First time I've ever done personal journaling as a comic book.

Blessings

I've written a lot on my struggles this year. So much so that it might even seem to those who have followed this blog that it has been all-terrible. It hasn't, but there have been many, many struggles and I miss my home and loved ones terribly. Work has been difficult, and adjusting and trying to figure out who I am outside of Cabrini and academics has been a challenge. But, I think that even in that way JVC has been a blessing: it has allowed me to see things clearly and appreciate them even more. That's not to say I took Sara, my family, or my friends at home for granted, but I definitely see even more now how dear they are all to me. How much I am thankful to be from Philadelphia, to have lived in Cinnaminson and have my friends there, to have gone to Cabrini and to been encouraged and been so involved. I am thankful for all of the events that brought me to JVC.

It has also been a blessing in that this year is a safe place to struggle and grapple with oneself. Were I to come to work and be so hopelessly overwhelmed outside of the realm of JVC it might be more difficutl to admit those things to coworkers or supervisors; this safe feels safer. It has given me a chance to look at my strengths, my weaknesses, and see how the things that make me who I am can operate in a workplace setting whereas before they operated either in isolation: academics, or in space of leadership, safety, and guidance such as with Campus Ministry at school. I've learned to try and accept the fact that I am introverted and try not to fit into the extrovert mold; there is a place for those who operate and run things without being in your face. Standing back and encouraging in simpler and smaller ways and letting participants participate and own their experience instead of pushing and being incredibly hands-on. I could never imagine being an orientation leader at Cabrini becuase I cannot do this (and am sometimes annoyed by it--but that's me. Haha.)

Though I don't often feel as if I bring much to Verbum Dei, it has given me countless blessings. Just seeing the boys interact with faculty and staff, listening to their jokes (good, bad, and vulgar), listening to them debate over what they are learning in class, and watching them work to get into college, watching football and soccer games on senior square... Every once in a while I remember where the boys come from and am ever more impressed and proud of them for where they are and what they are accomplishing. They are not "boys from underserved neighborhoods," they're just boys. Verb boys.

Hearing stories of the success some alumni have had has been a blessing. Seeing Jesse come back and teach here and give back to the school that gave him so much and tell his story to the students here has been a blessing.

Watching the brotherhood form at Verbum Dei has been a particular gift. Faculty and staff here talk all the time about "building brotherhood," and encourage students to trust one another. This could all be simply fluff, buzzwords for the students to groan at. The freshman retreat was all about starting that relationship. The new students might not have understood what they were being told, many didn't believe or didn't buy into what they were being told, that these people they are going to share the next four years with will ever be more than just classmates. Most of them are right out of public school, coming from a space with no trust, no partnership, no people to really rely on. They might have had friends but what Verb promises them; people to help shoulder their burdens, keep them grounded, they can't understand the deeper levels of friendship. Obviously some of that is age, some of it is their surroundings.

But the brotherhood at Verb is real, it is palpable, and it has moved me on many occassions. Even by the end of freshmen retreat I think the boys were starting to grasp it, as they slung arms around each others' shoulders and belted out "Lean on Me" together.

I've seen the brotherhood in action at places that might make a lot of sense: retreats. Junior retreat I wrote about, it was beyond words the level of trust, honesty, and vulnerability I saw in that room. Similarly, on the senior Kairos retreat, students shared of themselves so deeply. Admitted their deepest secrets, talked about their struggles (some incredibly heart-wrenching) and made apologies to fellow classmates.

I've seen it in simple ways, as well.

Counseling, consoling, and commisserating with one another over college denials in the office, encouraging them as they worry over where they may be accepted. On my recent trip to Utah I saw it as one student rested with his back against another and his head on his shoulder. "The freshmen look at the seniors and they probably think we're gay, the way the seniors interact. But they don't really get it, the friendship." It's true--these boys become closer than anyone I ever saw in high school; it is built into the mission of their education. It fosters trust, support, and care. Young men from the neighborhoods that Verb serves are taught not to be vulnerable, not to trust, to be closed off, to be tough and isolated. It's illustrated by the disturbingly high rate of absent fathers for our students here. But this school...it gives them the space to be with one another, to trust one another, and to grow in true friendship. The boys look at one another and they aren't just classmates, they're brothers, all of them. I'm not saying this from a faculty and staff point of view, this is what students have told me both in words and action. I can't even remember how  many times I've heard students here tell others that if they ever need anything, I'm here for you.

