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.

As I made preparations in chapel yesterday after Mass, removing poinsettias, changing altar cloths and other adornments from green to violet, and ironing a Lenten banner I’d found buried in the bottom drawer in the sacristy, I really didn’t think I was getting ready for Easter.  However, on closer analysis, I find that, in a way, I was. 
 
This year, I was reminded anew that Lent isn’t just about “giving up something,” having somber music, and participating in other mortifications; it’s all for a greater purpose.  These days of penitence have a beautiful goal in mind: They are meant to help prepare us to enter into the celebration of the paschal mystery with heart and mind renewed. 
 
The annual commemoration of Jesus’ death and resurrection isn’t just another set of holidays on our calendar.  We are meant to experience it anew each year.  We are meant to delve into the depths of this mystery.  We can strive to live it as if we were there!
 
The Church, in her motherly wisdom, does not want us to rush heedlessly into these holy days, unprepared.  We are given this time of Lent (traditionally forty days, not counting Sundays) to get ready. 
 
This year, I have been struggling with how best to do this.  I don’t know exactly what I should be doing differently as a penance to prepare my heart for the upcoming holy days.  With the difficulties, stress and hardships of the past months, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been living in Lent already. 
 
Perhaps, though, along with efforts at better self-denial and the penances already incumbent with daily life, I am being called to another aspect of Lent this year. 
 
One image we are given in these early Lenten days is of Our Lord going out into the desert.  Perhaps, He is inviting us to come close to Him this season, drawing near to him in the desert of our own lives. 

Boy, did this morning’s reading from James hit the nail on the head!
 
Last night, I had made preparations for a possible trip down to our provincial house in Hankinson.  I was hoping to tie up loose ends on the website project.  Sr. Elaine had a board meeting scheduled there, and I was going to ride along with her, weather providing. 
 
We had been watching the weather and road reports to make a good decision as to whether or not we should go, due to wind and blizzard conditions yesterday. 
 
It turned out that we did not go, and I readjusted my schedule to stay put. 
 
Our titular passage (Jas 4:13-17) seemed so appropriate as I read it this morning during my prayer time, sitting in our chapel, and not preparing to leave on the anticipated trip. 
 
We should not say, “I will do this” or “I will do that.”  We had better say, “If God wills it, I will do this or that.” 
 
As a person who likes to have my carefully made plans all in order, this experience was another “teaching moment” for me.  It stretched me to lean more on His will than on my best laid plans.

Last week in Bible study, one of the songs we used was “Cornerstone.”  Its catchy melody and inspiring words kept circling ‘round in my head for days after. 
 
The words, “Through the storm, He is Lord…” have been coming back again the past day or so…It has been a rather stormy time. 
 
I find dealing with staffing shortages, and people who don’t carry through, stressful and overwhelming.  Last night, I found myself feeling tired, frustrated, and just fed up. 
 
Someone was supposed to come for training for a position we’ve been trying to fill.  She never showed up, and has not responded to messages or phone calls. 
 
What a disappointment!  I had been waiting for a few days for her to start, and hadn’t been as assertive in promoting the job opening because I was hopeful that she would “work out.”  
 
No such luck. 
 
Last night, the stormy weather was starting to get the better of me.  I felt like my boat was bogged and taking on water. 
 
However, through encouragement of a couple of others, I’ve been able to see some light through the dark storm clouds. 
 
I’ve realized that I probably can’t change the weather, but I can change my attitude.  I can try to look at the extra shifts I end up working as something to offer up to our Lord, in union with His own suffering. 
 
This doesn’t make the storm go away, but I’ll fare much better if I keep my eyes on Him, rather than complaining about the inclement weather. 
 
Prayers for a sailor on stormy seas would be greatly appreciated. 

Today, at the dinner table, one of our Sisters shared an experience she had had while filling in at the reception desk last evening. 
 
One of our residents came up, and wanted help taking off her sweater.  At first, Sister and she were going to go in our little library, but there was an outside window there and people would be able to view the private undertaking.
 
Instead, they used a storage room next store. 
 
It was quite the struggle, and Sister got a bit impatient.  The woman had some physical difficulties that made the process quite trying. 
 
