Letter to My Younger Self

15 year old bright-eyed girl, with the loud laugh. Don’t be defined by your grades or your jersey number. You’re too good for that, even though right now you probably think that is all there is in life. Don’t let yourself be fooled. Your heart is gold. And the hurt that comes from the roots you’re planting your identity in right now are hard to heal. They’re deep. So be you—just Hannah. She’s enough. Teach yourself that now. Be grateful for the beginning that you are experiencing, the rock that is Pius. Thank the teachers around you who will be so much more to you than the name on your report card. Let them in. 

p.s. Charf gives you your first B and down the road, Lauren is your saving grace. 

18-year old beauty, gosh I wish I could hug you right now. It seems like it’s never going to go away. That hole. Let me reiterate what everyone is telling you, one day you will wake up and it will be okay. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not the next day. But give it time. Just let it hurt, really, seriously, just sit there and let yourself feel it all. Right now you probably regret not going away for fashion school. Don’t. You have so much ahead of you even though you think this is an end, it’s actually a beautiful new beginning. Don’t put a timeline on your healing. It’s okay that your heart is fragile, looking back that’s my favorite part about you. You love hard and you hurt deep. Just let mom hold you and share her stories with you. Ask dad for a hug. Sis knows a thing or two about this too. Let them in. 

p.s. This isn’t the end of the story. 

21-year old crazy girl, I’m just laughing thinking about you right now. The memories are fun, the friends are even more fun. Fr. Holdren has good advice though, I want you to listen to him. Find the role this liquid comfort has in your life early. It does more harm than good unless you learn early. Just get it in your head now that they won’t like you less without it, they’ll respect you more. And soon you’ll come to respect yourself more too. Mistakes are fine, making the same one twice isn’t. It’s okay to be scared of the call—just don’t run into the arms of someone who doesn’t care. Run into His arms, He wants you more than you know. Let Him in. 

p.s. Don’t give Bri your ID on NYE…. 

To my present day, not yet what I want to be but that’s okay, self. It’s okay that you aren’t where she wanted you to be by now. It’s okay that you’re not a married mom of two, living in Lincoln with stability and roots. It’s okay that you don’t have it figured out yet and it’s okay that the longing seems to take over when you least expect it. It’s okay to not feel okay all the time. But just know that those times you’ve felt heaven on earth, those are real. That is what joy feels like—true, abundant, full, lasting joy. And you have many of those moments up ahead. You will be okay. I promise. 

p.s. This isn’t the end of the story. 

Hello Captain, my old friend.

There I was. In that all-too-familiar, dark corner confessional waiting for the priest to start with the Sign of the Cross. My heart was racing just thinking about the words I was about to say. Admitting to the sins I promised myself I wasn't going to let happen again. He opened the window and began, "In the name of the Father..."

The rest was a blur. After almost two years of being a missionary, I thought I would've had it figured out by now. But I ended up back in the spot I've always felt His Mercy, this confessional. The chatter inside my mind was stopped by the words of the priest, "This isn't you. You don't need to be carrying this."

This isn't you. 

---

In high school, I was determined not to drink until college. Only the "party crowd" had alcohol at their parties and I had too much to lose: a 4.0 GPA, my reputation as the good girl, a spot on varsity volleyball. But for some reason in my mind, when college hit it was okay to drink. Obviously being in a sorority, I was quickly introduced to the party scene and had ample opportunities to try my way in this new world. All of the mistakes weren't mistakes, they were memories, and I was in college so this is just what you do. Right?

After being in my chapter for a couple of months, I got involved in our house's bible study. My heart felt like it belonged there and I had so many women who I could look up to in the faith. I remember distinctly when my big (our bible study leader) came out to a party one Friday night and the whole house rejoiced because she never went out. I found something odd yet intriguing about that. Yet, it seemed like every weekend I kept finding myself at parties, drinking jungle juice and not thinking anything of it.

During sophomore year, I wrestled with underage drinking and asked Fr. Holdren every question under the sun. It always came back to the role alcohol has in our lives. He said something that I will never forget, "It's like a horse and a jockey. We are the jockey and our emotions and passions are the horse. But when we let our passions become the jockey and take control, our lives are misaligned."

I heard what he said, but didn't really listen. A couple of months later, I turned 21 and didn't skip a beat. I was "of age" right? I could do whatever I wanted to now. The bars became a commonplace, stumbling home drunk was happening 3-4 times a week and Husker football game days were a marathon that started at 8 am.

Alcohol was slowly starting to creep into the driver's seat without me ever really knowing it. Senior year rolled around, I applied to be a FOCUS missionary and got the job the first week of December. Looking back on it now, I was so incredibly scared of what this meant for me. I felt unworthy and yet I knew I was called. And so, in my mind, I needed to get out all of my bad habits before I left for training in June. Unfortunately, that's not really how it works.

What followed was a long treacherous couple of months of me making some horrible mistakes and yet somehow always knowing this was never really who I was. At the end of May, I packed up my bags and started the most incredible adventure of my life--one full of healing and growth and confronting this old foe who always seemed to make a stark appearance.

---

I don't think I would've been able to really open my eyes to this distorted relationship with alcohol if it wasn't for a conversation I had with another missionary on the plane home from Mexico City after a mission trip. I knew she was familiar with this and had celebrated being 4 years sober just recently so my heart was drawn into conversation with her. I spilled everything and really got to talk through it all with her. She just casually said, "Well you should just give it up for a semester and see what happens."

My heart dropped. 

Quickly, I replied saying, "I don't think it's really that bad. I mean I don't need to give it up completely......" and in my mind, I knew. She simply replied, "You should ask Jesus what He thinks." About three weeks later, in prayer, I reluctantly brought it to the forefront. I said, "Jesus, you know I'm not an alcoholic. Do I really need to give it up for that long? I have a bachelorette party though! I just need to cut back and make sure I only have 2 drinks at a time." And to this day I can hear His reply so loud in my heart.


"Hannah, do you love Me more than this?"


The only way I can describe the next four months was with one word: freedom. I finally felt like I was the one in control and that alcohol no longer had it's grip on me. I didn't have to get a drink at the bar, even though I really wanted one (or three). I had the opportunity to take a huge step back and really think about why it is that I drink, why do I feel like I have to have a Captain and Coke in my hand to make me feel more comfortable?

