The Boston Blog

I went to Boston for ten days about two months ago. I went with the mindset that I would not change a bit. That I just needed a time to get out of the house and travel a little this summer. Why am I doing this? I asked myself several times before I left. I'm happy where I am. I'm happy with my life and my plan to go to Cal-State Fullerton and the church I go to. "I'm happy with the way things are. I don't want to change." This has been a branded thought in my brain for the past couple years.I often long for things to be normal. So, going away for ten days on a trip that was supposed to be life-changing not only made me feel apprehensive but frightened me.

I suppose I didn't want to know what God really wanted from me. I had already figured out what I wanted to with the next few years of my life and I was expecting that God should just accept, I guess. Right before my plane took off from LAX early Sunday morning, I did something I hadn't done for awhile. I spoke clearly to God. I didn't just pray...I poured out my heart to Him. I told Him that if He wanted more from me, I was willing and ready to accept that and do His bidding.

When I first arrived in Boston, it was warm and humid. It was pretty much the same as Lancaster, PA. I nervously introduced myself to the people around me and explored the campus of Hellenic College. I felt lonely as I began to unpack when I was led to my dorm. I saw the icons I had brought from home and the books that I was to read. I smelled pizza and realized that dinner was being served. As I ran down the stairs, I saw that the television was on. My fellow campers, most of whom I hadn't met, were sitting, eating and watching Zoolander.

I began feeling at home at once.

After a couple days went by, I had already accepted and adapted to the life there. I had a group of friends I hung out with and a couple particular people that I had already begun to have intense connections with. Even if they were silly connections, like our shared love for Foosball. (There was a game room. It had a foosball table, a ping pong table, a pool table, and an air hockey table. It was a blast. I spent a substantial amount of time in the game room with my friends.)

Still missing my old home comforts, my friends, my routine, my tv, Diablo 2...etc. We began talking about vocation and what we all wanted to be "when we grow up." I knew exactly what I wanted to do: either pursue a career in child-care (kindergarten/pre-school teacher) or a journalist. (I've been recently leaning more towards child-care.) Then a teacher challenged us to learn and understand what vocation really was. What I remember is vocation comes from the word "voice" or "called," basically insinuating that a vocation is a calling. "Just as the apostles were called to be apostles, we are called to serve God with the strengths he has given us." Is what one teacher had taught us. I began to reflect on that. I hadn't really thought about what God was calling me to do. The only thing I ever cared about was what I wanted to do.

Before I left for Boston there was only one church that felt like home, St. Barnabas. But after visiting numerous churches all from different archdiocese(s?), I found myself feeling very comfortable at an Antiochian church headed by an Irish priest. As I prayed for my friends at home, different thoughts began occupying my brain. I kept thinking, I could do this! I could live here. I fit like a glove right here. I could go to this church and attend college right here.

Even though I love Orange County, I love St. Barnabas (I will always believe that is where my home is), I love my life here. The one thing that this trip opened me up to was change. I might not end up going and living in Boston. But it doesn't seem like such a scary thing anymore. Attending Boston College might actually be quite a beneficial experience.

God's bidding isn't a scary as it used to seem to me. The other options aren't as bad. I have been opened to new experiences and I praise God for giving me this chance.