways and roadways. The best part of my day was when a fellow classmate told me that it was necessary to make a wish for your first snow. I'm going to wish for something as I get ready to retire for the evening. And if it comes true I'll let you know.

Giving thanks for friends and parquet flooring.

2008-11-26T22:43:00.000-08:00

I'm celebrating three months to the day I left California. It sounds odd to celebrate three months anywhere. But if presidents can mark their first 100 days in office then I can mark my first 90 days in Boston.

I marked the event watching a Celtics game with friends. The Celts defeated the Warriors 119-111 tonight. The fascination for me wasn't the game or the crowd.
I spent the better part of two hours staring at the pieces of parquet flooring at the bottom of TD Banknorth Garden. I'd seen that flooring or similar pieces on television or in magazines. But here I was at the highest part of the arena staring down at wooden pieces affixed to one another like it was a gigantic jigsaw puzzle.

I remember being in elementary school and watching the Celtics clinch title after title behind their main man, Larry Bird. Those were the days I sat on the living room floor in front of the television. I was amazed at Bird's prowess and ball control.

Being at TD Banknorth Garden brought me back to childhood. And as I sat there in amazement at the arena, the crowd and the floor I smiled. The Warriors were losing but I was still smiling.

As the game progressed and the teams ran up and down the court I could only think about being present and thankful in that moment with my good friend, Ken, who I've known since third grade. We were sitting side-by-side trying to cheer the Warriors on from our upper deck seats. Another friend, Melissa, was also at the game but she and Trip were cheering for Boston.

Those moments of joy with friends bring the widest smiles to your face. And you forget about the massive papers due in two weeks. You forget about being 3,000 miles away from family. You forget about homework.

This isn't about sports taking away misery or being transported to another realm for the better part of three hours. I guess it's about being grateful for moments of joy intertwined between crazy amounts of school work. And it's those memories and images of parquet that will stick with me forever.

Wha? Me? Spiritually lazy?

2008-11-13T11:44:00.000-08:00

To borrow a phrase from a friend of mine during the past few months in Boston I've been spiritually lazy. There's been too much routine. Too much talking and not enough listening. Too much me and not enough God.

A week ago I was involved in a research group where my classmates, who are also soon-to-be pastoral ministers and theologians, talked about our expectations of Boston College.

Some of us were happy with our spiritual lives. Some of us weren't seeking anything more. Some of us felt a lack of community and conversation around our faith.

Now, that I'm pretty established in routine and have grounded myself in school, work and community it's time to rediscover the faith life that led me to shed many of my material possessions in favor of a simpler life in Boston.

In some of my classes we've talked about spiritual practices and prayer. And often times during discussion I'll recall my spiritual practices in California that included cycling, rosary, Taize and scripture sharing. None of that happens in Brighton.

Surprisingly, my thoughts of ministry were that I'd become super-charged with my faith by coming here. Instead I've found it to be an occasional struggle and more academic. But I've begun to re-establish those ties to my faith life.

I'm trying to be more intentional about prayer. There are plenty of opportunities to hear about faith but sometimes there aren't enough created opportunities to live it out. Finding opportunities such as Daily Mass or Taize have once again become important to me.

Now, with the end of the semester looming and papers taking up every waking second of my day I'm making a commitment to be more studious and prayerful.

It's like taking that walk up the mountain to retreat from the chaos of below. Walk the talk. Be more intentional. Take a second to breathe. Find that silence.

Emotional speed bumps

2008-10-26T23:06:00.000-07:00

Living some 3,000 miles away from California I knew it'd be difficult at times to be away from my family and friends. Being a journalist I consider myself to be a semi-decent communicator who frequently uses multimedia to keep up with the news back home.

But calls home every few days aren't the same as the interaction of family parties and gatherings with friends. Being on the receiving end of the calls is like being at the bottom of a filter. Information gets truncated to emphasize a point or two. Experiences are shortened into one sentence answers. Details are inadvertently left out.