Catching herself, Sister gave herself a little pep-talk: “What have you been reading about [in spiritual books] and talking about in your sermons to the residents on Sundays [at the ecumenical church services]?...You’re supposed to serve Christ in these people!”
 
A little while later, the woman was back again.  She wanted help putting on another clothing item. 
 
Laughingly, Sister recalled how she had quickly been given a chance to make amends for her previous impatience. 
 
She hadn’t needed to look for an opportunity because it fell into her lap!

Although February 2nd is better known as "Groundhog's Day," it has a far greater significance as the Feast of the Presentation, also known as Candlemass. 

Today, we celebrate the presentation of the Child Jesus in the temple when He was 40 days old.  It has also been designated as the Day for Consecrated Life. 

It is kind of a special day for me, personally, too.  Seventeen years ago today, I was received as a postulant in Hankinson. 

Please join me in prayer for an increase in vocations to the consecrated life, that more young people today may imitate Our Lord in this special way. 

I apologize that it’s been a little while since I posted here.  I’ve been down at our provincial house in Hankinson working on projects for the retreat center, and I didn’t have the password to the site.  If you’d like to check out the new website for the retreat center, just head over to sfcretreats.org.  New brochures will be available in the near  future as well. 
 
This was a very nice opportunity to get away and see our Sisters there, but it was also a bit sad. 
 
While I was there, Sister Edwardine Gerou died from cancer.  I was so grateful to have had the chance to see her these days. 
 
I just returned to Grand Forks less than an hour ago, and am now working a short shift at the reception desk. 
 
Your prayers for Sr. Edwardine and our community would be greatly appreciated. 

The psalm I prayed at night prayer Sunday evening (91) seemed to sum up a lesson that’s been on my heart lately:
“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High and abides the shade of the Almighty, says to the Lord, my refuge, my God in whom I trust.” 
 
The past months have been stretching me in the area of faith and trust, leading me to pray recently for an increase in these virtues. 
 
Then, over the weekend, someone suggested and passed on to me a special prayer of surrender and trust.  It has been a bit of a game-changer for me.  
 
I thought I was getting better at this whole “trust and surrender thing,” but events this evening let me know that I’m not there yet. 
 
However, I find encouragement in St. Paul’s words to the Philippians (1:6): “the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.”
 
I need to just keep coming back to Jesus and try to keep my eyes on Him.  I have been noticing, too, that when I start to surrender and trust more, my focus is set more on Jesus and less on myself and my problems. 

In this month of January, which is set to honor the Holy Name of Jesus, I am preparing a talk for our women's group on this topic.

Today is actually the optional memorial of the Holy Name of Jesus, which has long been held dear by the Franciscans.  We even got to use our red Franciscan supplement book today for the Liturgy of the Hours.

For this wonderful occasion, I would like to share a quote from the Catechism as well as several pertinent scripture verses which I found when doing research for my talk. 

I hope you find them fruitful, and encourage you to pray with them.

“But the one name that contains everything is the one that the Son of God received in his incarnation: JESUS. The divine name may not be spoken by human lips, but by assuming our humanity The Word of God hands it over to us and we can invoke it: "Jesus," "YHWH saves." The name "Jesus" contains all: God and man and the whole economy of creation and salvation. To pray "Jesus" is to invoke him and to call him within us. His name is the only one that contains the presence it signifies. Jesus is the Risen One, and whoever invokes the name of Jesus is welcoming the Son of God who loved him and who gave himself up for him.”  Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2666

Isaiah 9:6   For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
 
Mark 16:17-18   "In my name They shall take up serpents; and if they shall drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them: they shall lay their hands upon the sick, and they shall recover".
 
Matthew 1:21 “She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”
 
John 14:13-14 “Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask me anything in my name, I will do it.”
 
Luke 10:17   The seventy-two returned with joy, saying, “Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!”
 
Acts 3:6      But Peter said, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!”
 
Acts 4:12    And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.
 
Romans 10:13     For “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”
 
Phil. 2:10  “Though He was in the form of God, Jesus did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at.  Rather, He emptied Himself, taking the form of a slave…so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow” 
 
Colossians 3:17 "All whatsoever you do in word or in work, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ..." 