I saw it when one of our students here could no longer go on the Navajo Nation Immersion trip because his mother was seriously ill. He came to our sendoff prayer service that Saturday morning. He didn't know why, he said, he just felt like he had to be there. He needed somewhere he felt safe and supported. We prayed over him that morning, he received hugs from all the other students going. Well wishes and prayers.

An hour into our drive that day, we stopped because we had learned his mother passed away. We prayed for him and every student gave an intention. For the whole week of our trip, he was present in every action, every reflection, every prayer. The students didn't forget and kept him in their thoughts. What kind of high school builds that kind of support among its students? These weren't even all students who knew him, but they all cared deeply for his well-being and comfort.

I've been moved in strange moments. Honors and student of the months ceremonies when the principal lists off more than a dozen students each month, reading the descriptions and reasons from each teacher as to why the student is getting their award. At grad-at-grad week, a week dedicated to developing consciousness of the school's goals for its "graduates at graduation," during the closing ceremony when Isaiah and a few other students belted out a rocking tune for the celebration. At mass when Isaiah again (on vocals), and Miguel (on guitar) gave an incredible performance at communion (to a resounding applause following). Listening to the choir at mass. The way students on the immersion trip moved to the back during our hike to chat with the slower people in the back.

A lot of this amazing atmosphere is fostered by the faculty and staff who care deeply for the students, hold them accountable, and give them endless support, sacrificing their weekends, afternoons, and evenings for the benefit of the students. Tireless effort from Martinique in college guidance, Karen in Campus Ministry, Krista in Christian Service, administration, and every teacher and every other person who works at this school.

Even more now than at Cabrini I've seen the amazing gift of Campus Ministry. By providing a safe space for encouragement and honesty, students grow in their understanding of themselves, of others, and sometimes God, and that allows them to come more together, to believe in themselves and to in turn encourage others. Campus Ministry did these things for me, but as I've worked at Verb I've seen it in action over and over. The JEDIS are an amazing group of students dedicated to helping others. Freshman Retreat got students thinking about their life and what they might be able to gain from this unique experience. Junior Retreat gave students the opportunity to become vulnerable with their classmates. Kairos tore down walls, started to heal old wounds, and showed students that they are loved by their friends and family.

At Kairos I sat and watched students play Monopoly and that moment I was in awe of where I was. I was sitting at a table with a former gang member, a former drug dealer, and in the room were victims of abuse, people with addictions, and I was left speechless; dumbstruck. Even those that may not have faced tragedy still grew up surrounded by the hardships of the inner-city. Pressures of drugs, gangs. Surrounded by violence. And each has undoubtedly been taught outside of Verb that they will never leave that place.

The boys at Verbum Dei have seen so much, been through so much. Some don't even realize just how much or how unjust their situation has been. And yet they continue to be strong. To be intelligent. To be simply high school boys and teenagers. Many young men and women in this country are not given that opportunity: to just be teenagers. They are not given the opportunity to dream of and work for a better future, to escape the neighborhoods that trap so many. But at Verb they are given the freedom to just be.

It is a blessing to see this good work, to be part of it in a small way. And for that, despite struggles, despite hardships, despite an aching, unending homesickness, I am thankful for my time with Verbum Dei and all it has shown me and taught me.

True Heroes Under God

"You are all THUGS: True Heroes Under God."

If I could capture the essence of Verbum Dei, this brilliant piece of wordplay spoken by one of our JEDIS (Jesuit Educated Disciples in Service, the student campus ministry team), would be it. Verb is located in Watts, right on South Central Avenue and adjacent to the Nickerson Gardens Housing Projects, one of the largest housing projects in the US. Verb serves young men from the surrounding communities who come from low-income backgrounds. These inner-city boys have not had much access to quality education and many have not had much access to safety or stability. Verb provides that. The boys like to think of themselves as tough guys. They're teenagers, and most of them have huge egos. But they're much more than that outer bravado, more than just "thugs," which the world is most likely to think of a black or latino kid from South Central. They are "men with and for others."

I’ve struggled a lot this year with feeling useless. It's been difficult dealing with homesickness, a long distance relationship, and community obligations. A lot of it crept into work. Sometimes I feel like I've made a mistake, or that I would be doing better for the people I love if I hadn't left. What am I really doing for the students at Verb? As an introvert, my job has been challenging. There are days I don't feel like I'm doing anything. I've sat and pondered and written and reevaluated the choices and experiences that brought me to Los Angeles. I've spent many long nights and shed a few tears because of this heartache. I've thought about leaving.

