Today is a special day, the feast (solemnity) of St. Joseph, within the year of St. Joseph!  Wow, that’s quite the occasion!  For this special day, a friend of ours brought over a beautiful, if smelly, bouquet of roses to put by his statue.  Since Mass is not currently in our chapel, but in another location, I brought a smaller statue of this special man over from the convent. 
 
As I left Before Mass, I brought the roses over to the spot, where I had set up a stand for the statue.  It looked nice, and helped make the day special.  We also sang the entrance antiphon, Gloria, and some other Mass parts, which was nice as well. 
 
After Mass, we started talking about the repercussions of having a solemnity on a Friday during Lent.  We were quite sure that the day’s status as solemnity (pretty much the highest rank on the Liturgical calendar) trumped the normal rule of Lenten Friday abstinence.  As I told another Sister, “I’m about 98% sure, but there’s a 2% uncertainty margin.” 
 
We decided to call the local parish, where the deacon confirmed our suspicions.  So, we think we’re safe in eating meat today.  I’m personally, not a real meat lover, but that’s beside the point, I guess.
 
With the COVID precautions, our social outings have been pretty much eliminated this past year.  In fact, we still have some gift cards for Panera (as well as other establishments) in a chest of drawers at our convent.  Sr. Elaine had the “scathingly brilliant” (as we like to say in fun) idea of making use of this tonight. 
 
I wondered what was on the menu here, what we would be missing if she stopped by Panera. 
 
Upon walking over to the dining room window, where the weekly menu is displayed, I learned that our dietary staff will be serving “Creamed Tuna over Toast.” 
 
Oh my!  With very little reluctance, in honor of the solemnity, I will abstain from that delicacy.

Happy Feast Day!

This morning, I was reading for Mass.  After the first reading, I glanced down and saw the words of Psalm 95.  Due to extenuating circumstances, I hadn’t prepared the readings.
 
On looking at the familiar passage, it was all I could do to keep from singing the psalm!  Due to my work schedule, I’d missed singing the responsorial here this past weekend, so I felt musically deprived. 
 
The musical setting I know for today’s psalm is so beautiful! 
 
Come, let us sing joyfully to the Lord, let us kneel before the Rock of our Salvation,; let us come into His presence with thanksgiving; let us joyfully sing songs to Him.
 
I guess, in a way, this psalm, with its exhortations to ‘sing to the Lord’ was especially appropriate today.  As we waited for Father, we spontaneously decided to sing a couple of hymns.  After “Amazing Grace” and “Be Thou My Vision,” it was time for Mass!
 
It was so good to sing together again.  We hadn’t had Mass here as regularly of late, and this form of “praying twice” (to use a phrase attributed to St. Augustine) felt so good to have here again! 
 
This beautiful psalm was also appropriate on a deeply spiritual level.  As Father mentioned in his homily, it referred to the hardening of one’s heart.  He reminded us that this is a danger we should be aware of and pray against.
 
“If today you hear His voice, harden not your heart!”

The long-awaited time has come!  Last night, I got access to the seed catalog from NDSU that I’ll be using for some of my seeds for Mary’s Garden and the patio raised beds.  Looking through it and trying to decide what to plant and where reminded me of a little story Sr. Edwardine had shared when I was at our provincial house last week.
 
Sister Edwardine wanted some good manure fertilizer for their garden.  Someone brought them a load of cow pies that were as hard as rocks, and difficult to break up.  Creativity is not in short supply when it comes to Sr. Edwardine, and this time was no exception!  As she thought about how to work smarter - not harder - to break up those pies, she recalled they had a woodchipper that had been in storage for quite some time; she thought that maybe the cow pies would break up like wood chips.
 
So, they brought out the woodchipper and tried running some cow pies through it; it worked well, but all the pies were landing in one pile in the garden. The chips exit through a chute and are directed onto one spot on the ground.   So, Sister Edwardian had the idea to remove the board in front of the chipper that controlled the chute.  Lo and behold, the chute moved freely in any direction and, in no time flat, their garden was covered in cow pie chips!
 
As we lose a lot of snow and get excited for spring, it would be nice if we had such creative conveniences.  However, I don’t have any manure to worry about.  I’m going to start saving eggshells, banana peels, and coffee grounds again, though.

~ By Sister Christina with Cindy Flath

The past few months have been a bit challenging for me, and countless others, I'm sure.

I was down for the count in mid-December, and still have some lingering issues.  Along with periodic sore throat, continued fatigue still plagues me, though it is better than it was.

So, whereas I used to get up often at 5:15 a.m., allowing for an hour of prayer to start off my day, these days, I end up pushing off my rising time about an hour, just barely sneaking into chapel before our Morning Prayer of he liturgy of the hours. 

I fit in the hour of privite prayer called for in our constitutions before the day is over (sometimes in pieces), but it's just not quite the same as starting the day with prayer. 