After so many years, I understood what Fr. Holdren was saying--alcohol became the jockey without me really noticing. Once I took back the reigns, I realized how much of my life had revolved around it and how instinctively I just drank without understanding why. It took me a swift slap in the face to realize what had been going on all along.


--


I walked out of the confessional and looked at Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. You're right, this isn't me. I stopped and looked at His radiance, His glory, His humility; all exposed for me. I knelt down in front of Him and for what felt like the first time in my life I uttered those words:

Today, I choose You. 

Indeed, man wishes to be happy even when he so lives as to make happiness impossible. 

Saint Augustine

The Beauty of Loneliness

We were all sitting around the table, popcorn half eaten, wine bottle almost empty, finishing up our first summer bible study when I said those fateful words no one ever wants to hear-- let alone speak out loud... "Guys, I'm just lonely." 

My beautiful best friends were sitting around me, one about to have her first baby, the other freshly married and one preparing to get married in a couple of weeks. I just sat there and came to terms with this fact I've been running from for a while. 

I feel lonely. 

We were praying with the Gospel for that day; Jesus walking through the crowd of people following the official whose daughter had just died. When all of the sudden a suffering women of twelve years reaches out as He passes to catch a glimpse of His healing power. But the part that struck me wasn't the fact that He just healed a woman through a tassel on His clothing. Or the mere fact that a Roman official was humbling himself enough to ask Jesus for help. What struck me was that all He did to raise the girl from the dead was take her hand. Did you hear that? This little girl was dead. The crowds were already walking away, singing songs of sorrow, they had given up. Then Jesus walks in and simply took her hand. Nothing earth shattering. Nothing mind blowing. Just a simple touch. 

On the way home, I was driving silently in my car and realized the sting of what I have been feeling. Every woman has this deep soul desire to be pursued, desired by another, wanted, etc., and the list goes on and on and on. I've realized that no one really wants to admit to anyone that they are lonely because that would conjure up sympathetic sighs and awkward encouragements of "you're such a catch though" and "you'll eventually find someone perfect for you." So instead of acknowledging it, we get on Tinder or Bumble and swipe away that dirty "L word". 

That's the reason we're all social media obsessed, right? I cannot even begin to explain the number of times I've found myself deep into wedding or engagement pictures on Instagram for hours trying to avoid the fact that I'm not there yet. I scroll and scroll and then turn off my phone to the stark reality of my singleness. 

We don't allow ourselves to experience reality. 

Why would we? The world around us gives us ample opportunities and even encourages us to get out there and numb yourself. Go to the bar, have a mediocre/drunken conversation, go home with someone, and avoid being lonely for one more night. Tomorrow you can deal with it. 

But in that moment, sitting in the sting of loneliness, I felt Jesus reaching out His hand to me. He wanted me to be like that little girl in the Gospel, to allow Him to wake me up from the dead and walk with Him through this stage of my life. It wasn't that He was taking the pain or sting away, but that He was actually calling me into something deeper. He was transforming this pain and longing into something beautiful and He was asking me to open my eyes to it. To not only accept this loneliness that I am experiencing, but to embrace it--with Him, hand in Hand. He wanted me know that although I may feel lonely, that doesn't mean that I am alone. That the God Who created the Universe wants me to know that He understands what loneliness feels like; four nails on a cross. 

Brothers and sisters, the world is telling you to let go. It is telling you to do whatever you can to make it go away because the world doesn't want you to see the beauty in the hurt. It wants you to avoid suffering at all cost, but let me ask you this...Where would we be if Jesus did that? 

Tonight, I pray for all of you who are reading this and feeling that sting. I pray that you find the purpose in it and know that He is right there with you in all of it, even when it doesn't feel like it. 

Look at the cross. He's been waiting for you there.

To my brother

I want you to know one thing. No matter what anyone says, no matter how much the media tells you lies about yourself, know this--

you are powerful. 

You are so powerful and you don't even know it.

I'm sorry that the world we are living in has made you out to be an uncontrollable sexual beast who can't restrain himself.

I'm sorry that the feminist movement has erased you and your voice from the conversation to make us feel more powerful and heard.

I'm sorry that there are some men out there who take and use and dilapidate the truth of masculinity leaving you to be put into a stereotypical box of "animal".


But you have a choice.



You have the power to break hearts without knowing whose hearts you've broken.

However, you also have a beautifully gentle power. You are capable of healing hearts by your protection, by your true masculinity, by your strength and by your love.


You have the power to break families apart by leaving to "find yourself".

However, your presence has the power of making us feel safe in a world that tells us to stand up for ourselves and be independent of anyone and anything.


You have the power to make a woman feel like an object of lust and use her until you have no more use for her.

However, you also have compassionate power to reveal our own femininity back to us when the world has drown it out. When other men have powerfully taken it away from us.


You have the power to shatter us into a thousand irredeemable pieces and never even know it.

However, you have this indomitable power and strength to quietly and subtly protect us from ourselves and from the Father of Lies who so often gets inside our minds by the touch of your hand.


You have this power because the God of the Universe came down in the form of a man. Taking on our flesh to model for us how to protect, heal, love and remind us of our genuine identity.

He came into a broken world and healed it by stretching out His arms and showing us what love looks like.

I don't think you are told this enough, so as your sister I want to remind you:

You have the magnificent, breathtaking and awe-inspiring power to change the world...

because it has changed mine. 

Attainable Sanctity

Happy feast of All Saints day! I don't know why but today's feast seems more significant to me now than it ever has before. Growing up, All Saints day was three things:
     1) The day after Halloween where you eat as much candy as your mom lets you
     2) The day everyone at school dresses up as a Saint and you have a lame parade
     3) The beginning of the countdown to Thanksgiving.
And even though these are all good things, this year something is different. Oddly enough, I feel like today I get to celebrate all of my friends. You've now probably written me off as a crazy loner who has imaginary friends that are saints. Wrong. I just realized that today feels different because it is the first time in my life that my goal is to become a Saint. Sainthood never really seemed attainable to me, nor did it seem like anything that was possible or normal girls from Lincoln, Nebraska. It was such an abstract concept and they were just people I prayed to when I needed to win a volleyball game or when I lost my keys for the 25th time.

    When started learning more about them, I saw how each of them had a uniquely personal story of their encounter with God and how they heard His call in their lives. I started to notice their stories sounding more and more like my own. They came from towns big and small, all around the world, from good families and bad families and had every struggle you can name. But just like St. Jose Maria Escriva says, "A Saint is a sinner who keeps trying." That is what sets their lives apart from every other good man or woman who has ever lived. At some point, they let God take over. Be it at 14 or 74, they not only listened to his call...but they responded. Some did this in a radical way like giving up family wealth and going out into the desert. Others did it by small yes's everyday that one day changed a city in India.