But something has kept me here the last six months; what exactly that is has eluded me. In many ways I feel like things would move forward in exactly the same way at my placement were I to leave. My contribution is pretty minimal, all things considered.

Did I really come here to make a difference? I don't think I ever truly believed I was going to change any lives. Sure, I thought I was better prepared for the transition and that I would be able to be more active and involved, but even if I were…would I recognize that? I have a hunch that at my job, when day-to-day I see students and am there for really nothing else than to hang out I wouldn't ever really feel like I was doing any good. I've helped out writing a few college essays, answered a few questions, but have I really done anything for the boys at Verb? I don't know. I probably never will. And so my job has been a struggle. Day-to-day I never know what work is going to be like. Some days I've sat and done little more than paperwork and punched service hours into an excel file. Other days I've sat and helped a student pour over his Common App supplements and essays. Chatted about video games during lunch.  What good are these things?

And so, again, I returned to what brought me here. That's when I realized: I came to LA for myself. This has been a harrowing realization. Is that selfish? I came here to learn. To discover more of myself and the world and my place in it. On more than one occasion before I came here I wondered if I would come away with things to write about.

Sometimes I feel exploitative, wanting these things. I can't imagine any JV doesn't feel this way at times. But I think it’s more self-important to think I could come here and fix anything or make some kind of significant impact or change a person's life. This isn't my world, I’m just a small part of it.

But, still, at work I struggle a lot with not doing much. My housemates have amazing jobs doing direct service work at placements in which they are integral parts of the operation. My title has "assistant" right there at the end of it.

I think the real selfishness is thinking that anything I do can really make a difference.

"Don't set out to change the world," Father Greg Boyle said at a conference I attended recently, "Set out to wonder how other people are doing. And the world will change around you."

Every once in a while things happen at work and I get why I'm here.

The quote I opened with was spoken at our Junior Retreat. The day closed with a simple activity: stand up if this statement applies to you. Statements included being victims of abuse (physical, sexual), feeling judged or unsafe because of race, coming from a single-parent household, knowing someone in a gang, having thoughts of suicide, drug use, feeling depressed more than happy, feeling fear walking down the street, and more. Far too many kids stood up for each and every statement. These are 16,17 year old boys. The amount that they've been through broke my heart. And then immediately after they repaired it and inspired me. The students went in a circle and said how they felt about the activity. Several of these boys defied their gender stereotypes and expressed their love for the entire class and thanked their classmates, said they would do anything for any one of their brothers. One student was so moved and angered by what people stood up for, and simply wanted to express his love for each person. He wanted to help anyone who ever needed him. He started to cry and the entire class came and embraced him. This is but a small slice of that two hours…and it certainly does it no justice.

I have never felt so privileged and humbled to be a witness to something.

And this, I think, is what I come to: maybe I am mostly importantly a witness. Maybe I'm not here to help any one individual, maybe I'm meant to be a voice, to share these stories… To cry out in anger how unjust this world can be for condemning these talented, loving, intelligent THUGs, simply because they were born here. To refuse to accept when people sit there and tell me that poverty is a result of laziness when these boys work so hard to get to college and everything in their life is stacked against them. When their parents or guardians work so hard to provide them with a quality education.

I never thought I'd save any lives…I just wanted to know their lives. And in the knowing, maybe I can help challenge others to see the reality that these boys live, simply because I was there to witness it.

A Mass for Peace

Today at Dolores Mission (the best and most life-giving parish church I've ever been to) there was a held a very special liturgy. DM is a parish in Boyle Heights, a community that has for many years dealt with violence. Today they held a liturgy in remembrance of those who have died as a result of gun violence. They had names projected at the front of the church. Several people in the assembly (too many) stood up and were invited to the altar to remember loved ones who have died because of gun violence. One parishioner shared his story of grieving for and coping with the death of his brother; the wounds may heal temporarily, but stories of other killings reopen them. It is a scar that will forever haunt him.

