Growing up in Minnesota, we were told that you couldn’t have an open container of alcohol in a vehicle on the road, unless, of course, it was stowed away in the trunk. 
 
This ordinance (which is also in place in North Dakota, where I now reside) has never had ramifications in my life until just recently.
 
On Saturday, we traveled down to our provincial house, some two hours south, for a community meeting.  I so look forward to these day trips, which provide not only the chance to get away but also the opportunity to visit with our other Sisters. 
 
This time. I decided, with some encouragement from Sr. Rebecca, to bring my bottle down to show the other Sisters.  I don’t know what I should call it, vodka or vanilla. 
 
About a year ago, Sister Rebecca confiscated a bottle of vodka from one of our apartments, where tenants where getting into trouble.  My response was an excited ejaculation: “I can make vanilla!!” 
 
For some time, I had been hearing about how a person can make vanilla by adding vanilla beans to liquor.  This was the perfect opportunity to try it.
 
I didn’t have vanilla beans, and we weren’t going out shopping too much (Spring of 2020), so the bottle of booze sat untouched until I could get a hold of the needed vanilla beans. 
 
Then came the second week in June…My mom was passing through and spent the night with us on my birthday.  Previously, I had mentioned to her about the bottle of vodka and my intentions. 
 
For a birthday present, she brought me a package of vanilla beans.  We opened them and prepared them for insertion into the confiscated bottle. 
 
Ever since then, periodically, I’ve been taking it out of its place in the cabinet and swishing it around a bit to circulate the liquid. 
 
It is getting darker and smelling more and more like vanilla. 
 
It’s taken longer than I anticipated for it to process, but I’m guessing that this is probably because people in subsidized housing don’t buy the real expensive liquor.  Their check only would go far enough to cover cheap products.
 
Remembering the above ordinance from my childhood, I carefully stowed the precious bottle in a box, surrounded by rugs in the trunk of our car.  It made it safely down and back, without any trouble from the police.

I love spring! 
 
It’s my favorite season.  Now that winter’s over and I’ve regained most of my energy, I’ve gotten back into the wonderful habit of walking.  I’m not the only one who needs exercise, either; I often take Clare, the yellow lab, along. 
 
To my dismay, it seems like, all too often, she’s stopping to sniff something.  Usually, it looks like nothing more than a patch of grass or piece of debris.  I coax her on, “Come on, Clare, come on!”  She can be a real stinker! (No pun intended.)
 
This afternoon, however, the tables turned a little.  As we walked down the sidewalk, on the way to the parish office to pick up Sunday bulletins for our residents, I spotted a bush of beautiful lilacs. 
 
Now, it was my turn to stop and sniff! 
 
Clare looked at me as if to say, “What are you doing?!” 
 
Unfortunately, the lilacs in bloom were a little high up on the bush, and I couldn’t get a good sniff of them, especially with an impatient dog at hand.  I look forward, though, to seeing and smelling more of my favorite flowers in the days to come. 
 
Clare will have to be patient and wait for me!

The other evening, I got the chance to visit with a Sister from a different community.  She shared about prayers they say while dressing.  This reminded me of our own directives which encourage us to do this, and gave me a little nudge to try and be better at this practice. I do try to do this now, but definitely have room for improvement.

I decided to reach out and ask one of our own older Sisters if she remembered what prayers they used to say as they dressed.  Although she didn’t remember the exact prayers anymore, she did share her inspiring routine:

I do pray my own original ones as they come.  One goes like this: “O Lord, please clothe me with humility, gentleness, meekness, and kindness, Teach me the true spirit of poverty, chastity and obedience. Imbue me with the spirit of St. Francis and grant me the gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit.” [Then I pray] for whatever comes to mind. I also pray for people who have died, especially family members, relatives, friends, and fellow Sisters.  I pray for people by name…If time permits, I also pray to special saints for their intercession, and for living family and friends, especially those who need the graces to return to the Church and the Sacraments, and on and on, depending how much time I have.  A person can pray for many intentions in a short time; just try it.  Of course, I call on Mary to help to me to love Jesus more, and to do all for Him during the day.

This afternoon, a friend of our Sisters stopped over; she was fitting me for a new jumper.  Hopefully, by the time it’s ready, I’ll be into a good routine of using my time while dressing to orient myself and my day toward God, as well as intercede for the needs of the world.

Thursday evening, I wrote a little poem, musing about spring.  After yesterday’s adventure (taking the dog for a run with my bike--and taking a tumble), I added some additional verses. 
 
It’s not the world’s greatest piece of literature, but I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless.
 
This is a time of year, this spring,
for patience and for hope,
for seeing tiny blades of green
above the bear earth poke --
 
Heads stretching toward the sun
to get the rays they need
to grow into healthy plants
from tiny little seeds.
 
This is a time of year, this spring,
to thank our Lord above
for gifts of body and of soul
bestowed on us in love --
 
when walking down the sidewalk,
seeing birds in trees up high
or feeling needed drops of rain
fall gently from the sky.
 
This is a time of year, this spring,
when a skip come to my step
with winter gone and new life around
there’s cause for greater pep.
 
Still, temps may fall and rise again;
the greening may seem slow,
but this all can help me, too,
in patience now to grow.
 
This is a time of year, this spring,
to go through garage and shed,
and find the buried treasures
for the winter put to bed.
 
Yesterday, I did that,
bringing out my bike at last,
taking our dog out for a run,
though we didn’t go TOO fast.
 
This is a time of year, this spring,
for scrapes and tender knees;
at the end of yesterday’s jaunt
I acquired both of these.
 
I made an unexpected turn,
the leash on the handle bars,
And suddenly, I was on the ground,
almost seeing stars.
 
This is a time of year, this spring,
for lessons old and new,
some things we learned in childhood
are valid all life through!
 
Despite the falls that sometimes come
I never tire of trying
a new adventure out in fresh spring air,
But, later, I may be sighing.