It’s been two and a half weeks since I’ve posted here – I’m sorry. The reason for the long lapse is that I’ve been away, and have been pretty busy. I was at our provincial house, helping with a number of projects, including jelly-making and website maintenance for our retreat center there. The previous weekend, I had been in Fargo, attending a diocesan workshop for parish musicians. This was a very enriching experience, and I even had a mini organ lesson! I got a ride back to Grand Forks with Sister Donna, who would be staying a few days to enjoy a little respite and attend a meeting up here later in the week. With her, to my delight, she brought new booklets from our religious congregation: the photo/contact directory of our Sisters – and – the name day book! (Isn’t it crazy how we look for our own photo, and those of people we know well, before anything else when getting a new publication?) I’ll be honest, I wasn’t thrilled with the picture that was chosen for me, but life goes on. My faint displeasure was more than compensated for, though, when I opened the name day book! * * * Around the time I was received as a novice, there was a discussion about a nameday. Since we belong to a German-based congregation, the celebration of one’s namesake (usually saint) is a prominent one for us. We pray for our Sisters around the world on the eve of their nameday (or for certain provinces, their birthday). At that time, I had indicated that the feast of Corpus Christi has always been a special day for me; it’s been pretty much my nameday since birth, especially since I was born right around that time in June. However, much to my dismay, I was informed that I couldn’t use this as my nameday because it was a moveable feast (changing each year based one when Easter falls). I had, instead, to choose a another date, one that had a unchanging date on the calendar. Thus, for the past sixteen years, July 24th has been my nameday “in the books.” I have nothing against the Saints Christina who are honored that day, and am grateful for their intercession, but the feast of Corpus Christi is extremely special and important to me. This past year, when preparations were being made for new booklets, we were asked to submit a little information. Along with our birthplace and home diocese, we were to indicate our special day as well. Having noticed that one Sister’s nameday is on Pentecost (which is also a moveable feast), I had dared to hint that I would really like to return to my original nameday of Corpus Christi, but had heard no more about the matter. * * * Last evening, then, when I eagerly opened the new document, I saw that my name was not listed among those to be remembered in prayer for July 24th. After flipping back to the end of May, I saw my name, but there was what looked like a strange German word next to it: Fronleichnam. A quick Google search revealed that Fronleichnam would be on June 8 in 2023 (two days before my birthday), but I wanted to confirm my suspicions of what that foreign phrase meant. Another search revealed that this was, indeed, the German word for my beloved feast of Corpus Christi – My nameday had been changed back! Fronleichnam is actually German for “the Lord’s Body,” and this is what they call the feast in Germany, rather than retaining the Latin as we do in English. So, in German, it’s hard to make a case for this being my nameday, but in English, there’s a stronger tie. I guess this is just one of those things that’s “lost in translation.”
2 Comments
Yesterday was interesting! I worked the night shift Tuesday into Wednesday, and then took a long nap. (I’m still feeling the effects of a disrupted sleep schedule.)