Father Scott gave a sermon about our country's addiction to violence (and that's what it is). He explained the need for a change in attitudes about guns because they so often find their ways into cities (and increasingly, suburbs) where so many are killed by guns annually around the country. This is so often forgotten: how common killings are. Sadly, it takes a string of deadly mass-shootings to bring this harrowing problem to light. Around 2009 research showed that more than 30,000 people are killed by firearms each year in this country; more than 30 shot and killed each day. 1/2 of them are between 18 and 35. Homicide is the second leading cause of death among 15-24 year-olds. These are the statistics that were read to us in mass. Additionally, Father Scott read this powerful letter to the editor he sent into  and was printed in the LA Times.

As the nation wrestles with the question of whether to ban assault weapons, people in our inner cities know a simple truth: There are too many guns on our streets, and this can be directly linked to the high numbers of homicides that are sadly a regular part of our lives.

This past summer there were four homicides within a span of 62 days within a square mile of Dolores Mission Parish, just a few miles east of downtown Los Angeles. Since 1980, when the Jesuits came to this parish, we have experienced the deaths of some 200 community members to gun violence.

Though not the only angle on the issue, I have to believe that if there were tighter gun control laws in our country, fewer guns would find themselves on the streets of our inner cities. And more of my parishioners would be alive.
The Rev. Scott Santarosa
Los Angeles

 I truly wish that so many people who claim that guns are not a problem could see this side of things. Yes, you live in the suburbs and in this wonderful world where the chances of violence are incredibly low, but there are so many--SO MANY--who are simply forced to live in areas where gun violence is rampant. They suffer threats of violence as simply a fact of life, and have to deal with the death of loved ones. And why? Because there are too many guns. Because they are minorities with low income. Hard working people, who simply have no other options. There is no reason for the most dangerous automatic weapons to be out there and so easy to access. There is no reason for it to be so EASY for guns to end up in the hands of those who would harm others.

Gun violence is not just the rare mass-shooting. It is a terrifying reality for people in low-income areas. For some of the students at Verbum Dei, for the parishioners of Dolores Mission. The children of Dolores Mission. One of my students for one of his college submission personal statements wrote about one day being mugged at gun point because he happened to be walking through a park that belonged to a gang that hated Mexicans. That isn't terribly uncommon in parts of this city and many others around the country.

I'm not going to bother rattling off statistics I actually did look up and research for this blog post. I don't want to be too political. But the fact is there are almost as many guns in this country as people. How that is OK with people I don't understand. How it is OK to suggest that to solve this country's violence problem we need MORE guns is horrifying.

Too many people are killed. We need a change in attitude in this country, a push for peace, not a push for more "self defense" that will, as many graphs, charts, statistics and surveys show, will most likely only increase the violence and cost more lives.

But hey, these killings aren't white kids en masse, so it isn't really happening, right?

Living in LA

It's never dark in LA. It reminds me of a conversation I had with my physics friend Matt. He talked about light pollution one night when we were driving around town and it was very humid and almost-fogging. The flood lights from a nearby park extended for miles--we could not place where this light was coming from, after all, it was never that bright. But the air was moist and the fog was beginning, and the light traveled.

The skyline towers within view most places I go. Their heights stretch upward, taking over the horizon. The light from these buildings stretch outward, flooding the night sky with their neon luminescence. The night is full of condensation from the warm afternoons. It doesn't rain here often but the difference in temperature brings with it foggy air. I'm sure the smog spreads the light as well. Last Friday as I drove in the humid air, because it actually rained for once, I drove down this street that has a clear view of the city skyline. There were spotlights dancing in the air and it looked like the sky was on fire. Clouds? Moisture? Fog? Smog? Maybe a mix of it all.

The smog. You need a car in LA to get around. Public transportation is unreliable, slow, and inconvenient. How can a city full of so many drivers be full of so many people who cannot drive?

Living in LA is bizarre. How can a city with the most millionaires also be the place of the most people who are homeless in this country? Contradictions. LA is contradictions. I drive down South Central Ave in Watts to get to work and drive past homelessness, intense poverty. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard, where the names of the famous and wealthy are at your feet, you are surrounded by people without a place to go home to.  Life here makes little sense. And on many occasions I find myself wondering if this is really my life right now, how I got here, and what this experience will teach me, what I will walk away from remembering. I don't think it will be seeing the Hollywood sign for the first time, or the time that I drove past Burbank. It will be the mornings I drive past the man off of the 105, asking for recyclables. The man in the wheelchair across the street panhandling. It will be the boys--the boy who told me that he was going to write about the period that he was homeless for his personal statement, the boy who bought a man outside the Chinese Food place dinner, the boy who never thought homelessness was anything but lack of motivation who chose to sleep outside in solidarity with them in order to learn more about the world. I'll remember the first time I saw Skid Row.

