Author: khauver

This past summer, Holy Cross alumna, Maria Palacios ’15 was invited to join a group of Catholic Charities volunteers to assist families at the U.S./Mexico border to assist in the reunification of parents who had been separated from their children when entering the U.S. to seek asylum . Maria was invited to participate because of her fluency in Spanish, her experience with immigration legal work, and because of her post-graduate service experience in the AMA program in Chaparral, New Mexico.  The AMA program is a post-graduate service program that assists in the work of the Assumption Sisters in the U.S. and abroad. The work includes teaching, youth ministry, community development, ministry to migrants and advocacy.  Maria first became involved with the Assumption Sisters through a CBL course, “Filmmaking in Spanish.” Maria was a part of a film crew that created a film for the Assumption Sisters about the programs they offer in the Worcester community.  Maria then decided to volunteer with the Assumption Sisters’ post-graduate year of service program where she was placed in Chaparral, New Mexico.  In the most recent version of the AMA newsletter, Maria wrote about her most recent experience at the border. Read her post below to see how CBL can be the doorway into professional opportunities!

Maria Palacios, AMA Alum Chaparral 2015-16 , “Reflections from the Border”

As the crisis of family separation at the Border worsened every day, I felt helpless as I watched the news and read articles of the horrible conditions the families were going through. I could not believe that this was happening in this country and in this time. Never would I have imagined that I would witness firsthand the pain, the sadness, but above all, the faith of these families seeking refuge.

My journey began when Sister Norma Pimentel from Catholic Charities of the Rio Grande Valley put out a call requesting deployed Catholic Charities professionals to provide support to her team at the Border. As the government scrambled to meet the Family Reunification deadline at the end of July, the Catholic Charities Respite Center in McAllen, Texas saw itself overflowing with families that had just been reunited and needed immediate assistance. And so when my supervisor at Catholic Charities of Fairfield County asked if I wanted to join Sister Norma’s mission at the Border, without hesitation I answered “yes.” I was not thinking of the danger or the obvious trauma that I would endure, but rather my desire to contribute some assistance to the families. I was selected from my agency because I speak fluent Spanish, I have experience in immigration legal work, and most of all, because of my Border experience as an AMA in Chaparral, NM.

To say that my nine day journey was overwhelming is an understatement. From my arrival on July 24th to my departure on August 1st, the work never stopped. Each day we assisted over 200 different families that had just been released from ICE custody. The days were very fast moving from assisting clients with organizing their ICE documents for their upcoming court dates, making travel arrangements to get to their families in other parts of the country, to giving them a clean set of clothes, food and most important, a listening ear. As one of the only fluent Spanish speaker volunteers, I found there was always a line of people waiting to ask me questions. Though this was overwhelming at times, it gave me the opportunity to connect with the families. It showed that they felt comfortable enough to approach me and ask me questions and wanted to tell me their story. Most of the families were from Central America and embarked on the long journey from their home country to McAllen TX escaping the obscene gang violence in their countries, never expecting the harsh conditions that would welcome them in the ”Land of the Free.”

Most parents had spent between two to four months separated from their children. Parents were placed in one detention center near the Border, while their children were dispersed throughout the nation. With tears in her eyes, one mother from Honduras described to me how Border Patrol officers ripped her daughter away from her arms. She was able to describe to me that day in such detail since she had relived that exact moment in her head every day until she was reunited with her daughter. She didn’t want to stay in this country anymore; she just wanted her daughter back. As I worked with the parents in filing change of venue and address forms for their court date, their children waited anxiously next to them. Though the lines were long, the children held their parent’s hands and stood in line with them for hours.  They did not want to leave their sight. As they waited in line, some children would recite the Pledge of Allegiance while others would point at different items and say the color in English.

