A Whole Lot of Less

I once went on a day trip to Atlanta with a nun from Tanzania who, upon leaving our house, slipped a handkerchief into her pocket. No purse, no handbag, no jacket or snack. Just a hankie.

That image stayed with me and later I wrote (and published) a story on the lessons of simplicity Sr. Gaudiosa taught me during her visits with us. (A Hankie for My Pocket)

Those lessons keep me mindful of too much, of clutter that has a way of taking over all aspects of life, everything from what is in our closets to how we schedule our free time.

It was in this mindset that I packed for our spring break trip this past April.  I wanted to keep things simple. Then, because I needed to provide drawer and closet space for our Masters guests, I squirreled away the rest—the clothes, shoes, and jewelry that weren't going with me—into storage boxes. Here is what I packed:

-enough clothes to mix and match outfits for nine days

-six accessories (Fitbit w/ interchangeable straps, a ring, a pair of earrings, a wrap bracelet, one scarf, one black backpack)

-beauty products (only the essentials, all packed into one small zippered bag)

That's it. I packed all these items into one medium sized suitcase and one tote.

For those 9 days of vacation I had what I needed; I had a choice of what to wear but was not burdened with too many selections. I wore a watch daily, added the wrap bracelet and ring in the evening, but didn't waste time pawing through my jewelry drawer. When it was chilly I wore a cardigan, when it got warmer I knotted it around my shoulders, and I carried the same backpack all week (sometimes packed with snacks for a hike, sometimes packed with just a wallet and iPhone).

I wanted for nothing, but had exactly what I needed. Not too much, not too little, but the blessing of just enough.

Interestingly, we have been home for three weeks and I still haven't pulled the rest of my clothes and jewelry out of storage. I'm sure at some point I will, but I don't even miss them.

Living with enough is more than plenty.

Good News in an Airport

As I am writing this, Joe is sitting at the Atlanta airport waiting for his flight to Augusta. He’s tired and eager to get home. Mike Rowe (from the show Dirty Jobs) is flying today, and I only know this because I follow him on Facebook and he posted a photo of himself at the airport along with a commentary about traveling while masked. This morning I read not one, but TWO, news reports of unruly passengers on planes. Yesterday there were three. Airports are crowded, flights are cancelled or rescheduled, and people are communicating through masks which promulgate frustrations and hide smiles.

But you know what? I refuse to believe that the only travel news is bad news. Because I know otherwise …

On one of Sister Gaudiosa’s visits with our family, she told us the story of her first time on an airplane when she left Tanzania to study here in the United States. Her flight involved a layover in Germany, and in the process of walking to her new gate she came across her first escalator. Ever.

She was terrified. Stairs that move? She stood to the side, studying it. She approached it, lost her nerve, and backed away again. She didn't know what to do.

Then she heard a voice ask, "Sister? Do you need help?"

It was a German student, male, in his mid-twenties. When he realized what the problem was, he picked up her bag and took her by the arm. "Not to worry, Sister. I will help you."

And he did. All the way down the escalator, all the way to her gate.

After spending a week with us, we drove Sister to the airport. She was flying to Missouri and had packed two very heavy suitcases. When we helped her check in, the agent said there would be an extra fee since both suitcases were overweight. It was a pretty hefty fine.

I looked at the agent and said, "Everything she owns in this world is packed in these two suitcases." And I knew what I was talking about because I had helped her pack them. Inside were her habits made from thick, blue material, her black shoes, a winter coat, and study materials.

The agent didn't say anything, so my husband took out his wallet to pay the fine.

Except there wasn't one. When the agent took the suitcases he said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Have a safe flight, Sister." And he smiled.

Later that evening Sister called to say she had arrived safely. She then told us what happened to her at the gate: a middle-aged man saw her blue habit and struck up a conversation with her. He said that he had attended Catholic schools all his life and had fond memories of the nuns who taught him. Would she allow him to buy her lunch?

And so he did. It was a modest meal—a hotdog and a drink—but two strangers, a businessman and a nun from Tanzania, shared a meal together.

In an airport.

Where good things can—and do!—happen.

A Hankie for My Pocket

Speak to Me Sunday: Connecting the Dots

This is a story about Tanzania, Georgia, Texas, North Dakota, and Kenya; it's a story about connecting the dots.

Several years ago an African priest visiting our area asked our family if we would welcome into our home a nun from Tanzania who was studying in New Jersey and needed some place to go during spring break. We wholeheartedly agreed, and soon Sr. Gaudiosa arrived wearing her blue habit, speaking broken English, but flashing a smile which drew everyone to her.