I'm sure the Los Angeles people will ask me about when I go home for Christmas is not the Los Angeles I have lived in. And I do not regret this fact. I would rather see this LA--the real LA before I put on my blinders and admire the famous handprints, the insanity of Venice Beach. This is the LA I was brought here to see, and to share with others.

Remembering the Women Martyrs

December 2, 1980, four women were kidnapped, raped, and murdered by agents of the El Salvadoran government in the midst of intense violence and war. These women did nothing but aid the poor, empower them, and bear witness to their suffering. These women were named Dorothy Kazel, Maura Clarke, Ita Ford, and Jean Donovan. The three LA JV houses (formerly four) were named after these women. This year I live in Casa Dorothy Kazel and after tonight, I am very proud. Their dedication to their mission is intense and inspiring, and invigorates my own call to service.

Tonight, Mount St. Mary College held a prayer service in honor of these sisters. It was coordinated by Sisters of St Joseph of Carondelet. Many Maryknoll Sisters (the order to which Maura Clarke and Ita Ford belonged) were present. This is the thirty second memorial service that they have held. Many women present knew the martyrs. To hear so many people inspired by, touched by, and empowered by their sacrifice and mission was moving.

Tonight I was proud to be serving this year, to be making some small sacrifice and to be living in the house I am. I felt tonight, in the presence of so many women religious (truly inspiring people), and in the spirit of these brave martyrs, that I was carrying on a rich legacy of truly amazing people. At least a little bit. I don't claim to be as dedicated, as strong, or brave as the women who died 32 years ago, and perhaps I never would be, but I am inspired by them, reinvigorated by them, and proud to be a member of Casa Dorothy Kazel.

And I found a few quotes from letters that these women wrote that inspire me and will continue to as this year goes forward.






"El Salvador, Savior of the World, is writhing in pain – a country that daily faces the loss of so many of its people – and yet a country that is waiting, hoping, yearning for peace. The steadfast faith and courage our leaders have to continue preaching the Word of the Lord, even though it may mean laying down your life in the very REAL sense, is always a point of admiration and a vivid realization that JESUS is HERE with us. Yes, we have a sense of waiting, hoping, and yearning for a complete realization of the Kingdom, and yet we know it will come because we can celebrate Him here right now.” Dorothy Kazel, OSU





"I see in this work a channel for awakening real concern for the victims of injustice in today's world, a means to work for change, and to share deep concern for the sufferings of the poor and marginated, the non-persons of our human family." Maura Clarke, MM





"Several times I have decided to leave El Salvador. I almost could except for the children, and poor bruised victims of this insanity. Who would care for them? Whose heart would be so staunch as to favor the reasonable thing in a sea of their tears and helplessness. Not mine, dear friend, not mine.” Jean Donovan





“Am I willing to suffer with these people here, the suffering of the powerless, the feeling impotent? Can I say to my neighbors, I have no solutions to this situation? I don’t have answers, but I will walk with you, search with you, be with you. Can I let myself be evangelized by this opportunity? Can I look at and accept my own poorness as I learn it from the poor ones?” Ita Ford, MM




The sisters (truly amazing people--and so happy to meet us and wished us well so warmly) gave this blessing to those present, and this too, inspired me.

May you continue to be a remarkable sign of the living God,

Fearlessly contend against evil,

make no peace with oppression,

strive to be a shining witness of reconciliation and friendship,

reach across boundaries and barriers

to form community with all people of good will.

And may God who has loved you without measure and without regret,

fill you with the blessings of Jesus Christ,

the refreshment of the Spirit, and the joyful unity of the triune God.

Sr. Clare Dunn

Sr. Judy Lovchik, CSJ

Giving thanks

It is the night before Thanksgiving and I am beginning to feel a little sad. I suppose it's natural--Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday not because I love turkey (but it helps) but because to me it has always been about the intentional sharing of time, breaking bread with people I care about. A chance to simply gather and be present to the people we love and be mindful of all of our wonderful gifts. Being away from home, I knew, would be tough on Thanksgiving, but I think I might be underestimating it if I feel it already today.

But even in that there is so much to be thankful for and to continue to be cognizant of.

