What My GPS Doesn’t Capture: The Kaleidoscope of God’s Creation 
by Kelli Olszewski

    I remember my very first visit to St. Therese. It was September 2018 and I was interviewing for the Digital Media Coordinator position. I programmed my Google Maps and settled for the “shortest” way: the Interstate. 
As I have found many times over, the “shortest” way 
isn’t always the quickest. 
    After starting my position, I attempted the Interstate route twice. I quickly realized I would lose to the Interstate demons. I traded my pedal to the medal speeds for the “backroads” and kissed Google Maps goodbye. The Interstate remained in my rearview mirror. 
    Growing up in Small Town USA (a very small farming community in Northwestern Pennsylvania, with a population of 850) I would dream of city landscapes lit up at night. After 35 plus years down south surrounded by the Queen city, I realized my spirituality matches that of a “country awakening.” It is my daily ride of 22 miles of backroads that captures my heart and transcends my deepest prayers. It is exactly what a GPS doesn’t capture that makes my day complete accompanied with prayer. 
At the same time I put my car in reverse, I hit my Rosary app to begin my journey. Traveling most early mornings, I get to see the sun’s rays peek through the treetops waking up the world around me. As the rays reflect the vibrant colors of the sky’s masterpiece, I pass the many dew-blanketed fields filled with cows grazing. Depending on the season I see their little ones, the calves, following along glued to the side of their mammas. 
    My daily route takes me by the high school that I have had a child enrolled in since 2011. I offer up quick prayers for all and blow some air kisses to my daughter. I pass my favorite country home that always greets me with a candle lit window from the second floor. I always wonder what its view is looking out, especially with a little encapsulated field nearby that deer forage. 
    I pass horse stables occasionally getting to see the majestic creatures in the early morning. I still hold a vivid memory of an Avelignese and her foal nuzzling together by a little brook near the winding road. Utterly breathtaking. My daily highlight is passing over the Coddle Creek Reservoir. From the sleepy, still waters to the hazy fog lifting off the water’s surface, my twenty-second jaunt sees a glimpse of nature’s paradise. Besides the myriad of Canada geese, the reservoir attracts seasonal Great Egrets that decorate a tree in the evenings. I have nicknamed the tree the “White Bow Christmas tree”. From a distance, the tree which emerges from the water, is adorned with large white bows. It is a nesting place for the egrets. My short passing plays a quick daily “Where’s Waldo” searching for the lone Blue Heron that settles near the water’s edge. On one occasion, I drove by just in time to see it flying in to land in its customary location.  As it flew over the road with its wide wingspan, I was in awe of how it glided over the water with its left-wing flapping and hitting the water’s surface stirring a sudden movement of ripples.  It is these moments I wish I could just sit there with a camera to capture these wondrous instances. 
I soon pass by a section of my travels that are aligned with Pine trees. I call this leg of my journey the Pine Tree Forest segment. 
    Though it is exciting to see the many animals and birds, it is also seeing the “country rush” of those who are going to work and school. I travel by the busy Marathon as numerous service and landscaping trucks stop as they prepare their day. As my rosary comes to a close, I pass by the Turtle Creek Garden Center and see the usual cars of employees parking as they too prepare to begin their day. Moms and dads on four wheelers waiting for their child’s school bus are sporadically placed along my journey’s path. I recall an early summer morning passing by Fire Station No. 3 and seeing the firefighters out washing their fire trucks with a group of young children. It was adorable to see them working side by side. I can only imagine the excitement of the children getting to wash a firetruck. 
    I pass small honey farms, new neighborhoods and a small sunflower field. I pass many small country churches with signs always welcoming passersby or promoting their next revival. I see early morning golfers in the rain, a field that attracts wild turkeys, and at least once-a-month tractor trailers stuck on the railroad. I laugh as I notice the same song always coming at the same place of my travels or getting stuck behind the same slow driver at least once a week. I always sigh and then giggle knowing God wants me to slow down and learn patience. 
    These are my travels, my awe-inspiring God moments of seeing daily life in its simplicity. It surely beats sitting on a stalled Interstate with high blood pressure. I look at it as a daily gift, a “stop and smell the roses” route that allows me to pray and take it all in. 

Fresh Ink
by Kelli Olszewski

One of my favorite Lenten devotionals is Stations of the Cross. This is odd because when I was a young child, I dreaded Lent especially Stations of the Cross every Saturday morning for CCD. I was also guilty of “borrowing” from my rice bowl too often to buy the candy I was to “give up.” 
    
Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with the centuries’ old devotion. Being a former parishioner of St. James the Greater in Concord, a Redemptorist’s parish, the religious order’s mission is to spread the devotion of Our Lady of Perpetual Help (OLPH). This means besides the weekly OLPH novena and Mass, they include many other ways to share about Mary. From the moment I heard Mary’s Way of the Cross, years ago, it was Mary’s words that resonated with my interior disposition. 
    