Since then she has been here four times, even spending two Christmas vacations with us. We've taken her to the movies (she loved Hairspray and The Lion King), we've gone bowling (she bowled a strike on her very first try), we've traveled (to the World of Coca-Cola in Atlanta and the state museums in Columbia), and once, after a visit to the planetarium, we returned home and used flashlights and rubber balls to explain the workings of the Solar System.

We are blessed from knowing her. Just being in her presence makes us kinder and gentler.

From Tanzania to Augusta, GA ... we both still marvel at that.

After her last visit sister went to study at Our Lady of the Lake Catholic University in San Antonio, TX where she was working on a Master's Degree in Social Work. We stayed connected via email and the occasional phone call.

In the meantime, I had been writing on two fronts. Personally, I wrote some "sister stories" both here and through various presentations I did at a Women's Bible Study (one of those stories was even published in Canticle Magazine). Professionally, I was working for a Catholic Company and writing articles for parish newsletters. The articles involved interviewing people from all over the United States.

One day I received an assignment to write an article on a couple from Bismarck, ND who would be spending three months that summer serving as missionaries in Kenya. I spoke with the couple for a long time. They explained their work in Africa, and when they mentioned they had met with some African nuns to get a crash course on language and culture I mentioned our family's connection to Africa by way of a nun from Tanzania.

There was a pause on the phone. Then, "Is your nun by chance studying in Texas?" they asked.

"Uhm ... yes! In San Antonio. Her name is Sr. Gaudiosa," I replied.

"We know her!" they exclaimed. "We went to San Antonio for discernment training and met with several sisters from Africa who shared some insights with us. Sr. Gaudiosa sang and danced for us! She taught us some words in Swahili!"

I was overcome with emotion. Sister has sung and danced for us many times, too. She taught us how to say jambo (hello) and asante sana (thank you). When she visited our boys' school, she taught the class the Our Father in Swahili.

But more than anything, I was humbled how God, in creating this vast, beautiful world, can still make it seem small and connected.

Tanzania, Georgia, Texas, North Dakota, Kenya.

Connecting the dots.

For more sister stories ...

Upon Simplifying Christmas
One Good Deed a Day: A Helping Hand
One Good Deed a Day: Those in Authority
Our Very Own Christmas Miracle
Asante Sana, Sister
A Hankie for My Pocket

Visiting Timothy's Kindergarten class

Sister dancing and singing for us

Visiting the Augusta Museum of History

Sister, Joe, and the boys

A Whole Lot of Less

I once went on a day trip to Atlanta with a nun from Tanzania who, upon leaving our house, slipped a handkerchief into her pocket. No purse, no handbag, no jacket or snack. Just a hankie.


That image stayed with me and later I wrote (and published) a story on the lessons of simplicity she taught me during her visits with us. (A Hankie for My Pocket)


Those lessons keep me mindful of too much, of clutter that has a way of taking over all aspects of life -- everything from what is in our closets to how we schedule our free time.


It was in this mindset that I packed for our spring break trip to Florida, a 9-day trip in which I wanted to keep things simple. Then, because I needed to provide drawer and closet space for our Masters guests, I squirreled away the rest into storage boxes -- the clothes, shoes, and jewelry that weren't going with me. Here is what I packed:

clothing

mix and match outfits for nine days
(two pairs of leggings, two maxi dresses, tank tops, one button down shirt, workout clothes)

bathing suit and cover-up

four pairs of shoes

accessories

Fitbit Blaze with interchangeable straps (black and brown)

a ring

a pair of earrings

a wrap bracelet

a scarf

one reversible tote

beauty products

only the essentials, packed into one small zippered bag

That's it. I packed all these items into one medium sized suitcase and one tote.


For those 9 days of vacation I had what I needed. I had a choice of what to wear, but wasn't debilitated with too many selections. I wore a watch daily, added the wrap bracelet and ring in the evening, but didn't waste time pawing through my jewelry drawer. When it was chilly I wore a cardigan, when it got warmer I knotted it around my shoulders, and I carried the same tote all week (sometimes brown, sometimes reversing it to black).


I wanted for nothing, but had exactly what I needed. Not too much, not too little, but the blessing of just enough.


Interestingly, we have been home for 2 1/2 weeks and I still haven't pulled my clothes and jewelry out of storage. I'm sure at some point I will, but I don't even miss them.


Living with enough is plenty.

