This morning, as Father was praying the Collect, a phrase stood out to me: “The brave shepherd.”  In this prayer, he also referred to us as the humble flock and to Jesus as the brave shepherd. 
 
Brave isn’t an adjective that I usually associate with Our Lord, but it really should be.  As I thought about it more, I realized what heroic courage it must have taken for Him to undergo His passion and death willingly, when He easily could have said “No thanks; I don’t think I’m up for it.” 
 
This bravery of Jesus speaks to me as I am faced with challenging circumstances which are pretty much out of my control. 
 
How do I face difficult days?  Do I run to my room and hide, or do I turn to my “brave shepherd,” relying on His grace and strength. 
 
Unlike Him, left to myself, I do not have what it takes to deal with my crosses.  However, as I prepare for Pentecost, I am reminded to ask Him to send His “Spirit of wisdom and understanding…of right judgment and courage,…of knowledge and reverence” (Rite of Confirmation) to help me. 
 
I need this “Gift of God Most High” to guide, strengthen and sustain me on the journey to where “the brave Shepherd has gone before.”

This guiding, shepherding presence was certainly with me last night as, despite my weariness, I was intent on getting a little table with the Good Shepherd statue set up behind the office for today’s “Good Shepherd Sunday.” 

Sr. Rebecca had always done this before, and I hadn't been able to locate the soft green cloth that she used. 
 
Dealing with another situation that I had not bargained for (and about which I was less than excited), I happened to go with a coworker into Sr. Rebecca’s storage room. 
 
There, sitting out, was the lovely green cloth that she had always used (or one that certainly resembled it). 
 
I spotted it with delight! 
 
After a little work, I had it on the table and a decorative square cloth even in place.  It will stay there for several weeks, if not months!
 
Now, whenever I pass by this area, I can be reminded of the brave Shepherd, on whose grace and help I am completely dependent.

This has been an unusual week, with much for which to be grateful.  However, my gratitude list, in itself, might strike some as unusual.
 
Last Thursday, I was privileged to join two others of our Sisters on a trip to Mundelein, IL for the Institute on Religious Life’s annual meeting, a weekend of sessions to be enriched in our faith and vocation while meeting other religious from around the country.  It truly was a time away for which I was grateful.  The last time I had attended these sessions was as a postulant back in 2005, the weekend that Pope St. John Paul II died!
 
It was a lovely time, except for the fact that somewhere, along the journey, I managed to contract Strep throat.  I got suddenly sick on Sunday.
 
I was kind of in denial about the whole situation until last night.  My lack of energy was Improving and I thought I’d be on the mend, but, then, I woke up with terrible pain in my throat that told me that all was not well.  
 
“Maybe, I do have Strep,” I acknowledged.  
 
Early afternoon, I got into urgent care, and didn’t have to wait long.  After examining my throat, the doctor remarked something to the effect of: “I can run a culture if you want, but I’m quite sure it’s Strep.”  I needed no reassurance, and gratefully accepted a prescription for antibiotics.  
 
I was so grateful for a painless visit, quick attention, and for not even needed to get gagged!  
 
During these days since I’ve been back, I’ve had another cause of gratitude: In our convent here, my room is just down the hall from our chapel, where Jesus stays in our little tabernacle.  I find immense joy and consolation in the knowledge that He is so close.  
 
Even when I’m resting in bed, it is so consoling to remember His nearness, physically.  I am grateful.  
 
Having been away, and not in as close of proximity to Our Lord’s Eucharistic presence, tends to renew and increase my gratitude for this immense gift.  
 
I know that I daily receive countless blessings of which I am not even aware.  
 
I need to continue to remember to say “thank you” to Our Lord for His goodness to me.  

Saturday evening was a bit tough for me. 
 
I was pretty tired, after helping prepare and assist with the Holy Week liturgies, decorating chapel for Easter, dyeing eggs with our residents, and working my job at the reception desk.  (I’m not complaining, just stating facts.)
 
There was, however, to be no “early to bed” on this Night of nights. 
The Easter Vigil at the local parish church was to start at 8:30 p.m., and I was to do a reading. 
 
It was nice to only have one little responsibility after days of coordinating so many little details for liturgies at St. Anne’s.  Due to the late hour, we do not have a vigil here, where many of our residents retire early.
 
I walked the ten blocks to the church, navigating massive quantities of water from melting snow. 
 
Once the Mass started, I found myself struggling to stay attentive through the beautiful liturgy, though I was grateful to be there.  (I hadn’t had time to use the ladies’ room in advance, which did not help my efforts to keep focused.)
 
When the final ‘alleluias’ had been sung, we departed; night had fallen and so I rode back with my fellow Sister.
 
We got back to St. Anne’s and I finished preparing the chapel, placing the white cloth on the altar and adorning it with gold trim. 
 
I got into bed around midnight, thankful for being that far.
 
Easter Sunday ended up fairly busy as well, with various responsibilities. 
This morning, it was with continued satisfaction and joy that I returned our “Holy Week suitcase” to the sacristy cabinet, with cross veils, clapper, instruction sheets, and cross for veneration back inside again. 
 
As I had prayed, at the onset of Holy Week, for an open heart to enter into the mysteries at hand, I am now praying the same for this Easter season, which can also be difficult to enter into, since our minds which cannot grasp the wonder of it.