Then, after lunch, I had a conversation with someone, which provided much food for thought. I’m still unpacking it! One major insight came from reference to John Paul II’s emphasis on human dignity. This concept is so important, and so lacking in our society today. Our culture stresses “work, work, work,” as if this is all that life is about…as if our worth, as persons, is summed up in our “productivity,” and as if we, human beings, were merely robots to be used for convenience. This poisonous attitude filters into our lives, even as Christians. Yesterday’s conversation increased my awareness of this. It resonated deeply in my own heart, this realization that failure to respect human dignity is at the root of so much stress and suffering. When we, as persons, get frustrated, when we feel unappreciated, taken for granted, and worn out, how often is it connected with this issue? As baptized human persons, we are children of God, made in His image. We have inherent worth, which is not tied up in “what we do.” There’s more to be said on this topic than can be covered in a short blog post, but I’d encourage you (and me) to read more from St. John Paul II’s teaching on the dignity of the human person, and allow it to shape your interactions with other people. Earlier this month, we had a wonderful OktoberFest party in our activity room. It was great, but the staff who put it on over-budgeted a little on the soft pretzels. The leftovers got put in a plastic bag and stowed away in the fridge. Monday, the re-appeared again, and were going to get tossed since they weren’t exactly fresh anymore. Before that could happen, I grabbed the bag and said I’d take them. Bringing them to the conference room where we eat our meals, I ended up sampling one. They weren’t too bad (but not too good, either). Then, I had an idea – why not make bread pudding? Salted caramel’s become quite popular lately, right? I did a little research, and, sure enough, “salted caramel pretzel bread pudding” is a thing! Multiple recipes online confirmed my hopes. Rather than go through the trouble of making a fancy salted caramel sauce, though, I decided to resort to my “tried and true” recipe which I had come up with during the bagel inundation of 2019/20. The salt from the pretzels would add a wonderful dimension to this recipe; also, soft pretzels are similar in texture to bagels, so it should work out fine, I thought. The batch made two pans of “salted caramel pretzel bread pudding,” which turned out to be very tasty. We enjoyed it with our lunch that day. Afterwards, we stored some away in the fridge, put I still had a larger pan untouched. I stuck it in the activity room fridge, planning to serve it for the residents’ snack-time sometime soon. Yesterday, I found out that they were having a dance with accordion music in the afternoon. I asked our activity director when snack would be, and found out that she was actually wanting something a little more special (than the customary “package deal”) for the occasion. This would be the perfect way to use my bread pudding, I figured! I would coax residents down for the afternoon’s entertainment with the small of delicious caramel bread pudding warming in the oven. Sometimes people are less than eager to attend these events, unfortunately, and we’re not opposed to a little good old fashioned bribery at times. Let it be known: they polished off the whole pan! As I glanced over Tuesday’s Mass readings, the refrain of the assigned responsorial psalm caught my attention: “Let your mercy come to me, O Lord.” What a simple, yet beautiful prayer! It resonated deeply in my heart, which has been heavy again of late, amidst some challenging days and circumstances. This experience, which I will have to delve into more deeply during my prayer time tomorrow, is evidence of the quote from Hebrews, which is used in the gospel acclamation: “The word of God is living and effective, able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart.” I am grateful for this word, alive in our lives, which helps bring us to the freedom Christ offers, as St. Paul so beautifully stated in tomorrow’s epistle: “For freedom Christ set us free.” In closing, may I ask for your prayers in these challenging times, that His mercy may come to me in abundance? Oh, Psalm 139! I was blessed to be able to read it at Mass today. I had memorized much of it back in college, when I was accustomed to praying the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary. For me, this psalm is a special scripture passage. It touches and warms my heart. I really like a couple of the hymns which have been adapted from it, such as “O God, You Search Me” and “You are Near.” (We actually sang the former this morning at Mass.) Amidst the struggles of life, it is wonderful to remember the message contained in this psalm. If you’re having a tough day, or are in need of a reminder of God’s closeness, I’d encourage you to take a few moments and reflect upon this beautiful passage. It wasn’t just relevant 3,000 years ago; it’s “living and effective” today as well. O LORD, you have probed me and you know me; you know when I sit and when I stand; you understand my thoughts from afar. My journeys and my rest you scrutinize, with all my ways you are familiar. Where can I go from your spirit? From your presence where can I flee? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I sink to the nether world, you are present there. If I take the wings of the dawn, if I settle at the farthest limits of the sea, Even there your hand shall guide me, and your right hand hold me fast. Truly you have formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother's womb. I give you thanks that I am fearfully, wonderfully made; wonderful are your works. I know it’s been a number of weeks since I’ve posted any reflections here. I’m sorry, but I guess I’ve been busy and also not had much inspiration.
