Author Archives: Sara Vasile

I just went home for Easter. I had one of the best breaks that I’ve had in a long time, but I felt very busy. On Saturday morning, I had a few moments to pray before the rest of my family woke up. I thought a lot in that prayer time about how the apostles must have felt after the Lord was crucified and before He had risen. I’m sure they felt confused; maybe they felt as if they had been tricked; maybe they felt defeated. I could just imagine a totally dejected spirit over them in those two days

For probably a good portion of the past six months, I have been been praying a lot about surrender. While I would expect that it would be really difficult for me to surrender my future, the most difficult prayer for me has actually been, “Lord, I surrender to where you have me in my life right now.” As uncertain as the future is, it is sometimes the present moment that feels the most rocky. The problem with this prayer is that I constantly feel like I’m failing. I can never surrender enough.

This week, one of my best friends from college asked me in an email how she could pray for me. So I sat and typed on my computer for an hour and a half, telling her how messy my life is. About five minutes after I started typing, I thought, “Wow, I really haven’t said all of this to anyone.” These past few days, I have been thinking a lot about why. I know that it might be controversial or a little bit awkward to write that my life is messy in my missionary blog. I mean, shouldn’t my life

Several times over the past year and a half, I’ve heard many people say, “You don’t have to give up your whole life to be a missionary.” It is usually said in reference to the idea that we have to be missionaries in our daily lives, that you can be a missionary wherever you are, whether that’s in a school, or in a workplace, or at the grocery store. This is true. We can be missionaries wherever we are, no matter what our age, or title in life. However, I think it is a lie to believe that

At about five o’clock yesterday evening, the four Atlanta missionaries were driving back from a youth minister’s conference in New Orleans. There had been snow flurries floating around our car since somewhere in Alabama. We were about thirty minutes away from home, driving north on I-85 in a twelve-passenger van, pulling a 12-foot trailer behind us that was semi-filled with resources and shelving from our booth at the conference. Then the left tire on our trailer popped. Problem. When I was

What a strange day. This morning after Mass, I told God that all I wanted today was that He would hold me. I wanted to be a little child and crawl up in His lap and lean my head against His chest and listen to His heartbeat, and just be there in the Father’s embrace. I expected that this was just another prayer. In fact, I almost forgot that I had prayed it. Fast forward to this afternoon. For some reason lately, I’ve found it really easy to get distracted in prayer. So I’ve had to read the

I have found many challenges about moving from Covecrest to Atlanta. Living in the city is entirely different than living at a Catholic camp in the mountains for a year. I love Atlanta so far, and living in the mountains definitely had it’s own set of difficulties and blessings, but this city thing is totally different. Living in Atlanta as a missionary, in the middle of a whole lot of consumerism is hard. It’s hard to drive by Chick-fil-a and not think about a milkshake. It’s hard to drive