It has been just about four months since my experience at the Respite Center in McAllen Texas and reflecting back on it today is a little bittersweet. I miss reading with the children and playing soccer in the 103 degree weather, and to those that know about my experience in Chaparral, the heat was the only thing I didn’t enjoy (besides toritos.) I tried to bring some joy to the children at the Center because I could only imagine the trauma they encountered at the detention centers when a simple peanut butter cracker would trigger them to retreat. During my year in Chaparral, I missed my mom tremendously but spoke to her over the phone almost every day, which made missing her more bearable. If I in my mid-20s missed my mom so much, knowing I would see her again and could talk to her on the phone, my heart breaks to think that these children went to bed every night not knowing if they would ever see their moms and dads again. I spent my mom’s birthday in McAllen and even though I was sad I couldn’t be there with her to celebrate, I could not think of a better way to honor my mother than to be helping these families.

The families were all extremely grateful for the work we were doing; never in my life have I been blessed so many times by so many people! I don’t remember most of their names, but if I close my eyes, I can picture all their faces. My work there not only helped me grow professionally but I think it showed me that when you let God guide your work, even if your body and mind are tired, God will keep you going. I am so happy that I was able to be part of such a beautiful mission to provide some positivity to all the refugee families that I encountered during my time there but also saddened that this chaos has not ended. My hope is restored by the commitment of so many to lend a hand in this time of need, especially by the Sisters in Chaparral; as well as by all the Catholic Charities volunteers, by the thousands of donations received from every corner of the country and by the community of McAllen that didn’t let hate separate them from strangers. We welcome the stranger because at some point we have all been strangers.

During my time in McAllen, I tried to keep a journal for the Catholic Charities website. If you would like to read some of those entries please visit, https://www.ccfairfield.org/journal-entry-maria-palacios/.

Note: this article was originally published by “A Contest of Ideas” on 11/20/18.

CBL Student, Courtney Esteves ’19 has been published in “A Contest of Ideas.” Her article, “Understanding the ‘with’ in ‘for and with others,'” discusses the importance of mutuality in service and immersion experiences, two concepts necessary for rich, meaningful, and truly reciprocal CBL projects and placements to occur. Courtney has taken numerous CBL courses including her Montserrat course, “Identity, Diversity, and Community,” Spanish 301, “Liberation Theology,” “Social Ethics,” and “Social Justice in Context.” Courtney also spent the second semester of her junior year abroad in Argentina through the CASA program, which is rooted in Ignatian ideals and includes a praxis component. See below and navigate to the “A Contest of Ideas” webpage to read her article.

Most individuals with any affiliation to a Jesuit institution recognize the call to be people “for and with others” as a foundational part of Jesuit education. Yet few people our age are able to trace the history of this phrase back to an address given by Fr. Pedro Arrupe, S.J., the former Superior General of the Jesuits, to the Tenth International Congress of Jesuit Alumni of Europe in Valencia, Spain, on July 31, 1973. In his historic address, Fr. Arrupe’s fervent call to action was marked by an insistence on change within and beyond Jesuit institutions. Although Fr. Arrupe used the phrase “men for others” since he delivered his address at an all-male institution, the language of his address has since been edited to reflect a more gender-inclusive message. Thus, co-educational Jesuit institutions have replaced “men for others” with phrases such as “men and women for others.” In a similar vein, and in order to move beyond gendered language to include all members of our community, I will use “people” in place of “men and women.”

The modifications that colleges and universities have made to Fr. Arrupe’s phrase extend beyond gender inclusion, though. Some institutions, including the College of the Holy Cross, have added the word “with” to Fr. Arrupe’s phrase as well, calling us to be people for and with others. Although all 28 members of the Association of Jesuit Colleges and Universities have some variation of the Arrupe-inspired phrase as a central part of their philosophy and mission, only 12 of the 28 institutions explicitly convey the importance of being “with” others in their language surrounding this phrase.

Thus, the inclusion of “with” is not merely an addition of a common preposition. It is rather an intentional invitation to move beyond a service-only mindset and to consider how to exhibit a radical presence and a profound sense of solidarity with others. An Australian artist, activist, and academic named Lilla Watson wrote, “If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time, but if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” Watson’s insight is a critical bridge between traditional service (“for”) and interpersonal engagement (“with”). So what does being “with” others in this mutuality entail? Additionally, why is is important that we include this word in our Holy Cross mission?