    Maybe our call to sanctity doesn't mean giving up our lives to preach the gospel in foreign countries (if it does, by all means do that.) It might not mean entering a convent and living a cloistered life (again, if it does please do that.) But I think for most of us, the call to sanctity is waking up in the morning, asking God what He wants of us that day and doing it. Maybe that means He is asking you to be a missionary (I know of this pretty cool organization 😉). Or maybe it means offering up a small suffering for someone who needs it.

Whatever it may be, listen and respond. 

We serve an incredible God Who desperately wants to spend eternity in heaven with us. But eternity begins with your choices today. And one day may we be one of those "wearing white robes, holding palm branches in our hands," (Rev. 7:9) Maybe one day, November 1st will be our feast day too. 

All you holy men and women, Angels and saints of God....... pray for us. 

this is not a job.

This is the Golden Question... "What does a normal day look like to you?" I just have to laugh because using the word normal to explain any part of our lives is comical to me. However, it is a valid question and I want to give a valid answer. Please read on if you actually want to know what a day in the life of a missionary. If not, skip down beneath the line.

I wake up around 7:30 am (let's be honest...my alarm was set for 7:30 but I didn't get out of bed until 8 am). I walk downstairs to make a pot of coffee and see that one of my roommates is working out in our living room with a student who lives down the street. My other roommate is meeting with a student on our porch. I start the coffeepot, run upstairs to get dressed and grab my coffee on the way out to meet up with a girl who I have invited to bible study for two weeks. She only has 30 minutes in between her classes so I jump on my bike and race to the Union to meet her. After meeting with her, I invite her to join me for mass at noon--which she does. Afterwards, I walk downstairs to eat lunch in the Newman cafeteria. I try to find some new people that I've never met before and I sit down at a table with a girl who has her sorority letters on her necklace. We make conversation and I find out that she's a transfer student living at Newman who is in a sorority. I invite her to come to the bible study I'm having later that afternoon and she says she will see if she's free. Once I finish lunch, I go into one of the study rooms to prep bible study for that afternoon. After spending an hour or so prepping, I go to meet another student at the Quad to go on a rosary walk and talk about her prayer life and her bible study. While walking on the Quad, we stop and talk to a woman sitting by herself and introduce ourselves. She's Muslim and is celebrating one of their holidays this weekend. We ask her if she's ever been into a Catholic church and she hadn't, so we invite her to come to St. John's with us and show her around. She was amazed and thanked us for showing her around--we told her she is always welcome here. That afternoon is bible study and afterward I run home and have a date with my guitar #datingfast. Right when I get home, three students knock on our door and want to come over and hang out. I keep my guitar out and we sit around and share life, talk about our days, play some guitar and at about midnight we call it a night.

I don't have a time card that I punch after a certain amount of hours that tells me I'm "off the clock." I can't go home and lay on the couch and leave work at work. Sixteen hour days are the norm. I'm not in an office, secluded from the world, just trying to get through the day so I can get to the weekend just to start it all over again the next week. No, this is not a job. I don't get an hourly wage that I can get overtime for if I need it that week. 

This is not a job. 

This is my life. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

June 1, 2015 was the first time I ever really understood what "missionary life" meant--the day I started as a FOCUS missionary. I didn't necessary fully realize what I was signing up for but I knew that this is what God called me to and my past has told me He knows what's up better than I do. I figured, "I can do anything for two years. Let's do this, God." But what I didn't realize was that my whole life would change. Literally.

I didn't want to have to ask people to support me financially--who wants to live fully dependent on other people's tithing? Our world, culture, and sometimes families tell us you work hard for your money and you put in the hours to get the paycheck. We are living counter-culturally (even biblically if you wanna go there) in asking other people to partner with us in this mission and support us as we share the Gospel.

Home was no longer a place but more of a foreign concept that I couldn't really put my finger on. When I moved to Champaign, I was homesick. I was longing for that place that I knew everyone and everyone knew me. I wanted to be back with my family and to be with people who knew my life and  understood where I was coming from. As the year went on, however, I started living life and creating memories with the people around me. The strangers quickly became my family and I was going through all of these changes with them and not the people I had been with for the last several years. I was feeling things that I didn't really understand but I was figuring it out with the students I became friends with, my team, and our priests and religious sisters. Soon enough, the people who I was closest with in Nebraska (my family and friends) no longer understood my everyday life and talking to them made that apparent. I could explain things on the phone but I couldn't explain in words the loneliness I felt while being surrounded with people, or the excitement I got when one girl finally came to bible study after three months. Or the stressfulness in planning a mission trip to Rome over spring break because I suck at details and felt like the world was on my shoulders. But Anne Marie was there when I just needed to break down in our one-on-one meeting because I didn't understand why no one understood. Honor was there to just listen to me talk about my friends even though she had no idea who they were or what was going on. Teresa was there to play volleyball with on a Sunday night because I missed playing with my sister. Kanji was there to listen to me when I just needed a guy's perspective on my crazy thoughts and ideas. MK was there to bring back the "sorority girl" in me when I was missing my own memories in Gamma Phi. Brad was there to teach me that dang B minor chord when I just wanted to give up and skip it (I still haven't gotten it but I promise...this year...). Thomas was there to let me crash his 11 PM holy hour in front of the Blessed Sacrament when the only thing I needed was to sit in front of the One who just knew.

These people became my friends. They became the ones I made memories with and the ones I laughed with on a daily basis. And soon, a piece of my heart got stuck in Champaign, Illinois and I started calling it home. All the while still longing to be back in Nebraska.

After countless plane rides, conferences, trainings, weddings, holidays, etc., I realized that not even "home" feels like home anymore. My heart is so restless and I just want to scream because I'm so desperately wanting to feel settled without really knowing what that even means. I see my friends settling into their new apartments with their fiancé's and dogs and finally getting in the groove of their new jobs. They have a home. And yet, I'm out here living day by day, looking for the next person God is going to put in front of me that He needs me to encounter. I have no idea what today holds, let alone what next year holds for me.

I'm starting to realize that the moment I became a missionary, home became heaven.