Coming into this week I knew would be an emotional roller coaster for me. Classes have being going well and school is great. On the other hand my youngest goddaughter celebrated her first birthday with a huge celebration this week. This is the first time in six years I've missed a monumental event in the lives of one of my four god children. I've been able to mark each Baptism, First Communion and birthday thus far. But this year it'll be different. And it'll probably be this way for awhile.

Luckily, one of my classes Monday had an activity based on prayer and journey. We met at the Labyrinth to pray for about 45 minutes. The Labyrinth is an exercise that helps you to focus on an image, thought or person during your prayer time. The repetitive action of placing one foot after another as you wind around the circle is peaceful. Long-term thoughts and anxieties were washed away with the slow shuffle of my feet rubbing against the concrete.

Starting the exercise with an image of my family in my head, I began to feel sad and alone. But as I journeyed toward the center I began to see the Seal of Boston College in the middle. A person walking the Labyrinth may pause during the walk or perhaps stop in the center for a short while. The journey in can be as important as the journey out. Each step I took brought me closer to my goal. Soon I was in the middle staring down at the Seal inscribed with the year of the school. Immediately I remembered why I moved to Boston.

The seal reminded me of why I came this far. Sometimes one's struggles and emotions are meant to be shared with multitudes. Other times it's just you and God.

Kennedy connection

2008-10-17T21:55:00.000-07:00

Living in New England I wondered how and where my first connection to The Kennedy Family would happen. Only knowing about the family’s history through history books and news reports I thought my first Kennedy-esque encounter would happen somewhere in Cape Cod during the summer.

The last place I expected to find my connection was at a BC Men’s hockey game on a Friday night.

My friend had two tickets to the alumni box during the Eagles game vs. Bowling Green. She had the connections and hockey knowledge. I’m not sure what I contributed tonight.

Hustling over to Conte Forum from our house she warned me of her hockey knowledge.
We wound through the building and found our way into our posh booth, which was full of chips, popcorn, beer and soda. Being the first ones in the room I thought we’d have the entire box to ourselves and I didn’t want to be the annoying friend who pestered her with every mundane question about BC Hockey.

Minutes after we were seated a white middle-aged man, William Noonan, came bursting into the box with his pre-teen children. They introduced themselves and we gave brief introductions.
Seeing that we were poor graduate students he asked if we wanted beer to wash down our salty snacks. He also purchased our hot dogs. His children were enthusiastic hockey fans making comments about the game and the players’ skill.

Noonan initially mentioned that he would be speaking to the alumni association during November and that he had written a book about politics in Boston. I thought he was a well-to-do Bostonite who was asked to come back to BC and make some reflections. Little did I know I was sharing a box with a best selling author.

Sometime around the second period after we drank our first can of Bud Light he mentioned he had written a book that landed on the New York Times bestseller list.

My ears perked up as he casually mentioned his book, ‘Forever Young: My friendship with John F. Kennedy Jr.’ I thought, what did he just say? Did I hear him say he knew the JFK Jr.?

Noonan grew up knowing family members from the Kennedy and Shriver families. His family has deep ties and roots to the area. The first line of his book is, “John Kennedy was meant to meet me for dinner the night he died.”

Realizing that I didn’t want to be too ‘reporter-like’ during the evening I didn’t pry or ask much about Kennedy stories. He was very coy with his book and relationship with the Kennedy’s. Noonan mentioned that he started the book on January 2, 2002 and finished on Valentines Day. He said he wrote about 100,000 words during those weeks after he sequestered himself away in his home on Cape Cod.

As the game ended I was torn between asking more questions and trying to be normal. And normal doesn’t sit too well. After the 5-3 BC victory my friend and I gathered our belongings and said bye to our ‘box mates.’

I asked for Noonan’s business card because 1) he is an alumni at BC and 2) I may try and pickup his book for kicks.

Never in a million years would I have thought my first connection to the Kennedy family would come from BC hockey.

