Cortina is a loom, a framework holding loose threads together to weave into a fabric. In Cortina, I met different people bringing stories and ideas from around the world and around their hearts. Cortina guided the shuttle that helped make those threads cross: service trips, time at Metro tutoring, conversations in the NZ at hours that can charitably be described as irresponsible. It flung my friends and I to protests and into the gritty reality, into contact with the real and the pure, into vulnerability. We learned the stories of our neighbors, our sisters, and our selves. Each invitation and opportunity helped make the fabric we work together stronger, seamless. Each conversation, hug, tear — the words and punctuation of a story we are still writing. They’re the rhythm to our perplexing dance.
My physical time in cortina is over now, but it is an indelible tattoo on my life. Cortina was normalizing for me: it taught me that these strange ideas weren’t so strange. That people are sacred, that love is the most powerful force in the universe, that stories are all that matter. In the wildly tumultuous years of college, the warm embraces of friends’ words and arms made the journey down new roads holy and exhilarating. That doesn’t mean our journeys weren’t and aren’t scary. But we know we don’t walk them alone.
In the end, Cortina’s lasting impact is the human fabric it helps weave. My best friends came from those years, as did my first love. Those people are sacred beyond words and are the true pages on which our stories are written. They are friends for life, friends who all tell each other “I love you” and mean it. In the time since Creighton, they are what gets me through the hardest challenge I’ve ever faced, depression. In this time, it is they who challenge me to do ordinary things extraordinarily.
The way we choose to make the threads of our lives cross shapes how we will go through life. The ties created there are sacred, unbreakable, and everlasting. Those ties, paraphrasing the words of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, help us to see what is essential with the eyes of our hearts. Those ties, to use a favorite phrase of Jon Cortina, help us put little feet to the gospel.
One word to describe my Cortina experience: Querencia.(the word querencia means a place from which one’s strength of character is drawn, a place in which we know exactly who we are, and from which we speak our deepest beliefs.)
-Tim Nendick, A Cortinian in 2009-2010, A Cortina RA from 2010-2012