I spent the last two evenings at Verbum Dei taking part in homeless awareness week. Campus Ministry organized a sleepout in solidarity and a number of students, as well as faculty and staff, slept out through the night with nothing but cardboard and sleeping bags on Verb's campus. It was a very enlightening experience, not so much for what I got out of it through sleeping outside (it wasn't that hard for me...I swear it's colder in  my house than it was these last two fairly mild nights--mid-50s isn't all that cold, as I'm sure all you eastcoasters will agree) but more because of what the students learned from it. I honestly didn't feel like there was all that much to the experience--yes we slept outdoors but before that they were playing on the computer, or messing around, or doing homework. But, I think the speakers we had struck them.

I am also trying to keep in mind how much more homelessness is part of their lives--the area they live in, the neighborhood Verbum Dei is located, are full of people without homes. And I was especially struck by how much they seemed to grow in understanding, and even that they were willing to take part in this week, given how exposed to it they are on such a common basis. I think at that age it would be a lot easier to just be creeped out or annoyed by it. But they went out of their way to try and understand those circumstances, which I think is incredibly cool and inspiring.

The boys reacted a lot to what we did and had great things to say in discussion--a lot of them recognized the difficult and diverse factors that could cause someone to become homeless. And if they didn't before a lot of them began to learn and change their perspective.

Some common themes: being thankful for what we have, changing the conversation about homelessness (not demeaning them with names, encouraging others to rethink their stereotypes), giving them attention in some way, even small ones, like a smile or a short exchange if not a full blown conversation, and simply not making snap judgments about how they got into that situation. Many of them had never considered how many possible ways or reasons there are for homelessness: natural disaster, domestic violence, mental illness, the general poor nature of the economy and job market, lack of affordable housing and so with all of those possible reasons many for the first time realized that it isn't necessarily a person's bad choices that leads them to the streets.

Many of the boys admitted to having certain assumptions--if not laziness, then drug abuse or even some kind of enjoyment out of being without a home--but through our speakers, a woman who was formerly homeless (who sadly, I missed), one of the boys' fathers who works at LAMP (a local shelter) and the discussions and experiences of other students and some of the staff, they started to see that many assumptions are simply stereotypes and are harmful.

One of the guys on the last night of reflection briefly shared his experience with homelessness; when he was in eighth grade his mother fled an abusive husband in the middle of the night. They spent several months at family's homes and traveling around in different places. He struggled with depression and weight gain, but luckily in the end they were able to get back onto their feet. His household still struggles a great deal with money, but he said he grew a great deal from the experience. And he's a smart kid, one of the top in the class. He has dreams of traveling to the east coast, specifically Washington DC and I think he can get just about anywhere he wants to go.

Another student shared a story about simply sharing a meal with a man who often sat outside of a Chinese restaurant he frequents.

The way these boys showed their openness to growth, their desire to learn, and a level of awareness of the great things in their life really inspired me. I was inspired even more by the stories the two aforementioned students shared.

There isn't a better time to do an event like this than Thanksgiving, when we take time out of our busy lives to assess and profess the blessings in our lives, and all of these events made me incredibly thankful to be here in LA this year.

I am thankful for this opportunity to take part in JVC. That I can voluntarily take a year out of my life and choose to live this way. That I have been granted a chance to share in the experience of these boys as they grow into men, and see through their eyes a world that I could never have experienced because of who I am. I am thankful for my housemates and extended community in LA who have provided me laughs and support these three months. I am thankful for my family for supporting me and loving me throughout my life. For being there for me to cry with. For taking care of me when I was ill so I could grow into who I am today. For a roof over my head. For having so many possible opportunities for next year and beyond.  I am thankful for Sara. For reminding me that I am a person worth investing in. For listening and accepting all of my insecurities, doubts, and imperfections. For being willing to go through the strain of a long distance relationship. For eight fantastic months. I am thankful for yet another year of continued health. I am thankful for all of my friends at home, from Cabrini. Though I have done an incredibly poor job of keeping in touch, you have all, each of you reading this, been amazing, beautiful, fantastic parts of my life, helped contribute positively to forming me into who I am, and I cannot convey enough how glad I am to have met so many amazing people! I am thankful for my education, and the fact that applying to college was so easy for me. I am thankful for today. I am thankful that I won't wake up tomorrow wondering what I might eat or where I might have to sleep.

I am thankful. So thankful.  Life is beautiful.