I propose that at the heart of being “with” others is a willingness—an eagerness, even— to “enter into the chaos of another,” as Fr. James F. Keenan, S.J. writes. I would argue that, as Jesuit-educated students, we have the responsibility to “enter into the chaos” of everyone, from a seemingly overwhelmed student whom we get to know through a Holy Cross seminar to an individual experiencing homelessness whom we get to know through community engagement in Worcester or an immersion trip. Moreover, we are also called to “enter into the chaos” of everyone in between.

Alongside “entering into the chaos” of others is reflecting on their experiences in a manner that propels future action and engagement. A critical element of Jesuit education is the “well educated solidarity” that can come from learning both within and beyond the walls of a classroom. Fr. Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, S.J., former Superior General of the Society of Jesus, described the goal of Jesuit education in the following way:

When the heart is touched by direct experience, the mind may be challenged to change. Personal involvement with innocent suffering, with the injustice others suffer, is the catalyst for solidarity, which then gives rise to intellectual inquiry and moral reflection.  Students, in the course of their formation, must let the gritty reality of this world into their lives, so they can learn to feel it, think about it critically, respond to its suffering, and engage it constructively.

These five elements of direct experience—a challenge to change one’s mind, personal involvement with injustices, solidarity, intellectual inquiry, and moral reflection—are ones that can undoubtedly come from interactions with all fellow members of our college community. Yet, these elements come alive in a direct way when students are exposed to the “gritty reality of this world” in marginalized and impoverished communities beyond the Hill. For example, coming into contact with marginalization and injustice in a way that permeates one’s very being can be a catalyst for the critical thinking, genuine responses, and constructive engagement that Fr. Kolvenbach pushes for. Not only is it a privilege to be welcomed into spaces that can allow for this type of formation, but it is also a responsibility to respond wholeheartedly to this call to be people “with others.”  

My firm belief in the aforementioned call made by Fr. Kolvenbach is grounded in my own personal experiences of accompanying others, which have been made possible throughout my formation as a Holy Cross student. For example, I spent last semester in Córdoba, Argentina engaging in an immersive study abroad experience called CASA de la Mateada, a program rooted in the Ignatian tradition and founded on the pillars of community, accompaniment, spirituality, and academics. During my time in Córdoba, I lived in community with students from other Catholic (predominantly Jesuit) institutions in which we enjoyed and were challenged by experiences of accompanying one another and those we met at the margins of Argentine society. We also spent our time sharing in spaces centered around spiritual exploration and taking courses centered around themes of social justice. Although several experiences have shaped my coming to understand the “with” in “for and with others,” I would like to share one in particular. There was a week of many sequential days of thunderstorms in Córdoba, during which I witnessed and experienced first-hand the devastating effects of thunderstorms in a way that I had not previously. I saw flooded streets with cars stuck, water creeping in under doors, soaked mattresses, clothes left out to “dry,” and containers strewn about in an effort to catch water leaking in. For me, thunderstorms have always been, at best, an excuse to stay inside with a good book and hot tea while listening to the sounds of the storm, and, at worst, a minor inconvenience. For the people I grew to know and love in Nuestro Hogar III, an impoverished area on the outskirts of the city in which I spent two days a week, these storms affected their entire day and had lasting impacts. For example, it was heart-wrenching to sit there on a Tuesday afternoon with six-year old Lara as she cried about not being able to go to school that day because the woman who normally drives her could not get her car out of the flooded street. It was upsetting to walk through their house with Lara’s mother Yiya and see the extreme water damage all around. Yet, I also stood in awe of how, in the face of this damage, they thanked God for having a stable roof when so many others did not. The following day, at the adult literacy center where I helped teach English, it was painful to see the empty seats where Isa and Sara normally sat and to hear from their teacher Adriana that they could not attend class because their children were sick after being exposed to the storm. Although my emotions varied from week to week during my time abroad, this week was a particularly upsetting one.