As I embark on the final stretch of a fifteen hour stint at the reception desk, I realized that it’s been a while and that, perhaps, I’d better come up with something. Glancing at the USCCB’s daily readings webpage for inspiration, I saw that tomorrow’s selection is again from Ecclesiastes. Skimming the words: “There is an appointed time for everything…A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant. A time to kill, and a time to heal…a time of war, and a time of peace,” I was struck by their timeless beauty. The truths proclaimed thousands of years ago are no less relevant today. In this time when I, for one, face so much added stress and uncertainty, it’s good to remember the lessons contained here. In times of weeping, mourning, dying, uprooting, killing, tearing down, scattering, not embracing, losing, casting away, rending, hating, and war, I need to keep my gaze directed upward. It’s so easy to get caught up in the turmoil around me, on the storm. I need to strive to keep my attention on the One who’s “got it all” and who can calm the storm with a single word. Whether he decides to end the tempest suddenly or chooses to walk with me through it, I need to entrust myself and my situation to Him, asking Him to stay close to me through it all. As we celebrate the birthday of the Blessed Virgin today, I decided to share a poem I wrote as a postulant. Ave Maria! Hail our Mother and our Queen Who, at present though not seen, Watches and protects us here- in times of peace and times of fear. Please help us to be more like you Who, in everything, was true. Please help us trust and truly pray: Let it be done me as you say. Guide us, please, and help us obey The words at Cana you did say. Like those servants, please help us do What ever He tells [us] to. Show us, please, the way to go And what we should do to know. Please help our minds be lit, not dim As we heed: Listen to Him. Please help us have obedient hearts And never let our feet depart From the way which you did run That will lead us to your Son. Hail, my Mother and my Queen! Though your loving hands unseen, I know you have maternal care For us your children everywhere. Written January 9, 2006 This morning’s gospel of the calling of the fishermen (in conjunction with the miraculous catch of fish) in Luke 5 can serve as an inspiration to all of us, especially during times, like our own, which tend to be challenging.
If you’re anything like me, you may be feeling a bit discouraged at times, and be inclined to wonder if things will ever change in regard to certain situations. Peter, exhausted from a night of fruitless toil is in this same “boat” here. When Jesus instructs him to "Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch," he’s not exactly jumping up with excited optimism. He’s realistic, like any of us. His very matter-of-fact response is: "Master, we have worked hard all night and have caught nothing.” Nonetheless, he doesn’t stop there. He’s willing to submit of Jesus’ instructions, although his fisherman commonsense would tell him otherwise: “but at your command I will lower the nets." I don’t know about you, but this passage nudged me this morning. I may be tempted to think, “What’s the use? I’m not succeeding. I’m not catching any fish. I might as well give up on that.” Perhaps, in this morning’s encounter, Jesus is whispering to you and to me: “Don’t give up!...Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch." If we are open and obedient, if we keep spending time with Jesus, we might just see our own miraculous catch of fish (or whatever that translates to in our own lives). In whatever our circumstances, may we be attentive to the Holy Spirit’s call to leave everything and follow Him. I guess I'm always game for an adventure! Several weeks ago I had this crazy idea: “Why don't we have a booth at the Farmer's Market in Town Square? We could sell embroidered dish towels, jams and jellies, crocheted items, etc.” I further thought that such a venture would be a good way to get St. Anne’s’ name out in the community more, as Sr. Elaine likes to say, it would be good PR. After talking it over with Sr. Rebecca, who to my surprise endorsed the idea, I completed the application form. I went on with my summer, with all this in the back of my mind. Shortly before leaving for my home visit, I got word that our application had been approved: we could be a vendor at the Town Square Farmers’ Market. After coming back to Grand Forks last Sunday, I began to pursue this more, and we decided that the coming weekend would be as good a time as any to try it out. After all, produce was coming into season, which would bring plenty of potential customers. I might even find some good garden fresh beets to bring home! This past week, then, I worked hard, making jam, gathering and pricing items, and making signs for the big day. Two of our apartment residents, who had been frequenting the market this summer, offered to come and help. So it was that yesterday morning, with the van loaded up, I went downtown and set up our booth. The resident volunteers joined me a little while later for a couple of hours. Everything went pretty well, and last evening, as I worked the front desk, I tallied the proceeds, and put unsold items back in our gift cases. This morning, I needed to be at the front desk by 7 a.m., so I set up for Mass beforehand. It took longer than it should have, though, since I was dragging still from the day before, and also because I hadn’t been there yesterday morning to change things over for Sunday. I made it, however, and here I am, working my shift. I was asked yesterday if I thought I would do it (got to market) again. I responded, “I don’t know…Not tomorrow anyhow!” . Over a week ago, I left for the Twin Cities to visit my family there. Extenuating circumstances had led to an earlier departure than planned (with a consequent crazy evening of decision making, packing, and preparation).