And my heart will always be restless until it rests with You, my Lord and my God. So take this heart of mine wherever You desire it to be. I am your missionary for the rest of my life. Lead me in Your way and even though I desire with my whole heart to be settled and living a comfortable life, I know now that I was not made for comfort. Take me to the ends of the earth if that's where You will be--because I only desire You and nothing more.

how Mercy found me.

We always talk about how Jesus goes out of His way to meet people where they are at. There are many examples of Him physically going out of His way to meet people along the road (i.e. The woman at the well, Jesus and Zacchaeus, the lost sheep, etc). I always read these stories and that part never really meant anything to me. Okay, so Jesus knew that someone needed His help so He went a few steps out of His way to meet a woman and change her life forever and then she converts her entire town--big deal. Once I actually looked into it more, I realized that He didn't just go a couple of steps out of His way to meet these people. He went miles and miles out of His way into foreign lands where He shouldn't have been to meet these people--these sinners. And yet He did it without hesitation. He did it without them asking for it. He did it without them even noticing. 

I never really understood what "God's Mercy" was growing up. I knew the Divine Mercy chaplet and the image of blood and water coming from Jesus' heart. I knew that His mercy was there, I just never really needed it *facepalm*. Until I realized I did. 

There are times in all of our lives where we hit rock bottom. That's not a new thing in the Christian life--everyone has been there. We all know how bad sin hits us and yet we keep going back to it thinking it will satisfy us. Well, that is where my story with Mercy begins. 

Going into my senior year of college, I was so excited to come back to campus at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. I had just got done with an internship in Texas and I just knew in my heart that God was calling me to be a missionary with FOCUS. The summer was filled with so many moments where God was so close to me and revealed Himself very evidently in my life. As the first few weeks of school began, my prayer was changing a little. I didn't really 'feel' much during prayer and I didn't have this desire in my heart to run to the chapel everyday like I had in Texas. Afterwards, I would walk out of the chapel thinking, "Maybe tomorrow." But then the next day I made up an excuse and didn't make it to the chapel. I figured, "God, I'm putting the effort in and You aren't giving me anything so I'm not doing it anymore. If you want me, You'll have to figure it out yourself." After a few months of trying to find this intimacy with God that came so easily in Texas, I gave up. I stopped praying, I stopped going to daily mass, I just stopped. 

I felt like I was the only one in control of my intimacy with God. He had nothing to do with it. Let me tell you something, knowing your own human weakness and feeling like your intimacy with God depends solely on you might be the most sinking feeling in the world. I went from drinking one night a weekend to all three nights every weekend. The 'hook-up culture' became a normal part of my life and there were many mornings I woke up never wanting to drink again--then doing it all over again the next weekend. In the midst of all of this, I still knew God wanted me to be a missionary. I applied in November and got hired in December. That threw a whole new wrench into things. The devil came slyly into my heart telling me I wasn't worthy of spreading God's love when I didn't even feel loved myself. I was slowly getting into the mindset that my worth came from who was paying attention to me or who liked me. Nothing else. 

Fast forward to FOCUS summer training in June. Let's just say, I knew a lot of healing had to happen before I got to campus and started telling women that their identity is in Christ. I had to first realize that for myself. About three weeks into training, we had a retreat weekend. I went on a retreat called a Spiritual Impact Bootcamp and in adoration was when I met Mercy for the first time. After going to an intense confession, I went back to my spot and put my head down. I did my penance, and took a deep breath. I looked up and saw Christ in the monstrance and behind was a HUGE image of the Divine Mercy shown behind Him. 

It wasn't the fact that Jesus was mega life-size. It wasn't His eyes that seemed to be looking directly at me no matter where I went and it wasn't even the streams of blood and water flowing from His heart. It wasn't any of that. It was His foot. He wasn't just standing stationary waiting for me to come to Him. He wasn't waiting there until I had everything figured out to run into His arms, perfectly pure, whole and worthy. No. He was coming to me. He was the one taking a step toward me and going out of His way to come find me amidst my brokenness, amidst my failures, amidst this darkness that felt like it was overtaking me. I was the woman at the well that Jesus came miles and miles out of His way to find and show His Mercy. 

I didn't have to find Mercy, Mercy found me. 

This was the first time I realized that it wasn't only me in this fight for His love. He had been running after me the entire time. That small step forward in the Divine Mercy image overcame me like a huge wave of emotion and I realized that all those times that I was hungover on the bathroom floor, all those times I went into the chapel and didn't feel anything, all those times I found comfort in some random person at the bar--He was right there. It was then that I came to realize that Mercy isn't about me. It's not about what I have or haven't done, it's not about how far I have fallen, how many times I have sinned, how many times I went to mass or how often I prayed. It didn't matter if I called out to God in those times of darkness or if I ignored Him. All that mattered was the very moment that I knew He was chasing after me the entire time. 

Six months later, Pope Francis declared this year the Year of Mercy. Fitting, huh?! 

What is the Year of Mercy?  

"During this special period of time in the Church, Pope Francis calls all Catholics to be profound witnesses to mercy and to "find the joy rediscovering and rendering fruitful God's mercy, with which we are all called to give comfort to every man and every woman of our time."  - yearofmercy.org

I don't think there is a more perfect time in history than now for a year of learning about, seeking after, or understanding God's Mercy. Something that goes along with the Year of Mercy was Pope Francis blessing a door at St. Peter's Basilica naming it the Holy Door of Mercy.

Why the Holy Door of Mercy? 

"To experience and obtain the Indulgence, the faithful are called to make a brief pilgrimage to the Holy Door, open in every Cathedral or in the churches designated by the Diocesan Bishop, and in the four Papal Basilicas in Rome, as a sign of the deep desire for true conversion." -Pope Francis

Now, going back to the "He's been chasing after me the entire time" part of the story. I never really understood how this correlated with the Year of Mercy and the doors of Mercy until I went on a pilgrimage to Rome this past Holy Week. I knew what a Holy Door was, we have one in our Newman Center that I pass through every day. But its significance never really hit me that hard. What's an indulgence anyway??? 

That's beside the point. As I went to Rome, I knew that we would be going through all of the Holy Doors in the four major Basilicas. What I didn't realize was how many other doors of mercy we would pass through (I think 15 or 16 total). This just reminded me of how God's Mercy really does work. We know that it's there, but we don't really think about it all too often. We only think about it when we need it. But God's Mercy is truly reflected in all of these Holy Doors that we passed through. All I had to do was make the pilgrimage there (that's a whole different blog post in and of itself) to allow God to bring me to all of these Holy Doors of Mercy. All I had to do was open my heart a tiny, tiny bit to allow Mercy Himself to flood my very being. That's how God works. He made us human and He knows that we are human and we fail at everything. But through that humanness He allows us to glorify Him. 