Fond relationship, special memories

2008-10-03T23:26:00.000-07:00

Oftentimes I rise from my creaky twin bed and wonder if you'll be greeting me downstairs with great news. Will you let me unfold you into my lap? Is this a one or two cup morning?
Those are the thoughts I often had as I jumped out of bed most mornings to grab my newspaper. It wasn't the newspaper so much as it was the relationship I'd forged with daily journalism and its daily product: newspapers.
I'd had pride in my stories and my colleagues stories as we busted down doors of secrecy and explained something spectacular in 30 inches or less. Those stories were crafted under deadline pressures, squawking police boxes, incessant phone calls and editor demands.

Before I left the business in a drawn-out goodbye I swore I'd miss it. I'd miss the panicked night sweats wondering if I'd written down the right quote. Or I thought I'd miss the random 8a.m. calls from my editor asking that I start early. Every once in awhile I received a Saturday night call around 9p.m. with breaking news of some sort that needed to be hunted down. Or I thought I'd miss being able to swing by the press to see it unroll miles of newsprint to be packaged, rolled and stuffed into trucks to make it to your front door.

But after walking away from the relationship about seven weeks ago I can't say I miss it. A former colleague of mine asked me during the VP debates if I missed it. And I don't. I thought I'd feel empty inside without a byline attached or a tagline hanging beneath my prose.

My many fond memories of journalism over the past 10 years are much like thoughts I'd associate with an ex-boyfriend. There were moments of laughter, tears and growth. We traveled the country meeting new people and discovering new places. We took many detours and expressways. We managed to learn from each other.

I came to the relationship 10 years ago with much hope and passion in my blood for journalism and life. I was ready. I mean, we were ready to take the world by storm.

But after a 10-year ride that included Nascar, the NFL, MLB, X Games, police chases, over-the-cliff rescues, late night debauchery, school board meetings, fires and wide-eyed 9-year-olds the love was over.It wasn't the same relationship when I began at 20-years-old. We both changed maybe for the better.

One morning I awoke and I realized we would be no more. I could no longer rise to the smell of newsprint and inky fingers. It was time to move on to Phase II of my life.

I packed my bag. Saying goodbye to my favorite police chief, cafe-dwelling chess player, barista, and friends I heaved a heavy sigh of reluctance.

As I slowly slouched away from my former life, I wanted to interlock our fingers one more time. We really could have been.

But we weren't. And now, it all seems but a faint memory that I think of fondly. I smile and chuckle to myself thinking, 'We gave it the best shot.'

A little bit of Filipino culture, food and laughs

2008-09-14T19:13:00.000-07:00

My friends often comment on the hospitality of Filipinos and their amazing devotion to Christ. Both were things I took for granted living in California for most of my life. I was surrounded by Filipinos in the Bay Area as child but not so much in Monterey.

As an adult I've tried to learn more about my faith through culture. In my last months in Monterey I wanted to explore what Catholicism meant to Filipinos and how they remain such devoted Catholics.

I guess that was partially evident today in the bi-cultural Mass I attended on campus. It was part of a bi-monthly gathering of students and young professionals from the surrounding areas who gather for fellowship and food.

We sang songs in Tagalog and prayed in English. Although I only understood parts of the songs we sang, it felt like home. I heard the language of my parents being whispered around me and then sung out loud. We sang the 'Our Father' in Tagalog which is something I hope to commit to memory in coming months.

As a recent resident of Monterey, I tried to find the Filipino community out there and connect, but it never happened. I felt more awkward than anything else because I wasn't a native of the area and my folks had no connections down there.

But here in Boston I felt like I connected instantly because there are few people actually from here. Many whom I met were students studying subjects such as globalization, theology and management. It is a transient bunch which I can relate to.

I mixed and mingled with the crowd of folks who were eager to meet me and feed me pancit and chicken. I learned they often gathered for birthdays, football games and parties. It sounded like my family back home.

A day of firsts...

2008-08-29T05:48:00.000-07:00

Wanting to spend every evening commute hour in a downtown 'T' stop is how I want to be introduced to Boston.
First there were the business men in khakis and wrinkle-free collared shirts. Then there were teenagers dressed in low-slung blue jeans plugged into iPods. And of course there were women paired up clutching purses tightly to their chest discussing their last date.

I'd like to be able to re-visit the Park St. station from time-to-time just to witness that over and over. Culture, life and money all intersect on those downtown platforms zipping out to the suburbs throughout Boston.