For Christmas, we each received a beautifully molded wire piece from a friend of our community, of the name of Jesus (pictured above).  I attached it to the gold trim on the ambo in our chapel for today's memorial.

Earlier this week, after my shift at the front desk and attending weekly care conferences, I went home for a much awaited job: setting up the nativity scene in our convent chapel. 
 
Ever since my childhood, I’ve been drawn to the crèche!
 
Back home, as we grew up, we had a special stable; my dad had made our wooden stable, and my mom had painted the ceramic figures.  We had real straw from our friends’ farm.  There are photos of me, sitting admiringly in front of the stable in our living room.  One time, if I remember correctly, my mom didn’t know where I was, and she found me there, quietly looking at the scene.  As we decorated, we would reenact the story of the first Christmas, putting the figures in place. 
 
I don’t get to help with all the decorating around here, and in the past, have missed not being able to put up the nativity set some years. 
 
I was glad to be able to do it again this year.
 
Thinking about it now, this life-long love for the manger scene fits in very well with my life, as I am part of a Franciscan community.  It was St. Francis, after all, who first (as far as we know) had the Christmas story reenacted at Greccio. 
 
As our constitutions say, “was captured by the love of Christ in the crib, on the cross, and in the Eucharist.”
 
I pray that St. Francis may intercede for us, and our world now, that we may grow closer to Christ each day, and become more and more like Him.

Yesterday was a busy day! 

After working the front desk, I held an activity for our residents.  We strung popcorn while listening to Advent/Christmas music. 

Toward the end, some humorous stories were shared.  We learned some things about each other that were prior unknown.  It was quite entertaining!

Some of the residents had never strung popcorn for the Christmas tree before, and for others, it had been a long time. 

When we were done and I was putting it on the tree, I was happy that we had just the right amount.  It came out perfect! 

This drew a prayer of gratitude from me as, by this time, I was quite tired, and glad to be done!

This afternoon, I went out for some much needed fresh air and exercise. 

As I walked the ten-block trek to the Church where I was meeting a friend for a "rosary walk," I found myself interiorly musing about the winter landscape. 
 
“It’s beautiful,” I thought to myself.
 
Not being one who especially loves winter or the cold, I kind of surprised myself by my grateful, positive attitude. 
 
Although it causes inconvenience and is not necessarily pleasant, snow certainly does have a beauty of its own.  When untarnished by human or animal activity, snow is so pure and clean. 
 
These musings, actually, were fitting on this the eve of the Immaculate Conception, as I prepared to celebrate this special feast of Mary. 
 
Pure white snow, after all, can be a beautiful and appropriate image for this solemnity.

It's a new year, liturgically speaking, as we mark the new "church year" with this season of Advent. 

Yesterday, after my other work duties, I had the job of changing over the chapel from Ordinary Time to Advent (a bigger job than one might guess).  There are so many little details, some of which are easy to forget, from the banner to the large altar cloth to the tabernacle decor to marking the missal and the lectionary.

I ran out of time for my "adventizing efforts" and had to stop for the read-aloud I do for our residents.  Afterwards, I came back and finished up. 

Having just celebrated Thanksgiving, I had a enhanced sense of gratitude this time as I went about my work.  Last year, we had not been able to use our chapel for Mass during Advent because of the covid situation.  I felt blessed to be able to, once again, prepare for Advent liturgies in our chapel at this beautiful time of year. 

I continue to pray for protection, that we may never return to the place we were last year. 
Come, Lord Jesus!

After a year in which I’ve often been inclined to sigh “how long?”, some words of Saint Teresa of Avila gave me a nudge to be grateful for the struggles I face:

• Hope, O my soul, hope. You know neither the day nor the hour. Watch carefully, for everything passes quickly, even though your impatience makes doubtful what is certain, and turns a very short time into a long one. Dream that the more you struggle, the more you prove the love that you bear your God, and the more you will rejoice one day with your Beloved, in a happiness and rapture that can never end.