Catching a ride with a friend of a friend ended up being delightful. We both work in related fields and share an interest in the Spanish language. These among other commonalities, were unknown before we got in the car together. We ended up talking about our work and attending a Spanish Mass together near St. Cloud (again, unplanned). I really felt blessed! My week with my mom and siblings held blessings of its own. I got to see a number of relatives and old friends. We also spent one day at our friends' farm about an hour south. That was certainly a highlight. Along with the chance to visit, walk, and bike, other happenings included a short trip to Stillwater and a walk to Wisconsin (across the St. Croix) and a tour of the historically significant St. Anthony Falls (which I had never been to before). An added bonus was the chance to meet up our cousin, who I hadn’t seen for about twenty years. It was such a blessing to have this time. It gave me some fresh perspective, and a needed break. I am grateful to those who filled in for me back at St. Anne’s, making this home visit possible. As I hit the ground running now, working the evening shift at the reception desk as I start a new week at work, I would appreciate your continued prayers. Today’s feast of St. Alphonsus Ligouri, together with a book I just finished about St. Margaret Mary, has brought a beautiful prayer, written by the former, to my mind of late. I first learned it as a high school or college student, when our pastor began promoting First Friday devotions. He would lead us in this prayer. You may be familiar with it, and, if not I’d like to introduce you to a beautiful treasure: Most sweet Jesus, Redeemer of the human race, look down upon us humbly prostrate before You. We are Yours, and Yours we wish to be; but to be more surely united with You, behold each one of us freely consecrates himself today to Your Most Sacred Heart. Many indeed have never known You; many, too, despising Your precepts, have rejected You. Have mercy on them all, most merciful Jesus, and draw them to your Sacred Heart. Be King, O Lord, not only of the faithful who have never forsaken You, but also of the prodigal children who have abandoned You; grant that they may quickly return to their Father's house, lest they die of wretchedness and hunger. Be King of those who are deceived by erroneous opinions, or whom discord keeps aloof, and call them back to the harbor of truth and the unity of faith, so that soon there may be but one flock and one Shepherd. Grant, O Lord, to Your Church assurance of freedom and immunity from harm; give tranquility of order to all nations; make the earth resound from pole to pole with one cry: Praise to the Divine Heart that wrought our salvation; to it be glory and honor for ever. Amen. In writing this, I wonder, if more people would undertake a heartfelt recitation of this prayer with some frequency, how might our world change? I guess we (you and I) can start with ourselves! We never know how our small efforts, united with the Sacred Heart, might impact the lives of others. These efforts by our above-mentioned pastor’s certainly made an impact on me, which continues to this day.
As we begin a week of festivities in honor of our patron saint, here at St. Anne's, I thought I would share a poem I wrote some years ago about her and her husband, St. Joachim. More recently, I've set it to music. I may have a use for it sometime this week here at St. Anne's.
I hope you enjoy it! Saints Anne and Joachim, please pray for us! On a day when the scripture readings centered around visitors, travelers, and hospitality, I got to experience related blessings on a personal level. Last evening, I was working at the reception desk and got a phone call: “What would you do if two Sisters came in around nine-thirty?” To this I responded, “I would welcome them, and attend to their needs.” (Perhaps the story of Abraham, which I had been preparing for the morrow’s non-denominational service for our residents inspired this answer.) Two of our Sisters would be passing through on their way to a celebration at Mt. Carmel, ND the next morning. They would spend the night. A little while later, another call came from Hankinson, in which I was invited to travel with them for the event. Having a number of commitments planned, I said that it probably wouldn’t work, but that I would think about it. Everything fell neatly into place, and I was able to go. Residents did a beautiful job taking care of the sacristy for me, for example. On the way, we past numerous fields of canola. It was striking! It made a person almost envy those living in the vicinity for the beauty that surrounded them. I am grateful for a much needed getaway! When I got back, feeling a little bad for missing the non-denominational service after all (since we didn’t get back on time), I led a little hymn-singing session in the front lobby. I was at the front desk, and so could not do a service in chapel. I am grateful for the opportunity to celebrate with the people there, and appreciate those who made this getaway possible. Our Lady of Mount Carmel, please pray for us! This morning, after Mass, Father stopped us in the kitchen, saying that we should sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Sr. Elaine. I had prayed for her in the petitions at Mass. We even sang the second verse, and, no, I don’t mean “How old are you…” The second verse that we usually use in our community is: “May the dear Lord bless you, and His Blessed Mother, too. May the Angels in heaven watch over you!”
