What a day!  My feet are telling me, "You've worked us too hard!"  (I guess that's what I get for wearing not-so-comfy shoes for yardwork.)

Yesterday, I decided to pull everything from "Mary's Garden."  I'll admit, it wasn't a bountiful harvest.  The soil was quite compact, despite all the TLC we'd given it.  I won't go off on that tangent, or we'll have another story all together. 

Despite my frustration and disappointment, I was determined to make next year a better season for our growing things.  Someone had donated a tiller this past summer, and I had charged up the battery for the big job it had ahead.  I also have a compost bin ready to spread over the garden before covering it with fall leaves for the winter.

I had never used a tiller before, and I had a clumsy start.  I needed repeated coaching sessions from our dear maintenance assistant on loading the battery and getting the thing to go.  (For one thing, I didn't realize I had to press the safety lock at the same time as I pinched the handle.)  Maybe I should get a “Rookie of the Year” award.

I finally got the thing to start, and was (halfway) successfully tilling the garden bed.  The tiller was a bit jerky, and less than obedient to where I wanted it to go.   The name for this new piece of equipment came to me readily as I worked: henceforth, it would be called "Bucky."

Well, my friend Bucky got a little feisty on me.  I was trying to be careful not to get too close to fencing or other obstacles, but the hungry little bugger set his teeth into some chicken-wire before I knew what was happening! 

Once again, humiliated, I had to call upon my patient co-worker to get it out from the tiller's tines.  In the meantime (he was busy with another project), I went on with my day and got a few other tasks finished in the office. 

By late afternoon, I was back out in the garden again, this time even more careful to keep Bucky away from hazardous materials.  After going over the garden a few times with my "friend," I decided to work at the soil myself with a hoe. 

In the process, I found some more root vegetables, small in size due to unfavorable growing conditions.  Bringing them inside and washing them in a pail, I put them together with those I had found yesterday.  I prepped them for roasting in the oven and also cut open one or two small acorn squash.  I stuck them all in the oven, hoping they'd be tender by suppertime. 

I realized that I still had some unfinished business outside.  Bucky wasn't put inside yet for the night, and the tomato cages were still leaning up against the building.  I put things away and came back inside in time for supper. 

Now, Bucky is sitting the garage near my bike, waiting expectantly for his next rodeo.  It might be a long winter for him, but at least he got a good workout today!

This beautiful time of year is rich in so many memories, so many wonderful times with family and friends, along with the beautiful colors of the leaves that are now starting to fall from the trees.  

It’s also the time for high school “Homecoming.”  However, this year, I’m sure events are being curtailed or modified due to the Coronavirus.  

Nonetheless, this week, I had my own sort of homecoming.  I was invited to come down to our provincial house in Hankinson to help with our community’s newsletter.  It’s been a while since an issue came out.  

I had never worked on layout for this particular newsletter before (although I had written a few articles for it over the years), so it was a new experience.  It was a fun challenge to undertake, though.

I arrived at the convent about 1 p.m. Tuesday, and, after bringing my bags upstairs, met right away with the Sister whom I was to help with this project.  

After an afternoon of work, it was time to join the other Sisters in the chapel for the rosary and vespers.
 
As I walked into the large chapel and found the pew that I have been using during recent visits, a sense of homecoming came over me. 
 
This was the place where I had begun my formation for religious life, and where I had made my vows.  It was the place that I had first visited as a 24 year-old, not too long out of college. 
 
While it was not the house I grew up in, as a “Hankinson Franciscan,” it is a sort of spiritual home.  
 
I am grateful to God for bringing me here, for guiding my along my life’s path, and calling me to this amazing (if, at times, challenging) vocation. 
 
I pray and trust that He will continue to be with me on this journey; I hope, too, that one day I may have a final homecoming in heaven. 

Oh; what a week I’ve had!  It’s been Crazy, with a capital C! 
 
A situation came up for me last Thursday (without going into detail) where I felt I was being treated both unjustly and without good common sense.  It has continued all week, unfortunately. 
 
While I’ve been struggling with feelings of anger, and trying to sort through things, Sunday’s readings have definitely given me a strong nudge away from harboring a grudge. (I’ll have to keep working at this!)  The first reading from Sirach exhorted: “Forgive your neighbor’s injustice; then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.”  Then the gospel of the unforgiving servant drove the message home. 
 
Monday’s feast of the Exultation of the Holy Cross shed even more light on this lesson of forgiveness: If Jesus, hanging on the cross, cried out: “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do,” how can I harbor a grudge against others, whose offense dims in the light of all that Christ suffered for us! 
 
Yet, at the same time, I know He understands my pain, my situation.  He is with me when I feel angry.  Also, he’s carried it all already.
 
At Monday’s Mass, after communion, I sang the beautiful chant “Adoramus Te, Christe,” having committed it to memory during Holy week a couple of years ago.  The words that really touched my heart now where: “redemesti mundum,” “[because by your Holy Cross] You have redeemed the world.”
 
At Mass, I am able to offer this suffering, this feeling of injustice, this frustration, united to the cross of Christ.  It is wondrous to realize that “he’s got this!” This crazy situation in the world, and in my life, is already incorporated into His paschal mystery. 
 
No matter how dark things may look, we can remember that he has redeemed the world.
 
Adoramus Te, Christe!

Our Lady of Sorrows, Help of Christians and Cause of our Joy, please pray for us!

Although he's not a patron of mine, or a saint of our Franciscan order, today's memorial of St. Peter Claver has resonated with me during my adult life. 
 
On this feast, which I also remember as the birthday of the sister of my best friend from childhood, my mind tends to go back to a visit I made with the St. Peter Claver Sisters, who had a house a little ways away from my home.  When I was first exploring religious life in my early twenties, I spent a day or two with them for a brief experience of life as a Sister.  I even volunteered a little for them afterward, helping with a writing project for their Echo magazine.  I pray for both these Sisters and the sister of my friend on this memorial.
 
In his homily today, Father mentioned the aid, physical and spiritual, that St. Peter gave to the African slaves as they arrived in Colombia.  I was reminded of the movie Roots, which I saw as a child or early teen.  It definitely made an impression on me; I can still remember seeing footage of captives in the terrible conditions of the slave ship, practically piled on top of each other.  It was only years later that I learned about the Saint who met these poor people and shared Christ’s love with them. 
 
St. Peter Claver’s example of charity is a reminder to me of the call to love those who the world might see as “the least of my brothers.”  This gospel call aligns with our mission to the elderly and disabled here at St. Anne’s.  Today, if I let it, can serve as an examination of conscience and an impetus to do better in my own life. 
 
An amazing fact about St. Peter Claver, also mentioned in today’s homily, is that he baptized about 300,000 people during his 40 years of service to the African captives.  According to my calculations, this means that about twenty people a day were brought into God’s family through his ministry!
 
St. Peter Claver, please pray for us!