And so, I stood at the Holy Door of Mercy--I stood before Mercy Himself--to show my gratitude, to show my acceptance and to show my devotion to Him with a kiss. 

To be full.

The only way I can even begin to describe how 2015 went is with one word; full. It seems like a cliche word that is often used to describe the busy-ness of someone's schedule or life. Which, 2015 was definitely full in that way too, but this year was full in a way far greater than my busy schedule.

To experience emptiness, as described in my post entitled "feeling worthy doesn't make you worthy," may be one of the most devastating, encroaching feelings in the world. Last year at this time that is what I was--I was empty and searching. By some figment of my imagination, I thought that I could "do" something about this loneliness I was experiencing. However, by the grace of God, I am human and there is nothing I could say or do nor any amount of prayer that could give me the power to fill myself up. Yet, there was one thing I could do and it was to say 'yes'. I could say yes to God and to whatever He was asking of me--even if it seemed like it would leave me more empty.

Yes, God, I will be a missionary. 

Yes, I will give up dating for a year and try to turn my heart more fully to You. 

Yes, I will forgive myself as You have forgiven me. 

Yes, I will move to Illinois. 

Yes, I will leave the comfort of my family and friends. 

Yes, I will spend my time spreading Your Gospel of love and light amidst the culture of darkness. 

And every time I felt like each of these things was taking something away and was going to leave me with nothing, it did the exact opposite. It left me more full, fuller than I have ever been. And let me tell you this, I have searched for this in a lot of places and not once could I have fathomed this life. A life that is full of authentic happiness, lasting peace, true contentment and virtuous love and relationships. 

I have learned that Christ doesn't want to give Him everything and then leave us with nothing. He wants to take the little we can give and multiply it one-hundred-fold. After seeing the Mother Teresa movie, The Letters, she says, "I am just a pencil in God's Divine Hand," she goes on to say that He uses her nothingness to glorify Him. 

In 2015, 

 I graduated from college,

I became a FOCUS missionary,  

I moved to Champaign, Illinois, 

I got to see Pope Francis, 

And three of my best friends got engaged.  

I have also had the privilege of meeting a countless number of people who have exhibited Christ's love for me on this earth. To say it has been a good year would be an understatement. I am filled to the brim with grace and happiness. Christ has taken my small and insignificant 'yes's' and has transformed them into His most glorious plan. Through His Divine Mercy, may He always use my nothingness to glorify His Heavenly Kingdom here on earth. 

stay.beautiful, 

hms

Being Stripped.

A couple of nights ago, I had the unique but awesome opportunity to Skype with two of my fellow missionaries (and sisters in Christ). Anna, who is a first year serving at Mizzou, and Lauren, who is a fellow Thunderbolt and first year serving at Pittsburgh. It was so great to catch up with them and to just take a deep breath and be able to laugh and just be with friends who fully understand first year missionary life.

As we were catching each other up on how team life is going, the amazing girls we get the privilege to work with and what is going on at our campuses, we all paused. We were all thinking the same thing, "So how is it really going?" Although all of the previous things we mentioned were true, we all knew there was more to be said. Then Lauren dropped a truth bomb. She said, "Some days I wonder what it would be like to have a normal job. To come home after you've put in your day's work and just check out on the couch. I wonder what it would be like to actually feel like I've accomplished something or to be able to check off one thing on my ten-page long to-do list.

But that's not what we signed up for. 

We signed up to be a part of a mission (or rather a Commission) that never ends. We signed up for a "job" that isn't a job, it is a life. We signed up to give up normality. We signed up to leave the comfort of our homes, a state we so dearly love and friends we've grown so close with to serve on a campus where we are literally no one. No one knows we were the president of this or that. No one knows we were homecoming royalty. No one knows who we dated or what sorority we were in and frankly, I don't think anyone really cares. Anything and everything we ever identified ourselves with that wasn't Our Lord Jesus Christ was stripped away from us the day we got the title "missionary for Christ."

Being a missionary means being stripped, similar to the way Christ was stripped during His Passion. Everything was taken away besides the very essence of His Being. We are being stripped of the comforts of the world. We are stripped of our identity in anything other than who we are at our core. We are stripped of all the ways we've ever thought the world could satisfy us--then we are left weak. Standing at the foot of the cross, at the foot altar, in front of the Eucharist crying out, "Lord, I can't do this anymore."

And that is exactly where He wants us. 

He's been waiting for you to just ask Him for His help all along. 

"For my power is made perfect in weakness." 

                                     2 Corinthians 12:9

He wants so badly to build us up into this incredible palace of His love. But usually it takes so long for us to get down on our knees and admit our weakness. Missionary life is not a normal one, that's for sure. Is it rewarding? You wouldn't even believe the small rewards I receive on a daily basis. Is it worth it? No doubt about it. We are all on this earth to become saints and help the people around us become saints. Every day we have the chance to take one step closer to sainthood. What are you doing today to become a saint? What are you doing to help the person next to you become a saint?

stay beautiful my friends. 

hms.

All who are thirsty.

Hello blog world!

I'm so excited to get to update you on the goings on in my life in Chambana (Champaign-Urbana) and share all the amazing ways God is and has been working in the past few months. Let's get started!

This summer I was so blessed to have gotten to spend the summer amongst 500 missionaries in Ave Maria, Florida. I had no idea what to expect even though I had heard about summer training from a multitude of missionaries before. Little did I know, it was going to be a grace-filled 5 weeks getting to grow in love with some absolutely incredible people who taught me something new about how Christ Himself loves us. Whether it was spending the day at the beach laughing, sitting in an auditorium sipping subpar coffee (that's an understatement), or smoking a cigar while talking about what true femininity and masculinity is with my brothers and sisters in Christ. I was amidst our generation of saints and martyrs this summer and I was so honored to be chosen to serve Christ and His Church with a team of soldiers who are so ready and willing to die for this mission. If that doesn't give you goosebumps then you're crazy.

On the fourth of July, I got to come home to my family for about a month and spend time with them before I left for my placement. It made me realize how grateful I am for my family and friends who will always be there to support me and love me in wherever it is that God calls me.