The priest at Mass, just minutes before, had alluded to the angels in his homily, reflecting briefly on the first reading (Isaiah’s vision in the temple). A little while later, Sister Elaine came to the front desk to relieve me so I could go on an errand downtown. Just then, two ladies who attend Mass here frequently, came in. They, too, had taken note that it was Sister’s special day; they had gone out and brought back a beautiful strawberry cream cake and a flavored coffee. I think it made her day! Please join me in asking the angels in heaven to watch over her in a special way! This morning’s gospel reading about the call of St. Matthew resonated with me on a personal level, as I sat in chapel. I had planned to sleep in, after working a third night shift within a week’s time, but I woke up and was wide awake; my clock told me it was close to 5:30 a.m. This morning’s gospel told of how Jesus called Matthew, the tax collector, from his post. This was the beginning of a whole new life for this former government employee. You could say, he “did a 180.” I, too, have experienced a turnaround recently, and not just in my sleep schedule! I’ve been having a hard time lately, facing various challenges; it’s been a tough stretch. Yesterday, though, an unexpected conversation with our administrator was a game-changer. Some issues were covered, and I came away with a fresh outlook on life. With a special grace from above (yes, I’ve sure been praying), I did a 180! Often the work of our Divine Physician, who came “to seek and save what was lost” is accomplished through the simple things of life, even in something as unpretentious as good communication. Some of us are well aware of the fact that June 24th is supposed to be the solemnity of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist. The fact that it is one of our Sisters’ nameday might be responsible in part for the date sticking in my mind. This year, however, since it is the Friday after Corpus Christi, June 24th will be the solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Whoever, in the Church, makes decisions about the liturgical calendar decided to move our celebration of John the Baptist’s birth to today, June 23rd. As I reflected a bit upon this, it occurred to me that this arrangement, actually, is quite appropriate on a deeper level. John the Baptist is sometimes referred to as the “forerunner” or “precursor.” In the words of his father, Zechariah, he went “before the Lord to prepare His way.” I think it is beautifully fitting; this year John the Baptist’s great feast day immediately precedes our commemoration of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, for whom he so faithfully “ma[de] ready the way.” As I neared the end of our annual six-day silent retreat, I started getting a bit restless. During these days of quiet reflection, words from our constitutions resonated in my mind. Although not speaking specifically of retreats, I think the passage’s application here was appropriate: “General penitential times of the Church and days of recollection should awaken in us a wholesome unrest.” (Constitutions, 3:7) I couldn’t help but wonder: What in the world is wholesome unrest? I could understand the unrest part. Over 140 hours of silence (except for common prayer, table reading, and instrumental music at dinner), coupled with lack of one’s usual work routine, can make those of us with extrovert inclinations a bit stir crazy. Why, I wondered, is such a feeling considered “wholesome” by the writers of our constitutions? Usually, we don’t think of things that disrupt our peace of soul in a positive light. Wouldn’t unrest seem to fall into the category of “desolation,” which spiritual masters advise us to be cautious of? There must be something to it, though, some benefit derived from this restlessness of spirit which we consciously inflict on ourselves each year. In his closing conference, our retreat master compared annual retreats to stretching in the morning, as his cat routinely does. Perhaps, then, wholesome unrest stretches our spiritual muscles for better functioning throughout the year. I'm sorry it's been a few weeks since I wrote last. Between writer's block and other complications, I haven't gotten back here for a while. Truth be told, it's been kind of busy...between planting our gardens, helping with the rummage sale, and spending some days helping with projects at our provincial house in Hankinson. While I was down there, I was grateful to have evening walks with one of my fellow Sisters just about every night. It was so nice! One morning at breakfast, though, we were informed that there seemed to be a mountain lion in the vicinity. People had heard it screaming. A day or two later, the report was confirmed. We weren't too worried, and continued our evening walks, though avoiding the pasture area where we thought the feline would be more likely to roam. We had been advised that, if we saw it, we should raise up our arms so as to appear bigger, and slowly back away from it. I also heard that mountain lions aren't prone to attack people. The whole thing reminded me of the scene