As I sat with those unsettled feelings that week, I also continued to think about questions swirling around my head. Why am I able to enjoy any more security and stability than these individuals do? How do families who have even less than my friends in Nuestro Hogar III cope with storms? At night, as I lay in my warm bed, I could not help but wonder if Yiya’s family, along with countless other families, would be able to sleep that night. Were their beds too soaked to lie on? Were the pouring rain and thunder keeping them up? Were they too worried and anxious about the damage to their home to fall asleep? As I considered these questions, I also wondered—what are the questions that I cannot even think to ask? I felt so far removed from their reality that I questioned whether my questions were even valid themselves. I can only imagine that the concerns at the top of their minds are ones that would never even cross mine…

Continue reading in “A Contest of Ideas.”

Living and Learning in Community

Throughout this past year I’ve learned a lot about what it means to live and learn in community. From Casa de la Mateada to Community-Based Learning, I have been both challenged and embraced by a sense of community and what it means to live and learn alongside the ‘other’. Last semester I was abroad in Córdoba, Argentina, with the Casa de la Mateada program. Casa’s main goal is to foster community building with the other students you are living with, and with the people of Córdoba, specifically those at the various praxis sites in the city. My site was called La Luciérnaga, where young adults from the streets are given the opportunity to sell magazines and are offered various support services. Finding common ground with many of these young people was challenging in the best way, and forced me to confront aspects of my own life through a new lens. I come back from Córdoba with new friendships and gratitude to have been part of a community that extends so much farther than my own Casa experience.

CBL is very similar to Casa in the sense that it promotes community building both on campus and within the Worcester community. We are encouraged to learn from each other as CBL Interns, as well as to educate ourselves on the wider world by working with community partners in Worcester. Since my first year at Holy Cross I have volunteered with Ascentria Care Alliance with the Unaccompanied Refugee Minors Program. This opportunity has broken down my single story of what it means to be a refugee and also has taught me the value of learning through lived experience.

Creating a sense of community that transcends societal barriers and individual backgrounds is not always easy. However, it is through these relationships and shared moments that we are able to find a sense of belonging to each other and to the human experience. Mother Teresa once said that “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” I reference this quote to say that it is so easy to get caught up in our own reality and to forget about the world beyond us and our responsibility to those that face injustice and suffering. We so often forget to look past ourselves and to remember that we hold the power to go outside of our comfort zones to greet the ‘other’ and build relationship with that person.

I am so thankful to CBL and to Casa for having given me the opportunity to do just that. To learn beyond the classroom, beyond my peers and teachers, beyond my native language, and beyond my own life experience—to forge bonds and communities with people of various backgrounds and perspectives. I am a better person because of these opportunities and I have a greater sense of myself for realizing that my responsibility to the world is really my responsibility to the people around me, no matter where I situate myself in the world.

When I was a first-year student at Holy Cross, I took a Montserrat course that had a CBL component. For my CBL, I decided to serve at a high school program called Positive Directions at South Community High School. At this site, I had the opportunity to serve first-year high school students with their academics and also serve them as a friend or mentor. During the year, I was able to connect with the students since both the students and I were going through important phases in our lives where we were transitioning into a foreign place. Serving at Positive Directions allowed me to feel like I was giving back to my community because as a first-generation college student, I know how difficult it can be at times to believe that you can achieve your academic aspirations, and sometimes you need someone whom you can look up to. When I was in high school, I was part of a program called AVID, which serves first-generation college students. If it weren’t for the volunteers that came into the classroom to tutor and mentor me, I feel I wouldn’t be in the position that I am in now. Thanks to their mentorship, I had someone I looked up to, and, on top of that, I had someone who believed in me. Those emotions that I felt as a freshman in high school is what I hope I can radiate to my students when I go to my CBL site. Now as a sophomore on the hill, I continue to work with Positive Directions and it has been an amazing journey to meet new students who have joined the after-school program and continue working with the students who I also worked with last year. Observing their progress and interest in school is what makes my service worthwhile and makes me feel like I have a purpose in my community that I am residing in.

This guest blog features Holy Cross alumna, Theresa Becchi ’10. Theresa recently wrote an article for the Holy Cross Magazine about her experience in the Peace Corps. Theresa served as a panelist on the post-graduate year of service panel for the 2018 Non-Profit Careers Conference where she also shared about her Peace Corps experience. Below are her reflections.

