This spring is my second semester at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), a university that specializes almost exclusively in science and engineering. I am originally from the hot, Spanglish-speaking, predominantly Mexican- American town of Los Fresnos, Texas, near the U.S.-Mexico border. Now at MIT in Boston, I couldn’t be farther from home. I have to take three trains to get decent tacos de bistec, and I am 2,190 miles away from the one place I have lived my entire life. Most of the time, work keeps me too busy to really miss home, but the day that is always the hardest for me is Sunday.

Last September, I joined the Mennonite Congregation of Boston (MCOB), a lovely community of welcoming people who have truly become a support system for me. The travel to MCOB is particularly emotional for me. Most of the time, I have at least five assignments pending, it’s cold, the bus is crowded, and I miss my family. However, as I walk, I sing a “corito,” a short Spanish hymn. Most people on the public transit probably think I’m crazy by now, but it is the music, la música, that keeps me sane. I look up to the sky and think of how blessed I am to be here, in this place far from home, representing my roots.

We sing coritos to celebrate worship at church, baptisms, during holiday celebrations and even when we are sitting on the porch enjoying the breeze. As beautiful as these short, rhythmic hymns are, I always smile when I hear the stories from my parents about the moments when coritos might not be a good idea. Like the time my beautiful and beloved grandmother broke out singing coritos on a flatbed trailer with a group of well-meaning hermanos during my parents’ wedding reception. I laugh every time I hear that story. As someone who was not there to witness it, that seems to me to be a hilarious, beautiful, and sacred moment.

Coritos have a long tradition in Mexican- American Protestant and Pentecostal communities. They served as expressions of faith for my people’s long tradition of crossing borders, building community and engaging in struggle for dignity. It is exactly that history that makes me feel connected to those who’ve struggled so that today a young Mexican-American woman like me could have the chance to study at MIT.

Coritos are a beautiful mix of culture and spirituality that are especially comforting now that I am so far from home. Ever since I was a little girl, my mother would sing me coritos in the car as she drove me to school or church. I loved choosing my favorite ones and leading the singing. In high school, I was always on the stage singing at church. The corito brings people together, and I feel that even though Latinas didn’t generally have the opportunity to become leaders in the church, when they sang they brought the church together.

A corito is something everyone can understand and memorize because the style is short, repetitive and rhythmic. When I sang with the worship team at my church in South Texas, I could feel myself giving everything I had to God. A lot of what I understand about my spirituality is grounded in the corito. It is a meditation to stop and connect with God, both for myself and in community with others.

Along this faith journey we are all on, it is important to understand what form is best for us to connect with God, whether it be prayer, reading the Bible or singing. That personal form of connection is as important as the community we find in the church. Finding how we will remind ourselves that God is always with us is part of living as followers of Jesus. The only way we are going to live by the Bible is if we are constantly making decisions based on what Jesus would do. Part of that understanding comes from our church community. We learn by example, and we find those around us we can share our journey with.

Another part of this journey is finding how we will personally connect with God. Finding that small ritual that will ground me is something I have found important in my daily life. I think of all of the strong women before me who have sung coritos to get them through the hardest of times. I imagine my great-grandmother singing in the fields as she picked cherries in northern Michigan, my grandmother singing as she stirred los frijoles in the kitchen, and my mother singing as she became the first in her family to go to college. My grandmother tells stories time and time again about when coritos helped her get through difficult moments in life. Latinas in my family sing for strength, and I will continue to use coritos to remind myself of the strength God can give me.