in the original Parent Trap, where the twins trick their dad's fiancee into making a fool of herself by knocking sticks together as she walked. It became a little joke throughout my days there, as we reminded each other about danger of the potential intruder. This morning, I went into the office I use to check on my seedlings, and turn on the grow light. Haphazardly, I decided to check on the cucumber seeds I had planted last week. As I lifted the lid of the small plastic container I had planted them in, I was shocked to see that, not only had they already germinated, but they were a couple of inches tall. It was as if they were saying, “Hello – here we are.” As I write this, I am reminded of the gospel passage (Mark 4:26-29) which says: This is how it is with the kingdom of God; it is as if a man were to scatter seed on the land and would sleep and rise night and day and the seed would sprout and grow, he knows not how. Of its own accord the land yields fruit, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the grain is ripe, he wields the sickle at once, for the harvest has come.” It is truly amazing how, year after year, from tiny little seeds, plants grow up and produce a bountiful harvest (we hope!). This is just a reminder, as 1 Corinthians 6 says, that “God gives the growth.” During this Easter octave, I’ve been struggling to wrap my mind around some of the mystery that we’ve entered into: that of the resurrection. I know that this isn’t possible, but, still, the brain tries to make sense of it. I guess I’m not alone in this. Those first disciples struggled, too, when faced with the mystery of our risen Lord’s presence. His questions to them, “Why are you troubled? And why do questions arise in your hearts?” (Luke 24) could well be asked of me and of you. So often, we fail to grasp what Christ’s risen life means in our own lives. We become troubled. We fail to recognize Him in the many little details of our lives. On that first Easter Sunday, as reflected in today’s gospel, Jesus helped his followers recognize Him by a couple of different means… He broke bread. Although I am unaware of any evidence that the two who travelled with Jesus to Emmaus were present at the Last Supper, somehow His gesture of breaking bread “opened their eyes.” Perhaps, they had been there at the feeding of the multitude, who knows! A second gesture that was meant to give light for those bewildered followers of His was the showing of His hands and feet. Jesus had to point out to them that He was not a ghost. He further illuminated this point by eating a piece of baked fish. (That happens to be on the menu here tomorrow, but I will have to pass on that opportunity for imitation as I cannot stomach it!) Today, each of us might take a moment to ponder how Jesus is showing Himself to us in our lives, asking Him for light and responding in gratitude. We will not see His wounds or watch Him break the bread, but, surely, He is with us always, until the end of the age, as He promised. Last evening, as I neared the end of my shift, I got up from the front desk, feeling tired and restless. I decided to meander down to the activity room, to see what was happening and if anyone was still there.
Two residents were, in fact, still there, watching TV. One appeared to be writing out Easter cards. She spoke to me, “I think the only thing I have left to do (for Holy Week liturgies) is the clapper, right?” “Yes,” I responded. “Do you want me to show you how it works?” Without needing much encouragement, I headed down the hallway to where our famous brown suitcase was sitting on a chair in the small dining room. As I knew it would be, there was the clapper. I brought it back to the activity room, and demonstrated its proper use to the watching resident. She tried it with her small, elderly hands, a bit less successfully at first. We discussed when it would be used. Since the bells are silent from after the Gloria of Holy Thursday until the Easter vigil, the clapper is used in their place during the Eucharistic prayer at the Mass of the Lord’s Supper. I asked her if she’d like to borrow the clapper, and bring it back to her apartment to practice. She declined, stating that she didn’t think her neighbors would appreciate it. Nonetheless, I think she’s got a good enough handle on how it works, and all should go fine Thursday evening. Prayers for a blessed Triduum! As we began this Lenten journey, I found myself struggling with what to do for Lent, being quite overwhelmed with the unstable staffing situation at work. I found myself trying to do some little penances each day, but not committing to anything big. As we neared the fifth Sunday of Lent, I was planning to put the purple cover over our large crucifix in chapel. I had never done this before, as our maintenance men always took care of it. This year, however, I was going to give it a try and see if I couldn’t handle it myself. It would be an interesting challenge, I thought. However, Thursday morning, things really changed! My best laid plans were put to rest... I have chronic sinus problems, so Wednesday night, before bed, I took a new medication