It was my first fax. And it seemed especially momentous, considering it came all the way from Rome. In the midst of planning our trip, I struggled to master this antiquated mode of communication. But, with a little help from a secretary much more adept than I, I walked away triumphantly with the prize in my hand. One step closer to seeing Pope Francis. The Vatican gives tickets to anyone who wants to attend a papal audience that are technically free, but they come at the cost

Wednesday morning made me nervous. It made me nervous and loosened my grip and opened my heart to God’s whispering voice. Armed as I was with a map and working phone and two days of long, silent walks under my (money) belt, I grasped for control and lost it in the most delightful way. Allow me to explain. Each morning in Rome, we left bright (actually, dark) and early to meet dozens of seminarians to walk to 7 a.m. Mass. Each Mass was held at a Station Church, a centuries-old

This is a story of my suitcase heart. (No, not my 17th birthday.) I just spent a week in Rome. A week in Rome. It sounds so flippant, like, Oh, I did laundry this morning. It doesn’t detail the abundant graces, the moments of tasting eternity, the silent miles of walking each day as the sun greeted the city, the meals that illuminated the joy to come at the eternal wedding banquet. And it doesn’t capture the way my heart grew to fit 16 more, students and missionaries and a pr