A year ago, I sat in a prison yard under the corrugated metal roofing of a makeshift shelter, surrounded by women who had trafficked drugs, trafficked humans, killed their husbands or killed a child. We laughed, cried and sang, squinting in the blazing sun, a welcomed breeze rumpling our dirty hair. I had entered the prison thinking of them as strangers, and I left knowing them as friends.

From 2015 to 2017, I served as a Peace Corps volunteer in the island nation of Timor Leste (East Timor) in Southeast Asia. I worked with female prisoners at one of the only two national prisons on the island with a Timorese Non-Governmental Organization that provides services to people experiencing trauma, mental illness and other psychosocial problems. For two years, I went to the prison several days a week to support the creation of a female prisoner-led sewing cooperative, teach income-generating activities like making jam and facilitate weekly yoga classes.

Before Timor, I had never set foot in a prison. I had, admittedly, found it easier to look at people who were in prison simplistically: They did something wrong, they were bad people and they deserved to be there. But over the course of two years, I got to know these women as more than just prisoners. They were women struggling to move forward, struggling with regret, trying to accept what they had done, come to terms with the situation in which they found themselves and find a support system among their fellow inmates. They were women who were feeling such strong despair and remorse, aching for their daughters, sons, mothers and fathers, for forgiveness, for the feel of the ocean current and the taste of fresh corn stew. They longed for the hole in their hearts to be filled, hoping and praying that they could do better, and waiting, constantly waiting, for the day they would walk out the prison gates into a world of redemption.

During my Peace Corps service I often struggled with the feeling that I was in my own prison; I also ached for family, friends and the familiarity of home. I struggled with loneliness and frustration and I, too, was waiting for my two-year commitment to come to an end.

In spending time with these women, who were capable of committing intense transgressions, I learned that they were also capable of intense courage, faith, love, generosity and hope. They helped me through my years of service. They brought me joy and gave me courage. I shared real laughs with them as they learned to do downward dog, watched as they giddily tasted homemade peanut butter for the first time and saw them organize and lead the formation of a small business. I also bore witness to their struggle with their regrets, pain and boredom. Every day they worked to find forgiveness and hope — through prayer, song, jokes, teasing, volleyball games, sewing, hugs and tears. They dug deep to find it. They kept going. Over the course of my time with them, it became impossible for me to view them as anything but good people. Rather, I came to know and understand them as the complicated, intricate, profound humans we all are, worthy of respect, dignity and, above all, love.

Joining the Peace Corps was likely an inevitability for me — my sister (a fellow Holy Cross alumna) served, her now-husband served and my mother served. I came to the Peace Corps later than the typical volunteer, having joined several years after undergrad. After graduating from Holy Cross, I worked on political campaigns in Connecticut and Virginia, and then took a job at a social policy think tank. After a few years, a nagging whisper, which had been dormant, returned, and I applied to the Peace Corps knowing, finally, it was the right step for me.

Sargent Shriver, the first director of the Peace Corps, said, “Serve, serve, serve, because in the end, it will be the servants who save us all.” This quote reminds me of the Holy Cross mission of “men and women for others.” Holy Cross teaches us that in our own lives, in our own neighborhoods, in our own families, we are all capable of serving others. Service is not done because it looks good on Instagram or on a resume, but because it is truly in giving that we receive. When we take the time to set our egos and ourselves aside and seek to recognize ourselves in others — even those who on the surface seem the most foreign and unrecognizable — we will gain the clarity we have often been missing. I think of my friends at the prison, and as I remember their isolation and fear, I remember my own. I remember their ability to hope and forgive — to forgive themselves and others who did them wrong — and it is from them I learned how to try to do the same. When we serve others, we are reminded of the dichotomy within each of us: We are capable of great misdeeds, but we are also capable of doing great good.

This world isn’t easy; it is a tough place and people do bad things. These days, especially, it is easy to feel frustrated, deflated and angry. Often, the only control we have is choosing how to respond to the reality of a situation. Holy Cross and the Peace Corps encouraged me to look others in the eye and say, “I am with you,” and not shy away from the discomfort and awkwardness of difference.