Of course people-watching on the 'T' wasn't all of my day. There was orientation and meeting new folks.

My purpose of leaving the West Coast was to come and study Theology and Ministry. And a first step in that direction was taken Thursday during student orientation.

Walking into the auditorium to meet my fellow ministry classmates caused a little angst in my life. Would they be welcoming? Would they be cool? Would I fit in on the East Coast?

The answer so far to those questions is 'yes.'

As I walked in and started to introduce myself around the room I heard similar stories of how we came to sit in Room 24. They talked about a calling and a desire to serve. And it didn't feel so weird having my own story that sounded very similar to theirs.

There was an accountant who made his decision in 10 days after a history of doing church work with his wife. There was a woman who'd studied ministry in St. Louis who eventually moved to Boston and then wanted to further her studies. There was a Jesuit from Uganda who'd never been to the US and was studying at BC.

Some of the discussions were like that one scene in The Wire's Season 5. During the second episode editor Gus Haynes and reporter Roger Twigg were talking about why they got into journalism. Haynes talks about his father's habit of reading the newspaper for 15 minutes before work every morning. And Haynes wanted to know what was so important that his father couldn't be bothered for those precious minutes. So, Haynes became a newspaper man and found out.
People get those feelings, intuitions and emotions and decided to follow their gut.

I'm also posting an item about the religion beat being eliminated at daily newspapers...

As far as I know, veteran Godbeat and popular culture scribe Mark Pinsky isn’t dead (although I haven’t heard from him in a week or two, so I will check). His website is nice and up-to-date looking.

Still, it is clear shock waves from the news that Pinsky was part of newsroom cutbacks at the Orlando Sentinel continue to affect the mood of many people who care about religion-news coverage in the mainstream press.

http://www.getreligion.org/?p=3837

Changing gears, coasts

2008-08-24T14:28:00.000-07:00

“There are no coincidences with God.”
That theme has run through my head for the past few weeks as I’ve contemplated my new life in Boston and my old life as a newspaper reporter.
After about 10 years of working or interning as a journalist I’d decided that the calling of ministry was too strong. In early August I said goodbye to colleagues whom inspired me and deadlines that turned some black hair white.

Many who’ve known me for years are familiar with the path I tried to take into ministry as a 15-year-old then again as a freshman in college. It never worked out. I wasn’t ready.

My recent decision to pursue ministry seemed haphazard to some and ‘coming out of left field’ for others. That desire never left. Opportunities arose during my five years in Monterey to volunteer and then work for the church. I grasped at them as if I’d wandered the desert looking for anything thirst quenching.

And sometime in the past year doors opened and I walked through them. First into a new found appreciation for Christ. Then into a new calling. Now, I’m stepping forward into a new adventure.

Being a writer I wanted to share my experiences with friends, neighbors, relatives and the world. That’s how I came to start this blog. The journalist in me is curious and ready to ‘explain it all.’

In about three days I’ll be wandering Logan International Airport pinching myself and skipping toward the Baggage Claim. Then comes settling in and starting my program in pastoral ministry.
I hope to find interesting people and topics in the Northeast to share with readers. I want to taste the chowder and take in the BoSox. I want to kick up autumn leaves and lolly gag through Boston Common. And I want to share it all with you!

P.S. I recently submitted something to Columbia Journalism Review about my decision to leave journalism - http://www.cjr.org/parting_thoughts/parting_thoughts_clarissa_alje.php

New town means new possibilities, right?

2008-08-01T13:45:00.000-07:00

http://money.cnn.com/galleries/2008/moneymag/0807/gallery.bplive_mostsingles.moneymag/5.html
Money came out with their list of top single cities across the USA. It turns out that three of the top 10 are in Massachusetts and No. 5 is Boston.

That kinda beats Monterey with its population hovering around 32,000 and the median age hovering around 37 according to Census data from 2000.

The No. 1 city for singles is Hoboken, N.J. and No. 25 on the list is Madison, W.I.
Two California cities - San Francisco and Santa Cruz also made the list.