A Peace of Home

Before leaving the U.S., Tita Sit (“tita” means aunt in Tagalog), who immigrated to the U.S. wearing a scapular herself, gave me one to protect me from danger. My mom had me blessed by our parish priest and made sure I had a rosary in my pocket, and my dad carefully wrapped two crucifixes in my luggage. God must be watching over me…on my first Saturday here the nurse introduced me to students who attend weekly Mass. In China and Taiwan, I made a concerted effort to attend Sunday Mass but I didn’t have a community to keep me accountable. Since coming to Bangladesh, I have become a regular Mass goer with two students from Vietnam and another student from Sri Lanka. I learned that the majority of Catholics who attend this church, Immaculate Conception, are from Sri Lanka. Whenever I set foot in church the conflicted pangs of peace and loneliness envelop me. I think “I am home, I am with two or three people who come in God’s name to worship Him,” and I think “I am so far, so far from home.” The hour I spend listening to the Gospel, praying, and remembering what kind of a person I want to be for God helps me get through the week. Whatever challenges that lie ahead of me, I know they are possible to tackle with the strength of God.