which is supposed to help with congestion. I woke up with a sore throat, presumably from my sinuses draining into the back of my throat all night. Things only got worse, and by Saturday morning, I was miserable. It hurt terribly to swallow. I found it hard to get any fluids down, which only escalated my condition. As unpleasant as this situation has been, it has also been an eye opener for me, spiritually. It has been a poignant invitation for me to unite my sufferings (which seemed terrible to me) with those of Jesus. My pain forced me to realize, a bit more, what His pain and suffering must have been. I certainly didn’t pick this “Lenten penance,” but it has been a good one. Your prayers that its duration may be shortened would be appreciated. This morning, I got the flyer/announcement from Sr. Jean Louise for our Mother Daughter Days this summer! I hope I can participate again this year! The Franciscan Sisters of Dillingen invite you to their 2022 Mother-Daughter Days at St. Francis Convent in Hankinson, North Dakota. "I have loved you with an everlasting love!" There will be two sessions offered this summer: Sunday, June 19 - Tuesday (noon), June 21 ~ and ~ Thursday, July 21 - Saturday, July 23 Come, spend time: - listening to Jesus - getting to know the Franciscan Sisters - praying with the Sisters -meeting others also on their way to a closer relationship with Jesus To register, call or text Sr. Jean Louise at (701) 208-1245 as soon as possible. Participation is limited in number. On this day following the feast of St. Joseph, patron of the Universal Church, I had a beautiful experience that enhanced my awareness of the Church’s universality. According to our schedule (which I have on the sacristy counter), our regular Mass celebrant would not be able to be with us this Sunday; I had made arrangements with an elderly resident priest, who was willing to offer the Mass in his stead. However, last night, upon returning from reading at the 5 p.m. Mass at the local parish, I noticed a note on our table. The large black wording me that our normal priest would, in fact, be here to offer Mass. I passed the information on to the other priest, so he would not have to prepare for this. This would be easier on him, I was sure. This morning, therefore, I set up for Mass as usual, for our customary visiting priest, having every reason to believe that he would be here, after all. As I was working my shift at the front desk, another priest walked in. He knew we had 9 a.m. Mass and wished to concelebrate. That sounded nice to me, so I showed him where he could hang his coat and offered him the use of our vestments (although he assured me that he had his own). I was relieved from the desk to make final preparations (lighting candles, etc.) for Mass, and rehearsed some of the music with the congregation. Perplexingly, Father still was not there. As the clock chimed 9 o’clock, and the moments passed, it became evident that he probably was NOT coming after all. The other priest, who was planning to concelebrate, offered to have the Mass for us. With no opportunity for much instruction as to where things were, or how things were done here, Father gave no sign that he’d never offered Mass for us before. Things went seamlessly. It struck me as beautiful that a priest can walk into a church anywhere and easily make his way through the liturgy there, with no prior experience of the surroundings or local customs. Much like the experience of being able to join in at a Mass while traveling on vacation, this experience reinforced the knowledge that we are all united in the Body of Christ. I went about my daily routine this morning, aware of the fact that it was, indeed, a somewhat significant date. The Shakespearean admonition, “Beware of the ides of March,” didn’t have much significance at first, but, as the day went on, it was all too relevant. After Mass, as I had just extinguished the candles and was putting things away, one of the candles near the altar flew off its holder and onto the floor, spilling hot wax everywhere in its wake (on the floor, wooden stand, and altar cloth)! I spent the little time allowed to me before 10 a.m. Bible study trying to get the wax off the various surfaces. There’s good reason I’m not terribly fond of candles! The day continued fairly smoothly for me until one of our Sisters didn’t come and didn’t come for lunch and for a commitment we had. I walked down to her office to check on what the holdup might be. She was on the phone with someone who was supposed to be helping her with a problem on her computer. It turned out that it was all a scam, and I spent most of the afternoon trying to secure her computer. I felt like I was going in circles! As I write this, the computer is still (after a couple of hours) reverting to “factory settings.” In the meantime, I had to change email passwords and take other precautions in case the hackers had tried to access important information. I’m not superstitious, and I mean this in complete jest, but the phrase “beware of the ides of March” will have much greater meaning for me in the future. |
Archives
May 2024
|