Mary’s Way of the Cross, written by a former Redemptorist priest, Richard Furey, journeys with Jesus to Calvary through his mother’s touching account. The imaginary reflections share Mary’s sorrow, inviting the readers to unite in Jesus’s pain and suffering. It is Mary’s surrender that has recaptured my heart this Lent as I have my own copy of the stations. It is Mary’s silent anguish that is preparing my mothering heartstrings in attempts to let go. My husband, my daughters, and I are days away from saying good-bye to our son, my oldest child. 
    
Andrew is joining the Navy. He is fulfilling his dream, one that he has contemplated since his middle school years and revisited during his junior year of college. He has spent the last two years both mentally and physically preparing for his naval career. Though my eyes dwell with immense heartache preparing to say good-bye, it is nowhere close to the agony that Mary faced. As she continued to witness the horrendous atrocities against her son and endure his pain and suffering with silent tears, I can learn from her surrender. She, who said yes, her fiat to St. Gabriel to bear our Savior so selflessly; I, sharing with Mary in our motherhood—by her example, she reveals God’s grace and receptivity of His will. It will be both Mary’s example of humility and her yes, that help guide me in the coming years through moments of weeping and rejoicing. 

O Jesus, 
I surrender myself to you, 
take care of everything! 
From the Surrender Novena

The Pieta (1498-1449) sculpture by Michelangelo.  This famous work of art depicts the body of Jesus on the lap of his mother Mary after the Crucifixion.

The Beauty of Downtime
by Kelli Olszewski

As I watched my husband drive away for his trip to Milwaukee, I remained in the driveway feeling my heart fill up with melancholy. 
As his trip was the beginning of his three weeks of traveling for work, I watched his car slowly disappear from my sight. I could still hear his tires crunching the layers of snow, sleet and ice that blanketed the road in our hilly neighborhood. As I began walking back to the house, I softly closed my eyes to take in the sadness. I listened to the droplets of melted snow make their way down the spout. I could hear the faint sounds of my windchime on my back porch belt out an impromptu murmured melody from the gust of wind that followed the crescendo of the tall, hundred-year-old Poplar trees swaying with the branches eerily hitting one another. That same wind already reddened my cheeks as I breathed in deeply the snow’s crispness to face the rest of the day alone. 

    It always amazes me how a visit from Mother Nature can transpose the workings of everyday life, how a small snowfall can stop us from our monotonous schedules. For years I looked at these moments as moments lost versus moments gained. I focused on what I was missing: meetings, planning events and retreats and worrying about how I was going to get everything done. I worried about how the school would plan to make up these missed days (back when the kids would have Saturday school as the make-up day). I was missing moments of appreciating watching my kids squealing in the backyard as they chased our golden retriever around who just stole the hat off of our snowman. I had a hard time letting go of what needed to be done versus what was right in front of me, a gift of downtime meant for all of us. God giving us the precious gift of playing. There were the special times when my husband was even grounded from work and we would enjoy the endless hours of sled riding, binge watching movies and drinking gallons of hot cocoa. I miss those days. 

    As I was enjoying the wonderful, balmy weather during Christmas break, I was reflecting on my need for more God moments of downtime. I recognized that my treasured downtime of silence was being replaced with the noise of distraction: social media, my Spotify play lists, podcasts, the news and even my religious apps. I have moments that I relate to the dog, Dug, from the movie Up – the squirrel scene - especially during my prayer time (yes, I am very guilty of this).  As I was reflecting that day, I knew I needed to start focusing on a better, or more intentional, prayer life. I had recently had a conversation with my daughter regarding her work schedule without looking up from my phone. I could not remember the details she told me and realized I needed to make changes. She would soon be graduating and leaving for college. These small moments would never be re-lived, even those mundane conversations. I even asked myself how much of life’s beautiful conversations was I missing and opportunities to strengthen relationships because I was so focused what was on my phone’s screen. 

    Though difficult, my New Year’s resolution, my first in years, was to finally make a change. I am attempting to get in shape for Lent by turning down the volume of distraction so I can recognize God working in my life. I put app limits on my phone so that I do not lose sight of everyday life by being buried in my phone. Being an introvert, I crave silence, but have found that I was allowing life’s distractions to rob me from my energy, my opportunities to recharge.  I realized our culture is slowly absorbing every ounce of our silence to inundate us with many messages that take us away from the opportunity to gain intimacy with God. I understood the more I succumbed to my distractions, even if they were well-intended, I was losing the voice of God talking to me through my prayer time. I was spending so much time being distracted, I was missing his voice. As we all know, his voice is not always in the wind or the earthquake or the fire, but that of a whisper. (1 Kings 19:11-12). 

    I know many of us desire to hear God’s voice, to know that we exist. And the answer is we really do exist with him, but it may be our own doing that we do not hear him, especially when he is talking directly to us. My desire this Lent is to find more opportunities of listening than allowing life’s noise to distract me from hearing his voice, to recognize the beauty of sound and sight rather than other distractions, and value the relationships I have surrounding me. 