When we choose to serve, when we see others’ vulnerability and reveal our own, we empower others and our own selves to become agents for good and peace in this tumultuous world. We are changemakers, but we do not become that way alone. We are made stronger, better and more capable through service to others. The choice to serve is rarely easy; it requires constant effort and recommitment. But through service, we are exposed to an indelible, irrefutable truth: That although we exist as creatures of duality and our internal currents ebb and flow from good to bad, it is the greater, more profound good that longs to rise and break at the surface. Service to others allows for that release in our own selves and in one another.

Holy Cross magazine post here. 

For the past two years, I have experienced the challenges of getting back into the swing of things at college like countless other students across the country.  Adjusting to the 2:00 am bedtimes because of an organic chemistry exam, getting your own groceries, or just the general hustle of Mount St. James in the Fall takes some getting used to compared to the relative ease of summer life.  With this season of change, it is always nice to have some form of continuity.  In addition to seeing all of my great friends and professors, it is nice to see some form of continuity past the Linden Lane gates of the College.  For me, this continuity is easy to see through my experiences at the St. Mary Center.  Going in for the first day, I always feel as if I haven’t missed a day.  The same residents sitting in the same spots, playing with the same puzzles, reading the same papers, or talking to the same friends.  When I walk in, there are some residents who remember me and are excited to hear about my stories aboard “the Navy boats” and if I got to see any interesting sights like pods of dolphins (I got to see several different pods!).  We go back and forth talking about our summer experiences and pick up right where we left off in our conversations.  Having this continuity always brings a calming aspect to my life, and I am forever grateful for those at St. Mary and Holy Cross that allow these meaningful relationships to form.

CBL Intern Kara Cuzzone ’19 was selected to deliver the senior address at Convocation for the class of 2022. In her speech, Kara highlighted how her experience with CBL her first year and her experience as a CBL Intern her sophomore and junior years were ones where she felt as though she could be vulnerable and could “show up and be seen.” This vulnerability led Kara to grow and develop personally and academically, as she was able to find community both at her CBL site (St. Mary) and in the CBL Intern community. Read Kara’s speech below to learn more about her experience as in CBL and as a CBL Intern and to read her advice to the incoming first-year class.

If you had told me three years ago that I, Kara Cuzzone, would be up here giving the First-year Convocation address, I would have laughed in your face. To be honest, I don’t remember exactly what was running through my mind during my first-year convocation as I sat in my pew, sardined between my future classmates. But I definitely wasn’t picturing myself at this podium. I think it was something more along the lines of “what am I even doing here?

I’m sure some of you can relate. Some are already a little homesick. Others are excited, your time has finally arrived after counting down the days until move-in day. No matter what you’re feeling, take a deep breath and know that it’s going to be ok.

It’s ironic that I’m standing up here because after my first year at Holy Cross, I wanted to transfer. And I almost did. I even put down a deposit at another school. But something kept me here on the hill. That something is community. It just took me a little while to find it. 

Maybe this is obvious to some of you, but community doesn’t just appear. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I kind of thought it would. I imagined myself showing up on campus, and instantly finding welcoming, life-long friends without any effort on my part. Unsurprisingly, that didn’t happen. Instead, I learned that in order to find community, you have to be vulnerable. And as author and famous TED talk speaker Brené Brown says, that means “showing up and being seen.” Basically first-year Kara’s worst nightmare.

During my first semester at HC, I didn’t feel like myself. I had begun experiencing symptoms of depression and anxiety, which were totally new to me. This wasn’t necessarily because of Holy Cross. I hadn’t felt ready to go to college in general—in fact I’d simply respond ‘don’t talk about it’ whenever my parents brought it up the summer before. So when I arrived, it felt a little like I’d been thrown in the deep end of the pool without warning. As a result, I saw most things at Holy Cross through a pretty pessimistic lens. But through times where I opened up and made myself vulnerable, that began to change and I began to build a community.

