Final Reflection

  

The Dominican Sisters of Mission San Jose and I

   Six weeks ago, I arrived in California carrying uncertainty, fear, curiosity, and a quiet hope that this experience might change me in some way. Now, as I prepare to leave, I realize the transformation was happening in the small moments all along.

It happened during early morning prayers when the house was still quiet, and the world had not fully awakened yet. It happened around dinner tables filled with stories, laughter, reflection, and honesty. It happened during long car rides across California, inside prison chapels, classrooms, motherhouses, and moments of silence shared between people who genuinely cared for one another.

Over these past six weeks, I was not only welcomed into a program or ministry, but I was welcomed into a community.

    Living alongside the Dominican Sisters and the women connected to this work allowed me to witness faith not simply as something spoken about, but as something lived daily with consistency, humility, and love. Before this trip, I understood the Dominican Order mostly through classrooms, campus ministry, and Providence College. But here, I encountered something much deeper: women who have truly dedicated their lives to accompaniment, service, justice, and the belief that every human being carries dignity.

    I watched them pray even when tired. Show up even when the work was difficult. Extend compassion even when it would have been easier not to. They embodied stewardship not through perfection, but through presence. And somehow, they made space for me within all of it.

Sisters Mary Sean, Wanda, Elizabeth, Annunciata, Beth, Cecilia, Katherine Jean, and Eileen have each left fingerprints on my heart in ways I do not think I will fully understand until much later in life. Through conversations, guidance, laughter, vulnerability, and simple acts of care, they reminded me of the strength I carry within myself even during moments when I doubted it.

Each of them saw something in me worth nurturing. And maybe that has been one of the greatest gifts of this experience.

There were moments throughout these six weeks when I felt overwhelmed by the stories I encountered. Stories of incarceration, trauma, addiction, grief, violence, hopelessness, and loss. At times, the weight of humanity felt unbearably heavy. But alongside that heaviness, these women also showed me tenderness. They showed me what it means to continue choosing compassion in a world that often teaches people to become numb.

They reminded me that social work, restorative justice, and ministry are not only about helping others heal. They are also about remaining open enough to be transformed yourself. I arrived here hoping to better understand the world. Instead, I think I also began understanding myself. This experience affirmed my desire to become a social worker, but more importantly, it reminded me of the kind of person I hope to become: someone who listens deeply, accompanies gently, advocates fiercely, and never loses sight of the humanity in others or in herself.

As I prepare to leave California, I realize that what I will miss most is not necessarily the places, but the people. The rhythm of communal living. Morning prayers echoing through the house. Shared meals after long days. Conversations that lingered late into the evening. The comfort of knowing someone would always ask how your day was and genuinely wait to hear the answer.

There is something sacred about being cared for in ordinary ways. And for six weeks, I was blessed enough to experience that kind of care.

I do not think I have the words yet to fully express my gratitude. All I know is that I arrived here searching for purpose, and I am leaving with something even more meaningful: community, clarity, and a deeper understanding of what it means to walk alongside others with love.

For that, I will be eternally grateful.