Our dietary department is starting to have problems getting some food items normally on the menu here at St. Anne's, particularly certain meats and vegetables.

Somehow, in the course of discussing matters, our administrator shocked me by offering us a part of the yard as a vegetable garden.  I didn't see that one coming!

Several years ago, I had suggested the idea of having a small garden for our residents, allowing them the opportunity to "dig around in the dirt" and enjoy watching things grow.  Permission want granted, a bit reluctantly perhaps (She didn't know if we could count on our residents to follow through with helping.)   We were given an old-fashioned bathtub to use.

Perhaps a couple of years later, I came home from being away to see two beautiful raised garden beds out on the east patio - an early birthday present made by a neighbor friend of the Sisters at the lake house. 

Last year, when someone donated strawberry plants, more raised beds were found on sale and given to us to allow more garden space.

Now, we are expanding again; the space we're getting certainly won't feed everyone here for weeks or months on end, but hopefully it will help a little. (It’s about 8’8” x 12’6”.)

This past weekend, I didn't get much embroidery done; I was busy mapping out my plans for the various small raised gardens and the newly promised garden patch in our back yard.

Monday morning, our maintenance men had to run out to Menard's to pick up various supplies, so I rode along to visit their garden center.  Picking out seeds was more challenging this year with my vision partially blocked by a face mask (not my favorite piece of apparel).  Thankfully, I had carefully figured out which vegetables (and how many) we would be planting.  It was, however, still a tricky task.

I got back home and that afternoon and the next day, I got the seeds planted which I wanted to give a head start (tomatoes, broccoli, herbs, and onions).  We don't plant outdoors before mid to late May.

Over a few days’ time, I had collected and rinsed about 80 half-pint milk cartons from our residents' dining room (actually, staff were very helpful and saved most of these for me.)  The cartons are lined up on plastic trays.  If there is danger of frost, I will bring them indoors.

The cartons are filled with dirt, complete with little incisions for water drainage, and little seeds are now preparing to peek their heads out. 

I'll be watching to see when they emerge (in a week or two). 
 
This experience of preparing to garden has been good for me, especially at this time of pandemic and crisis, when the world is so different and when so much stress and uncertainty faces our world. 
 
It is beautiful to be able to take part in the wonder of God’s gift of the natural world; it’s exciting to prepare and wait for new life to start!

This morning, I had a little extra time in my schedule and decided to go out for a good walk.  This past Saturday, I had been out for about an hour, and the experience had thoroughly refreshed and encouraged me.  I know that exercise is important, even during a pandemic!

On this morning's walk, I had multi-tasked (as I often do) getting my rosary in as I trekked the familiar route. 

When I arrived back on the St. Anne's campus, a resident who also was outside at the time greeted me, while also providing feedback on my attire: "Those boots kill the dress."  She was just being friendly and throwing in a little humor...I didn't mind her lack of appreciation for the fashion statement I had unwittingly made. 

I can't help if my wonderful boots that my mom gave me last fall don't match with the jumper I was wearing, in this lady's mind.  With water on the streets and sidewalks, there was no prudent alternative. 

Besides, "these boots were made for walkin'!"

This morning, during the Mass live-streamed from the local parish church, my ears delighted on hearing the notes of the "Easter Alleluia," as Sister Elaine calls it.  (This particular musical setting was used at the Easter vigil when she was young.)

Other than at last weekend's Masses, this was the first time I had heard the alleluia sung for several weeks.  (We don't get much of that during Lent, you know.)

It was so beautiful to here this joyful song of praise amidst the turbulent times we are facing. 

Here we were, watching the Mass on a large screen (in a gathering of less than ten people), still singing this age-old canticle of praise.  Long ago, the psalmist sang this ejaculation, lifting up heart and voice in thanksgiving. 

This morning's alleluia was a fitting reminder to me, during a twenty-first century pandemic, that it is truly "right and just" at all times to give thanks and praise!

What a Holy Week!

Over the past nine years, I have become accustomed to a very busy, pressured Holy Week as I work to set up and organize for liturgies in our chapel at St. Anne’s.  Our first year of doing this (after Sr. Annella left for health reasons) was especially daunting, as we strove to figure out what we were doing. 

After that, we put together a “Holy Week Instruction Sheet,” complete with items needed (and their storage location), liturgical ministry roles, etc. which we referred back to each year.  This made life easier, but this beautiful time of the Church year has continued to be very involved.  People outside have no idea what all is entailed in setting up for these liturgies!

This year, however, is proving to be very different.  Now, instead of preparing candles, helping appoint people for various roles, marking the missal, etc., my job has become that of setting up equipment (computer, projector, and screen) and dealing with internet connection problems for live-streaming the Mass from St. Michael’s.  By the time this pandemic is all over, we should have all the glitches ironed out, right?

Amid so many things being different this year, I decided to maintain one tradition: making hot cross buns to serve to our residents Holy Thursday afternoon.  As I type this, the crossed buns (fruits of yesterday’s labors) are set out on trays, covered with parchment paper, awaiting their demise at afternoon snack-time.  (Hopefully, there will be a few left over for us to enjoy at supper tonight.)

Even the bun-making took a twist this year, though!

I had decided to try using frozen sweet dough this year, but found out upon reading the package that each loaf in the pack of three only served nine – I had thought it would be twelve.  This left me short of the amount of buns I hoped to make.  Sr. Elaine, however, offered that there were some frozen cinnamon rolls (un-raised, un-baked) in the freezer that I could use if that would help.  I decided to give it a try, and asked her to pull them out and keep them in the fridge for me overnight as I was working at the front desk late. 
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In the morning, I pulled out the frozen bread dough to thaw as well.  After working my shift at the front desk and having lunch, I started on my buns.  I decided to begin with the rolls, since they were more thawed.  I didn’t want them to raise too much before I accomplished my transformative efforts.  Since they were still very cold, they were hard to work with.  However, I managed to unwrap three of them, removing much of the filling and then kneading them into buns.  I left the other dozen in the pack of fifteen in the fridge.  I would see how many buns I got out of the frozen dough.

I made up the first dough loaf into buns, and set the cookie sheet to rise.  After care conferences, I continued with the rest of the dough, ending up with a total of 30 buns.  Satisfied with this quantity, I decided to leave the rest of the rolls intact, and ended up making a pan of caramel rolls with them.  (The other Sisters can enjoy some of them for Easter Sunday.) 

Waiting for buns and rolls to rise can be an exercise in patience! 

After baking the buns and letting them cool, I made a cross with frosting on each one. 
By the end of the day, when I finally came home and settled in for our “community study night,” my feet were telling me it was time for a rest!

Last night, as we were finishing vespers (Evening Prayer) in our chapel, the burning sanctuary lamp caught my eye.  Although it was as simple thing (a candle in a red globe mounted on a wall), it was rich in meaning.  The little flame spoke volumes, reminding me of the wondrous fact that Jesus remains with us in our tabernacle.  Though the world seems to be spinning out of control, His sure and constant presence is there for us to fall back on. 
 
At a time when so many people have to be distanced from the sacraments due to this pandemic, I feel more than ever the blessing of working in a Catholic facility and living in a convent.  Both at home and at work, I am privileged to have Jesus physically close by, and I still get to receive Him each day.  (I’m spoiled, I know.)
 
At this difficult time, I need the strength given by our “daily Bread,” Jesus Himself.  I need His patience, His wisdom, and His love to penetrate the rest of my day. 
 
At this time when there are so many restrictions and nothing is normal, the steady flame of the candle in our chapel reassured me that Some-ONE is constant and dependable in the midst of it all.  I’m so grateful that we still have a candle!