The first time I tried the whole vulnerability thing was with my Montserrat Professor, Virginia Ryan. One day, out of sheer desperation, I opened up to her about the fact that I was struggling. Not only was she empathetic, but she confessed that she too suffers from anxiety, and that she went through something similar at my age. Since then, I have cried many tears in her office, and I now consider her not only a mentor, but one of my good friends. Seriously, we text, and she even sends me Bitmojis. Being vulnerable with Professor Ryan, and her willingness to be vulnerable in return, was my first encounter with the power of community at Holy Cross.

A few months later, I chose to be a little vulnerable again by going on an Immersion trip instead of going home for spring break. A family friend who was a senior had suggested it. She said the trip which students call Appa, short for Appalachia, was one of the best experiences she’d had at Holy Cross. So I went. I found myself in rural Ivanhoe, Virginia, meeting residents, doing yard work, and laughing until my sides hurt with nine people who became some of my best friends on campus. But that only happened because I allowed myself to be vulnerable. During our evening reflection one night, my leader Jane led the way by sharing something deeply personal with us. In turn, I was moved to share that I was going through a difficult time. She immediately grabbed my hand, and cried with me. As we stayed up talking, cocooned in our sleeping bags on the hardwood floor of a firehouse, my Appa family deepened my faith in the community that can be found here on the hill.

Finding community through being vulnerable became even more apparent to me during my sophomore year when I became a Community-Based Learning, or CBL, intern. My motivation for applying for the position came from a desire to continue to experience the deep connections I had started to find through allowing myself to show up and be seen. For my Montserrat course, I had been regularly visiting a nun, Sister Marie, at St. Mary Health Care Center. At first, the visits scared me because they forced me to face difficult topics like aging and death which I would have much rather ignored. But I kept going. By just showing up and being open, I developed a loving friendship with Sister Marie that I have maintained to this day. Through the intern program itself, I have gained a support system where I can be vulnerable. I feel welcome and encouraged to be myself inside those walls, and I have cried some tears in that office too. My little home in the CBL Office has become a kind of community that I didn’t even know I needed.

If there’s one thing to take away from these examples, it’s this: take advantage of the many opportunities Holy Cross provides to show up and be seen because as Brené Brown says, “in order for connection to happen, we have to let ourselves be seen—truly seen.” That’s what I’ve done, and it’s lead me to create my own club, start my own art business, and even get published in Cosmopolitan magazine during the NYC semester program. As a first-year student, I could never have imagined that I would go on to do all of these things, especially at Holy Cross, which was the last place I wanted to be at first. But through allowing myself to be vulnerable, here I am. The opportunities to establish community that I’ve found at Holy Cross not only led me to meet life-long friends, they helped me to find myself. Showing up and allowing myself to be seen has shaped me into a version of myself that I never even dreamed possible. And, if you let it, showing up and being vulnerable can shape you too. Just be open to it.

Positive Directions, a program that works to assist 9th graders in achieving success in their first year of high school and beyond, came for a campus visit of Holy Cross during our summer program to expose our students to college campuses early on in their high school careers. Partnering with Holy Cross has been a great experience for our students. Having tutors who are freshman in college working with our freshman in high school makes a great relationship. Freshman year in both high school and college is a huge transition and I am glad to have the holy cross students  be there to help my students. We have been visiting Holy cross for the past three years. The students really enjoy visiting the campus, especially Kimball. We look forward to continue visiting Holy Cross. In the future we are planning to not only attend basketball games but football as well. We also look forward to having the tutors year round and building those positive connections. See our group posing in front of Dinand Library with our HC tour guide below.

For more about the Positive Directions program, read this spotlight of Positive Directions in the T and G.

This semester, I have come to appreciate CBL through a lack of it. I’m participating in the New York City semester program, and being away from Holy Cross, I had to put my CBL commitments on hold.

I came to the city with every intention of continuing community engagement. I even found an organization, Free Arts New York City, which I hoped to volunteer with during my free time here. Then life got in the way. I realized that a full time internship, a class, and a capstone paper were going to take up more time than I thought they would. Free Arts NYC was also looking for more long-term volunteers, so there went my community engagement plans.