So, in her mind, a finite period of suffering leads to an eternal increase in joys.  Pondering this makes it seem foolish to lament our struggles, but it’s hard to help it.  Even though we know there’s a bigger picture, it can be hard to see past our present pains. 
 
Thank God for His gift of hope!  I’ve actually been hearing a fair amount about hope lately.  It seems to be a popular theme across multiple venues. 
 
Hope is important.  It keeps us from discouragement, sustains us when abandoned, and opens our hearts in expectation of heaven (CCC 1818).  As the Catechism further tells us, our hearts are made to desire happiness.  Hope directs our hearts to seek heaven. 
 
Paul puts it well in 2 Corinthians 4:17-18: “For this momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to what is seen but to what is unseen.”
 
Hope lies in fixing our eyes on Jesus!  As the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews states: “since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us while keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus…” (Hebrews 12:1-2)
 
This leads us to another inspiration for hope: the lives of the saints.  They’ve gone through similar trials, yet endured in faith, hope and love.  Now, they are enjoying life forever in heaven!
 
But, how do we deal with the here and now?  How do we endure when it seems that one storm surge encroaches upon another?  How do we keep hope when we end up praying, day after day, for help with a situation?
 
I don’t pretend to have perfect answers to these questions…I have struggled with them, myself. 
 
However, I believe that part of the answer can be found in the upcoming celebration of Thanksgiving.  If we focus on the gifts that God gives us every day, rather than on the struggles, we can have a more positive outlook; we can be happier and more hopeful. 
 
It seems we would do well to follow the advice found in Romans 12:12: "Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer."

In looking forward to tomorrow’s Mass (1st) reading, I realized it was the very passage from Romans that I read at my grandma’s funeral over 20 years ago.
 
Brothers and sisters:
None of us lives for oneself, and no one dies for oneself.
For if we live, we live for the Lord,
and if we die, we die for the Lord;
so then, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.
For this is why Christ died and came to life,
that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living…(Rom. 14)
 
This reading seems especially fitting for this month of November, when we make a special point of praying for those who have died to help them on their way to heaven.
 
I recently read a quote from someone which said that when we (hopefully) get to heaven, we’ll be met by a throng of people who will thank us.  They are those who we’d prayed for while they were in purgatory. 
 
It sounds to me like a good way to get more “friends in high places” is to pray for those who have died.
 
This evening, when I teach Religious Ed, I am going to ask our first graders if they know anyone who has died.  We’ll then pray the Our Father (which they’re supposed to be learning) for these people. 
 
Recently, I was walking down the sidewalk, with bountiful fall leaves lying all around me (and more falling as I walked).  It struck me that it is with due reason that the Church chooses the month of November to pray for those in purgatory.  I realize that this custom may have flown out of the commemoration of All Saints and All Souls with which we begin the month.  However, there is a connection in nature which makes it appropriate as well.
 
Although the falling leaves are beautiful, they are a sign of what lies ahead.  The trees are becoming bare.  Soon, the ground will be covered with snow.  Days are becoming shorter.  In a way, it seems, the world is dying.  Soon, it will be resting in the sleep of winter.  What an appropriate time to think about (and pray for) those who have gone before us and to give thought to the end of our own lives!
 
As is illustrated above, some of the readings during these last weeks of the liturgical year also point to this.
 
I hope that someday, whenever the end of my own life may come, I will meet my grandma, and other loved ones again.  I might even get a thank you from them for the prayers I’ve said on their behalf.

Today was a day with less scheduled duties, but I still kept plenty busy!

We had two new residents come in this past week, and I had to meet with them to go through initial paperwork with them.  

Our activity director had also organized a wonderful Halloween party, complete with fun costumes for the residents and live music.  

Staff had been invited to dress up, too, but I hadn't gotten around to ironing my jack-o-lantern costume, which I've had since we made it in grade school.  

Sr. Elaine, though, had worn her traditional costume, dressing as a neat bum - or royal knight of the road - as she refers to the role.  

We actually got our residents out dancing, and I had to ditch the sweater I had tied around my waste because it wouldn't stay in place.  

Sr. Elaine had fun with this, too, especially with "The Monster Mash."  

I even caught her on video!  

This afternoon was a breath of fresh air after some stressful days!