At the beginning of August, me and my parents packed up my jeep and the truck and headed east to Illinois. After 8 hours in the car, we arrived in Champaign-Urbana-- my new home. Little did I know how well I would adjust to the town. The University of Illinois covers two towns; Champaign is the more college-town-esque city that has an awesome downtown area comparable to the Railyard in Lincoln and Urbana (where I live) is the more hipster town that has an awesome farmer's market every Saturday and is filled with co-ops and beautiful parks.

This is me after the Farmer's market with cold press coffee, essential oils and a hand-painted card.

Before students moved in, we got to know the staff at St. John's Catholic Newman Center. There are four chaplains (Fr. Luke, Fr. Jim, Fr. Bill and Fr. Dan) and each of them brings a different personality and blessing to the church. Along with the four priests, we also have four sisters that work directly with the students and staff. I'm so blessed to have all of these men and women of God surrounding me and teaching me more about living the Catholic faith and living out my relationship with Jesus Christ. 

Move In day shenanigans with Fr. Bill and some RAs (doing the macarena)

Students finally came on August 15 and Fall Outreach was in full swing. Fall Outreach is basically just the first part of the semester where we hold events almost every day/weekend to meet students and form a relationship with them in order to lead them to a deeper relationship with Christ and encounter Him through our friendship and through bible study. It was so cool to see how the Holy Spirit was working through all of these encounters and leading us to people who we needed to meet.  God was definitely present and gave us the strength to persevere through our human exhaustion to be present with these students. 

The reason I titled this post "all who are thirsty" goes along with a bible verse that followed me around this summer--the Woman at the Well (John 4). At training, I was reflecting on this passage a lot and I'd like to share my reflections on it with you all. 

In short, this passage is about a woman who is going about her daily life (getting water from the well) and encounters Christ and in turn goes and tells her entire town about Him and many of them are converted. HOLY CRAP. It is so profound and I relate so much to this woman. Basically, she is just living her life--past wounds on her heart, her future in question, just doing what she knows how and what she needs to do. But Jesus "had to pass through Samaria" and he was there waiting for her even before she knew who He was. He asks her for a drink (one simple thing she could do for Him) and yet she questions Him. Her humanness is so apparent and so relatable. But she is longing to know who He is in a deeper way--she is coming to the well because she thirsts and she thought going to the well is what would quench that thirst. Jesus meets her where she is at, literally, and shows her that He desires to give her the Living Water. After this encounter, she can't help but drop her bucket and proclaim His name to her town and all the people around her. I've reflected a lot on this passage; seeing myself in this woman in many different ways and in many different stages in my life. But I think in a way we can all relate to this woman--especially students on a college campus. I feel so blessed to work with women who are seeking something greater than themselves and helping them have an encounter with Christ like this woman did which in turn allows them to drop their buckets- their burdens, past mistakes, future worries- and to proclaim Christ's name to everyone they meet. 

I'm so blessed to be able to be on this journey with so many amazing people and walk with women who never cease to inspire me. God is so good and continues to amaze me every day by the people He puts in my life and the encounters I have with students on campus. Although this crazy journey has just begun, I'm already so incredibly content with God's will and being a part of the Great Commission. 

Thank you for reading and know that I am praying for all of you. If you have specific intentions, please comment them below or email me at hannah.schinkel@focus.org. I have the great opportunity to spend time with Christ in front of the Blessed Sacrament every day and unite in His Suffering in the Mass daily so be assured your intentions will be prayed for! 

Stay Beautiful kids. 

hannah.marie

feeling worthy doesn't make you worthy.

A few days ago, I was watching an episode of Friends with my roommate. For any and all of you Friends fanatics out there, it was one of the first episodes of the infamous "Ross and Emily" era. For you non-Friends fanatics out there (myself included) I will set the scene for you.

Basically Ross meets this woman from England who is in America visiting for work or something--I'm obviously not part of the fan club. Long story short, after only 6 weeks, yes you read that correctly, Ross proposes to Emily so that she can stay in America. He keeps telling her how much he loves her and he says these four words that are so redundant "It just feels right." Meanwhile, to get back at Ross, Rachel (Jennifer Aniston) asks her male friend whom she has gone on four dates with--yes four--if he will marry her because to her "It just feels right." Needless to say, neither one works out. 

This being said, I think we can all agree that both of these scenarios are irrational and unreasonable. I know it's in a tv show and that apparently doesn't happen in real life but I beg to differ. Many, many times we think our feelings are what is right and if you're like me, you're really good at feeling. Feeling happy comes pretty easy because of all the blessings around me, feeling sad doesn't come as often but it is definitely there. We've all felt lonely, anxious, overwhelmed, ecstatic, confused and loved. Feelings are something that we all have in common.

Most of the time, however, we give our feelings way too much attention and/or credit for what is happening in our lives (and especially in our spiritual lives). I've heard so many people say after a first date, "I just wasn't really feeling it," or "It just felt right." Whether we think about it or not, almost all of our decisions are based off of how that decision will make us feel. We all strive to feel happy and our choices are based off of that goal--to be happy. But putting this much emphasis on feeling leaves little room for rationality.

Let me tell you a little story. 


This past summer I was living in Texas doing an internship. I had the time of my life, but before I went down there I had no idea what it was going to be like. I didn't know where there was going to be a Catholic Church or if I was even going to have any friends at all down there. Long story short, I got down to Texas and found an amazing Catholic church that was only three minutes away from my house--God wink #1. I started going to mass there during the week and every Sunday and saw that they were starting a young adult bible study on Monday nights--God wink #2. As you can probably tell, although I wasn't in Nebraska anymore, I could feel and see God everywhere. He just knew that I needed to rely on and feel Him while I was away from home and the Holy Spirit was so vivid in my life. 

Fast forward to the beginning of the school year, I was so excited to come back and finish my last year of college strong. I was living in an awesome house with some amazing women and I couldn't wait to see what the year had in store. Slowly but surely, my priorities started becoming more skewed and daily mass and my spiritual life weren't getting a ton of attention. However when I did go and pray or go to mass it was radically different than when I was in Texas. I didn't feel anything. Literally I couldn't hear God at all, I didn't feel happy or peaceful or joyful or anything. It wasn't anything like how I had felt for the past three months in my spiritual life and I had no idea what I did wor what was going on. I understood that I was going through desolation and I knew/know what that means but I never truly had experienced it before. Many, many saints have gone through severe desolation including Mother Teresa who was said to have gone through it for the last 40 years of her life. For those of you who don't know what it is, desolation is basically spiritual dryness. CS Lewis describes it as "the dark night of the soul." That's pretty dramatic but hey, it's CS Lewis. 