Before coming to New York, I thought that immersion with all sorts of people would be inevitable. And it is, to some degree. You’re often confined to a subway car with 20 or 30 strangers, many of whom are different than you. That said, people rarely talk, and subway rides are pretty short in the grand scheme of things.

I’m also living in Brooklyn Heights. It’s absolutely beautiful, and only about a five minute walk from the Brooklyn Bridge. That said, it’s also incredibly homogenous. It’s a predominantly white, affluent neighborhood. Between my neighborhood and my job at Hearst tower, there’s not a whole lot of opportunity to meet and learn from people who have vastly different experiences of New York City.

This weekend, I was reminded of that. I ordered an Uber home from La Guardia airport, and my driver was a middle aged, cheery Bangladeshi man named Mohhamad. He asked me how long my flight was, and told me that it takes a 24 hour flight to get to his home country. He told me that he works nights, and sleeps from 5am to 2pm. Mohhamad explained that for him, driving for Uber is a dream compared to the jobs he had to work when he first arrived in New York City 2 years ago. Then, he went on to tell me all about Bangladeshi food and insisted that I try some, just like he tried pizza when he came here.

When I got out of the car, I realized I was beaming. My interesting conversation with Mohhamad had sparked my love of connection across difference, which hadn’t been ignited in a while. As I reflected on it, I realized that I’ve been missing out on a lot of joy this semester by not participating in CBL or community engagement. My ride with Mohammad reminded me how much I enjoy connecting with people and learning about experiences that are different from mine.

By not having CBL this semester, I’ve definitely gained a new appreciation for it. I’ve realized my life is so much richer, and I feel more fulfilled when I’m building relationships with people who I might not necessarily meet in my day to day life. As the semester comes to a close, I’m eager to get back to the Worcester community and most importantly, my CBL friend Sister Marie at St. Mary.

This semester, I have come to appreciate CBL through a lack of it. I’m participating in the New York City semester program, and being away from Holy Cross, I had to put my CBL commitments on hold.

I came to the city with every intention of continuing community engagement. I even found an organization, Free Arts New York City, which I hoped to volunteer with during my free time here. Then life got in the way. I realized that a full time internship, a class, and a capstone paper were going to take up more time than I thought they would. Free Arts NYC was also looking for more long-term volunteers, so there went my community engagement plans.

Before coming to New York, I thought that immersion with all sorts of people would be inevitable. And it is, to some degree. You’re often confined to a subway car with 20 or 30 strangers, many of whom are different than you. That said, people rarely talk, and subway rides are pretty short in the grand scheme of things.

I’m also living in Brooklyn Heights. It’s absolutely beautiful, and only about a five minute walk from the Brooklyn Bridge. That said, it’s also incredibly homogenous. It’s a predominantly white, affluent neighborhood. Between my neighborhood and my job at Hearst tower, there’s not a whole lot of opportunity to meet and learn from people who have vastly different experiences of New York City.

This weekend, I was reminded of that. I ordered an Uber home from La Guardia airport, and my driver was a middle aged, cheery Bangladeshi man named Mohhamad. He asked me how long my flight was, and told me that it takes a 24 hour flight to get to his home country. He told me that he works nights, and sleeps from 5am to 2pm. Mohhamad explained that for him, driving for Uber is a dream compared to the jobs he had to work when he first arrived in New York City 2 years ago. Then, he went on to tell me all about Bangladeshi food and insisted that I try some, just like he tried pizza when he came here.

When I got out of the car, I realized I was beaming. My interesting conversation with Mohhamad had sparked my love of connection across difference, which hadn’t been ignited in a while. As I reflected on it, I realized that I’ve been missing out on a lot of joy this semester by not participating in CBL or community engagement. My ride with Mohammad reminded me how much I enjoy connecting with people and learning about experiences that are different from mine.

By not having CBL this semester, I’ve definitely gained a new appreciation for it. I’ve realized my life is so much richer, and I feel more fulfilled when I’m building relationships with people who I might not necessarily meet in my day to day life. As the semester comes to a close, I’m eager to get back to the Worcester community and most importantly, my CBL friend Sister Marie at St. Mary.