7 quick takes: a late night, a bad poem and a George Bailey moment

1. Last Saturday: Went to the 6:40 p.m. showing of Water for Elephants and didn't get home until almost midnight. What can I say? Good movie + Applebee's afterwards + six good friends = a serious loss of time

2. Last Sunday: Dinner at Nonna & Nonno's. Sigh. I like when my Mom cooks for me.

3. This past Monday: A George Bailey moment occurred. A woman from the Women's Bible Study I am involved in approached me and, without saying a word, opened her purse and showed my a white hankie folded into a neat square. She had seen my presentation earlier this year in which I had read my article A Hankie for my Pocket (published in the July/August 2010 issue of Canticle Magazine). She said that she now carries that handkerchief as a reminder to keep life simple. She then thanked me for inspiring her ... and I don't even know her name.

4. This past Tuesday: Purchased a plant from Home Depot with peppers, basil, and various other spices. I bought the plant for the basil, but I'm excited about using everything else.

5. This past Wednesday: Hiked 7 miles with a good friend.

6. Yesterday: Shared the following prayer for the last meeting of our Women's Bible Study Group.

In the beginning we gathered to study anew
some lessons from Genesis and from each other, too.
It didn't take long for us all to find out
what those old Patriarchs were all about.

Days of our Lives ... Old Testament style
Murders? Deception? Well, no wonder The Exile.
But we studied The Word and discussed Catholic issues,
And stocked our rooms with boxes of tissues.

For discoveries were made of God's great plan
that started way back when the world just began.
From Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob we learned
how to listen, pray, worship and discern.

So God we gather once more on this day
and hope you'll continue to show us the way.
Give us the grace and the wisdom to see
That wherever you are is where we should be.
~from Bia's files of very bad poetry

7. Today: Off to buy a first communion gift for nephew #2; birthday gifts for nephews #1, #2, #3; a birthday gift for my sister; and a birthday gift for my brother-in-law. Again, what can I say? My sister's ENTIRE family has a birthday this month, and since we're going up for a First Communion ... heck, we'll have one huge celebration.


~for more fun quick takes, visit Jen at Conversion Diary. Today she provided the instructions for a "crazy-powerful water bottle rocket launcher", which my boys are going to LOVE!

A Hankie for My Pocket

A Hankie for My Pocket

by Maria Novajosky

*published in the July/August issue of Canticle Magazine, 2009

For one week this past summer our family had a nun from Tanzania stay with us in our home. To prepare for her visit I cleaned, made lists, and lectured my three sons on the importance of table manners (elbows off the table) and good behavior (no arguing, no name calling). I was nothing if not organized. What I wasn’t prepared for was what she would teach me.


Once Sister Gaudiosa arrived, it didn’t take long for everyone to be drawn to her enthusiasm and zest for life. She visited our sons’ school and taught the class the “Our Father” in Swahili. She watched football with my husband, giggling when he got too technical in his explanations. She often sat down on the floor and had lengthy conversations with our toddler (no language barriers between those two).


As the week progressed, I stopped consulting my lists and started enjoying just being with her. We were two women from completely different countries, with different callings in life, and yet we had marvelous heart-to-heart conversations. I loved how she spent an hour ironing her veils, how she danced for us when we found some Tanzanian music on the internet, how she always had one helping at the dinner table and never, ever had seconds, and I loved how she laughed with complete abandonment when I took her to see “Hairspray” at the movie theater.


One day we decided to take her on a day trip to Atlanta. That morning I rushed around gathering maps, coupons, and our itinerary. It was cloudy, so I found some umbrellas. I pulled out my biggest purse and packed it with necessities:  wallet, makeup, sunglasses, eyeglasses, camera, snacks for the boys . . . by the time I was done my purse must have weighed twenty-five pounds.


And Sister? As we headed out the door she quietly slipped a hankie into her pocket.


On the way to Atlanta, as I thought about that hankie and compared it to my stuffed handbag, I recognized the freedom that can be found in simplicity. It took almost the entire week, but spending time with Sister helped me see simplicity as a gift, a peace of mind and heart uncluttered by the craziness of our lives. Sometimes all we simply have to do is decide we want it.


Now, I am not naive. I have three sons, one of whom is a toddler, and I do need my purse. But I am learning to make things less complicated and to recognize the beauty of God’s gift of simplicity. A walk in the woods, a child’s laughter, a rainy afternoon, or a meal with a neighbor are simple things that say more about the gift of life than all the running around we do to live it. So now, when I leave home my purse no longer weighs twenty-five pounds . . . it’s down to fifteen.


And I always, always slip a hankie into my pocket.