As time went on, I thought it would wear off and I would start to feel God more in my prayer life. However even after accepting a job as a FOCUS missionary, it still wasn't there. Nothing. And I didn't know what I was doing wrong. I was seeing a spiritual director, I was going to mass and reading my bible, all the things I was "supposed" to do. And still nothing. So like any person would do (or maybe it was just me) I couldn't take it anymore and took it into my own hands. That's when sin majorly came in and slowly started taking over. It was wrapped in excuses like "I only have one semester of college left" or "Everyone else is doing way worse than me" and the devil had me wrapped around his little fiery finger. And slowly but surely, I started falling into this self-pity and disastrous mindset of not feeling worthy of even going into a church and receiving Christ in the Eucharist because how could I do this to Him after all He has done for me. I was a missionary, dammit, I was supposed to have this figured out. But I didn't. And I was actually failing miserably. 

Good Friday this year was one of the hardest ever because I fell so much more deeply into this feeling of unworthiness and guilt. I was focusing all the attention on what I had done and the guilt I was feeling rather than focusing on the glory of the cross and what He did to heal my unworthiness.  

And finally I walked into church, sat down, and said these words, "Lord, I am not worthy to sit in front of you right now. You know everything and I don't understand how You still unconditionally love me even after all of the times I've turned my back on You and rejected You. But here I am. And even thought I don't feel worthy, You have to show me my worth. YOU have to show me my dignity because right now I can't feel it." 

As I sat there, waiting for Him to overpower me and speak to me, I got nothing. 

Silence. 

So I walked out, got in my car, and started driving. No music, no tears, a little bit of anger, and a lot of confusion and doubt. I started talking myself through it out loud and all of the sudden I started talking in a voice that wasn't my own. And these were His words, to not only myself, but everyone out there going through this: 

"You're right, Hannah, you are not worthy. On our own human terms, your human definition of love says that you are not worthy and that is why you don't feel worthy. But your worth and dignity don't come from your human definition of them--they come from Mine. You aren't worthy because you feel worthy. You aren't loved because you feel loved and you aren't precious because you feel precious. You weren't called to be a missionary because you felt like it. You are worthy, loved, precious and called because I made you and because I died on My cross to prove that worth to you. Feelings will pass, my dear Hannah, they will come and they will go. But My Love for you is not going away whether you feel it or not. And tell the world this, that when they don't feel me, when they can't see or feel my love for them, tell them it is there. It's in the wind, it's in the passing smile of a stranger or the kind words of a friend. That's My Love when they can't see or feel Me. It's always there, always has been there, and always will be."  

Just because you feel something, or in my case don't feel something, doesn't always mean that it's true. My worth (and yours) doesn't come from whether you feel worthy or not. It comes from Him, who died to give you that worth and prove His love to you.

As Steven Curtis Chapman says in his song, "Put it all in the hands of the Father, give it all over to the only one who can turn it into something beautiful." 

Let Him love you. Let Him make you beautiful. 

stop predicting the rain.

This morning, as I was sitting at the Mill with a new friend, we read today's gospel. In it Jesus says,

"When you see a cloud rising in the west you say immediately that it is going to rain--and so it does." 

     As I finished the reading, I didn't really think twice about what He meant by that. Then He goes on to say,

"You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of the earth and the sky; why do you not know how to interpret the present time?" 

      Oh, okay. I get you Jesus. It finally registers in my mind that the way we perceive things is most likely how they are going to be. If we "see the clouds coming" and expect rain, it's probably going to rain. However, if we perceive that it is going to be sunny, then the sun will probably come out. This is what I needed to hear right now in my life. The attitude and energy that I give off to the universe and have in certain situations is what is going to come back to me; whether that's school, work, friendships, or relationships.

     I've had such a negative, independent attitude towards all things love and relationships because of past wounds or scars (many of which I'm now realizing were caused by myself) that now every time God opens a door, I automatically expect the rain. I start to think of all the ways it's not going to work or what could go wrong that I fail to be present in that moment. Something I've realized (though some may say "duh Hannah") is that expecting rain isn't going to bring me sunshine. Yes, it's okay to acknowledge wounds and scars. However, acknowledging them doesn't mean giving them the power to control your life right now. I need to open our eyes to the fact that I'm not the only person out there who has scars and who is scared. Whether that may be a fear of the unknown future, or the fear of opening up and letting people into my heart to see those scars. Everyone is scared to some extent. Whether or not they want to admit it, everyone is scared to reveal their vulnerable side or their insecurities--and that's okay. We aren't meant to lay out our whole lives to everyone right when we meet them. However, something I've struggled with is striving for this perfect, "I-have-it-all-together" image that couldn't be farther from the truth.

     If we don't acknowledge that we are sinners and that we are actually incredibly flawed and imperfect, we're basically saying that Christ's Passion and Death were for nothing. If we aren't sinners, He came for nothing.

    Although the hardest thing in the world is to admit that we're wrong, that is the exact thing that is going to allow us to open ourselves up to not only Christ, but to others. And once we start allowing others to see the REAL us and not the image of who we want them to think we are, is when we will be able to recognize and be grateful for all the doors God has been opening up all along.



Sometimes the rain comes even when we don't see the clouds up ahead. But the worst thing we can do to ourselves is think that we are alone. Look around you; someone is waiting for your sunshine.

one year later...

On July 9, 2013, I packed up one backpack and set off with a group of strangers to three countries I knew nothing about. At the time, I was excited on the surface but deep down scared out of my mind at what God was going to ask of me on this trip. Not only was I scared of what He was going to ask of me on the trip, but I was even more scared about how it would change my life after the fact--because I knew from here on out everything was going to be different. I wasn't going to be able to plan out my life according to how I wanted it to be, nor was I going to be able to suppress the inherent Light inside me that God had been trying to use for 21 years.

After many, many months of trying to make this blog post perfect in a way that will describe somewhat how life-changing this experience was, this is what came of it.

Warning: My heart and soul is going to be poured out during this blog post so if you aren't ready for that, you might want to stop reading. 