Grandma's Ginger Snaps
by Kelli Olszewski

I came across a paper I wrote my freshman year in college for my English class.  It was entitled, “My Grandma”.  As I get older I realize how much she is still a part of my life every day.  Whether it is just a sweet childhood memory that passes my mind or sharing stories with my children, she is always present.  Sometimes, especially during holidays I wonder what it would be like spending time with her, baking or just visiting. I wonder if she would be proud of me, love my kids as I do, and even share her opinion of the world as it is now.  

​I know they say you shouldn’t put much stock in material things, but I am such a sentimental gal that I value items that were once a loved one’s.  I have my grandma’s Bible, her crucifix, my quilt she sewed for me, my other grandmother’s hope chest and fox fur shoulder wrap, and my grandpa’s clock that was his parent’s and my great grandpa’s nightstand.  This past Thanksgiving my mom suggested we eat our delicious Thanksgiving meal using my grandma’s china.  We laughed because the table looked so beautiful we were going to take a picture and sure enough we forgot.  When I come across these sentimental items they allow me to stop my busyness and reminiscence.  
 
​The other things I treasure as well are my grandma’s recipes.  I loved her cooking and baking.  Only having a couple of recipes, it is savoring the taste recalling the transpired outcome: memories. Though the memories have more value, they are intensified with the flavors that heightens the palate, sometimes causing a pang of loss even after 40 plus years. 

​With the Christmas season upon us, my girls and I look forward every year to baking cookies. They make a list of which ones we will make.  This year off the list: everything I made last year that was new.  On the top of this year’s list was ginger snaps. The ginger snaps are my grandma’s recipe.  My mom always made them when I was growing up and we always sat down to drink some tea with them (they complement one another well).  She continued the tradition with my girls. 

A few Christmases ago, the girls and I were busy making cookies.  Not able to find my grandma’s recipe, I used one from one of my recipe books.  Mistake.  They did not turn out.  I could not figure out why.  My sister recently texted me and asked me for the recipe.  I was getting ready to send her the recipe I used a few years ago. The next text she sent said, “Mom said only use grandma’s recipe.  Don’t trust anyone else’s.”  Searching in haste, I still could not find a copy of my grandma’s recipe.  

My mom, who moved a year ago, lost her recipe books and recipes. She somehow found it on her phone and sent it to my sister and me.  I immediately compared it to the previous recipe I used.  Whoa, what a difference.  My advice: if your grandma’s recipe is the real deal, stick with it.  
​
As my Merry Christmas to you, St. Therese family and friends, and those who love ginger snaps, here is my grandma’s recipe.  This most likely came from a recipe book back in the day, but it is the one that has remained the only option to make for us.  Hands down.  Oh, don’t forget to eat them with a nice hot steaming cup of tea and a friend.  Make some memories!  

GINGER SNAPS RECIPE
 

Think Different: A Tribute to Our Saints
by Kelli Olszewski 
Originally written November 1, 2009

Saints are the pinnacles of human splendor. – Fr. Thomas DuBay

In the fall of 2007, I actually sat down and watched an entire Panthers’ game (when their season was 7-9… a little better than this year’s season). During one of the breaks, I saw the Apple Computer’s commercial, “Think Different”. While the commercial was new, their slogan, “Think Different” was not. However, it is not the visual aspect of the commercial that completely caught my attention, but the narration:  “Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify them or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some see them as the crazy ones, We see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, Are the ones who do.”

The original commercial which aired in 1997, showed Albert Einstein, Bob Dylan, Gandhi and Martin Luther King. The narrator’s message was compelling – but it wasn’t saying Napoleon Dynamite, Madonna or Michael Moore to me, it reminded me of those who really did “think different”: our saints.

Our saints, “crazy enough to think they could change the world” and did. They pushed the human race forward through the beauty of Christian witness – all geniuses for doing so. For some, they were considered rebels and troublemakers and yes, even misfits. They were considered crazy. Even St. Francis of Assisi said so himself. The saints were mocked, beaten, tortured, ridiculed, persecuted, oppressed and many were martyred. Why? Because they would “think different”. They followed Christ and believed in their Catholic faith. Read about any saint who was martyred, and they welcomed their death, because their love, their conviction for Christ was so profound.

I recently read the book, “Saints: A Closer Look” by Father Thomas DuBay. Fr. DuBay shared that the saints are the pinnacles of human splendor. In other words, they were not lukewarm about their Christianity. They had a can-do attitude and a desire to imitate a life of Christ.

Through their humanity, all saints shared a radical love of the Trinity, zeal to do good works, aspired to live a virtuous life, were committed to a contemplative prayer life and were devout and adherent to the teachings and doctrines of the Church; what they professed, they lived.

By grasping just a glimmer of the lives of the saints, may they continue to be our heroes and true role models; they are the brilliant beacons to light our spiritual fires and lead us to a spiritual revolution. Let us remember Jesus’ famous Sermon on the Mount… the beatitudes… the summit of all living that was exemplified by our saints. So the next time you are ridiculed for “thinking different” about your Catholic faith, know that you are walking among the saints. Be crazy! Make a difference! As St. Catherine of Sienna said, “If you are what you should be, you will set the whole world on fire. Let the truth be your delight… proclaim it… but with certain congeniality.”