 The first way (of many) ways that God showed me His infinite power on this trip was through the fundraising process. In a small amount of time, I was to raise $3,800. When He made the financial aspect of the trip happen through the many, many angels I have surrounding me, I came to the realization that this trip wasn't about me. No, No..it was way, way more than that. Christianity and Catholicism is a radical life of giving of yourself to every single person you come into contact with; it's a way of life. And God was asking us to give up the comfort of our country, our homes, our own food, and all of the physical pleasures we experience on a daily basis to do just that--bring His Light and His Life to the people of Singapore, Malaysia and the Philippines. 

Bring It On

Even before we left the United States, I met literal angels helping us get to where we needed to go along the way. Alissa and I had a woman who flew with us from Omaha to LA hold a plane in Houston until we were able to run across...no no...sprint across the airport to catch the plane. She told all of the flight attendants that the plan couldn't leave until we got there. I'm not sure where that LA school teacher is now, but wherever you are--thank you. 

Looking back on all of our experiences, the people, the country, it changed something inside of me. At the time, I was just living each day and asking God for the strength to make it through that single day. I had zero control over anything that was going to happen and I was in a situation that I could not get out of. Although it may not have been the air-conditioned, running-water, bug-free house that I'm living in now, I found peace knowing that I was just fine without all of those things. There are times that I make a big deal out of a single spider until I realize one year ago I was sleeping under a mosquito net and praying in a room with flying cockroaches. Yet, the peace in my heart and in all of our hearts, was indescribable. 

There are a million and one things I miss about Malaysia, Singapore and the Philippines. I miss the friendships I made with all of the students, I miss the strange food (however, I don't miss the pig tongue), I miss the kids that changed my life forever. But most importantly, I miss the prayer. The Divine link that connected us to each other and to God through prayer and daily mass was so short that I took every single thing to God and prayed to Him about it--my struggles, the blessings, the future, everything. And despite doing that for a month straight, it is one of the hardest things in my life right now. Praying is the same, but it doesn't feel the same because of all of the distractions: cell phones, Facebook, school, relationships, etc, etc. 

After looking at all of the pictures from the trip again, I wanted to share with you all some of my favorite ones and tell you how it impacted me. 

                           

                                                           Hermosa Beach, California

"Jesus sent out these twelve after instructing them this, 'Do not go into pagan territory. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.' Behold, I am sending you like sheep among wolves." 

Matthew 10:5-16

I could not have asked for a better group of people to have experienced this trip with. I remember thinking right after I got off the phone interview with Frank-o that I was so excited to share something so special with a group of strangers. Although we haven't kept in touch, I want y'all to know that each of you hold a special place in my heart. I hope that this corrupt, crazy, American world and lifestyle doesn't change what God instilled in each of our hearts one year ago. You are each such a light in the lives of the people around you and I want to personally thank you each for impacting me in such a profound way.

My darling Dhea

Although you may have already forgotten us, your smile hasn't left our hearts. The joy you brought every single day to my life made it easy to wake up in the morning and face the day. I never saw Dhea without a smile on her face. In the morning, she would run over as fast as she could and jump on your lap and not get off. She would jump and flip and never stop smiling or laughing or dancing. I miss this darling girl, but I cannot wait to see her smiling face in Heaven one day. 

John Paul 

The first work day in the Philippines, we met John Paul. He was probably a 9 year old boy who couldn't get enough of us. He even came to mass with us a couple times! Whenever we would work, he would work with us doing whatever it was we were doing. He looked up to the guys in our group like a son looked up to his father. It was so cool to see the guys pray with him and love him unconditionally and he respected them so much. John Paul, wherever you are, I miss you. Your tears on the last day weren't a result of the time we spent with you, but were the result of God shining down His love upon you through the men in our group. Praise God for all the guys in our group who touched JP's life in ways they can't imagine. 

Sacrifice

This picture is just one of many pictures that shows the sacrifice that we went through. This is probably the least amount of sacrifice a picture could show, however it is a pretty good picture of how our trip went. One of the things our trip leader said was that you can't just be flexible on this trip, you have to be liquid. Things are going to be thrown at us that weren't planned or totally out of the blue and we just have to say "okay" and do it. The van rides one of many ways we gave up our comfort zones (quite literally) and threw our guards down as a group. We let God form us together and we became so close (physically and spiritually.) It was never a dull moment in these vans, especially when Julian was driving. Thank you Jesus we're alive. ;)

Gigi 

Our Lady of Perpetual Help 

My angel

The gang

And last but not least.....

My beautiful Abai 

I met Abai the second or third day we were in the village. She was always quiet and never said a word, but she had this smile on her face that was literally from an angel. Whenever she would come sit on my lap, she would always just rest her head on my chest and sit there. I never wanted to let her go. She was so little and perfect and it felt like I was holding an angel in my lap. The whole time we were there, I had a rosary that I had made by my friend Julia and had it for over a year. It was always on my wrist and I never took it off. While we were in the Philippines, all of the children always had rosaries around their necks besides Abai. You could see on her face that she wanted one but would always just smile at the other children playing with theirs. I decided that I wanted to leave something with Abai and so I gave her my rosary to have. 

Beautiful girl, I hope you grow up to be whatever your heart desires. You were such an angel to me and I miss you every single day. Know that I love you and hope that smile of yours never goes away. 

So to all of the people out there who think that mission trips are merely made by white, American girls trying to get a new profile picture--I want to respectfully tell you that you couldn't be more wrong. Did I change my profile picture? Yes. Did I go because I needed a radical change in my life? Absolutely. Did God call me to go out and serve His people even though two weeks won't change their physical situation at all? You bet. If your argument against mission trips is that we are actually hurting them and not helping them, I beg to differ. We may not have built an entire house with our bare hands. We didn't bring them out of poverty or drastically change their physical situation at all. However, I ask you to look beyond the physical ramifications of a mission trip because, in reality, that's not what mission trips are (or should be) about. This trip wasn't about me. It wasn't about my profile picture changing or making me feel better about myself because I got to give a kid in the Philippines a hug. This trip was about Christ--as is everything in life. 

Something I struggled with as I came back to my everyday life was wondering if these kids would forget about us. The devil got in my head and told me night and day that what we did and what we brought to them wasn't useless. What I didn't realize at the time though, was that we are not their savior. We cannot protect them or make sure they have dinner or change their lives at all. But God can. Just like I cannot control my life, I cannot be a savior to these kids. But if through me they saw the Light, if through me they felt loved and appreciated and happy, then it was 100% worth it. Maybe they will forget me, maybe they already have. But I will never, ever forget them.