I loved coming into our chapel, in the quiet stillness of early morning, when no one else was there yet, and praying through the day's Mass readings, etc. 

I guess I shouldn't say that "no one else was there," because the One who goes before me (Deuteronomy 1:30, Psalm 139:5, Isaiah 52:12) is already there "waiting," you might say. 

Last night, for some reason, I thought of this and it hit me: "I miss our early morning visits."  My days felt more grounded when I started them with this extended time of prayer. 

Maybe, this time of reduced energy has given me an even greater appreciation for these quiet times. 

When I was home with my mom, I didn't have as much of a chance to pray before the Blessed Sacrament.  This deficiency, too, in its own way, can deepen my appreciation for the immense blessing of having Jesus physically present with us in our convent and at our workplace.

Writing this is a reminder to me to be more grateful for this enormous gift. 

Hopefully, before too long, I'll be able to resume early morning visits with a renewed appreciation for them!

This week marks the anniversary of Sr. Adeline Nathe's death (a date I remember especially since it coincided with my paternal grandmother's)

I typed up Sr. Adeline's memories as a postulant, in May of 2006, and will share this below.

First, here is the chronology from her various apostolates.

Graduated from St. Francis Academy 1944
Wrote Teachers’ exam because ND had shortage of teachers.
1944-45    Taught my 1st year at Little Flower School, Rugby, ND.  Grades 3-4
1945-46    Attended Alverno College, Milwaukee
1946-47    St. Boniface, Lidgerwood, ND.  3, 4, 5, and 6
1947-48    Selz Public School 5, 6, 7, and 8
1948-53    St. Francis Academy    Grades 5-6
Boarder Boys {reflect - Grades 1 - high school
1953-56    Little Flower School - 8th grade
Superior of convent
1956-62    Business Manager - Hankinson, ND - ... Provincial Council
1962-65    Gettysburg Memorial Hospital - administration
1965-66    Alverno College - Graduated in 1966
1966-68    Little Flower School
1965-69    Holy Family School Grand Forks - 8th grade principal
1969-74    Religious Ed. Coordinator at St. James Religious Center, Grand Forks - St. Michaels, St. Mary and Holy Family
1974-95    Pastoral Care Ministry - St. John’s Parish - Wahpeton
1995-05    Receptionist at St. Francis Motherhouse in Hankinson, ND

MISSION EXPERIENCES

1944    Rugby: Little Flower School - Grades 3-4
Little Flower School was my first mission experience in 1944.  It was my first teaching experience because of a teacher shortage in North Dakota.  Those of us who had just graduated from high school were asked to study for a state exam.  After we passed it we were permitted to teach one year in North Dakota.  I received a State Teaching Permit.  I arrived in the school term of 1944-45.  I had a delightful teaching experience with children in grades three and four.  Msgr. Nicholas Cloos was the pastor.  People in Little Flower Parish and School along with Father Nicholas Cloos happily welcomed me.  On his first day of St. Nicholas, it was his tradition on December 6 to gather all the children in school to the gym for his famous “peanut throw.”  He would stand on the stage and through bags of peanuts to the children who mad a mad scramble to collect as many peanuts as possible, amidst loud shouts and squeals of glee.  With God’s blessing and grace, it was a delightful teaching experience.  

1945-46    Alverno College in Milwaukee, Wisconsin in the year 1945 was a rich inspirational study in elementary education.    1945-46;  1965-‘66     Returned to Alverno College to complete my Elementary Degree with Sr. Genevieve, Sr. Thomasine, Sr. Jane Francis and Sr. Armella.  Graduated in 1966.  

 
1946-47    St. Boniface School, Lidgerwood, ND was my next mission with Sister Sr. Seraphica, Sr. Engetraud, Sr. Frieda and Adeline.  I had the 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th grade classroom  Father Patrick O’Connell was the Irish Pastor...
We Sisters lived on the second floor of the school.  Chapel, living and bedroom quarters.  Also on the same floor were our boarder students.  
Grades 3, 4, 5, 6
Fr. O’Conell Pastor
Sr. ...  Engeltraud, Sr. Seriphica, Sr. Freida
We had several families whose children were boarders with us.  

1946-48 - Selz-Public School Grades and High School
Grade 5, 6, 7, 8
Sister Judith, Sr. Thomasine, and Adeline
Parish: St. Anthony
Housekeeper: Eva Schwan
Religion classes after the Mass on Sunday.
[I remember]...walking to school in fresh cold country ...over high snow banks for a real workout.  

Sr. Adeline was in charge of grades 5, 6, 7, and 8 in Selz, North Dakota Public School with Sr. Judith, Sr. Thomasine and Sr. Bega as housekeeper.  
Pastor- Father Othmar,    Housekeeper Eva Schaan
Memories - Sundays in church men on one side, women and children on other side.  Sermons- one in German, one in English with Religion Classes after the Mass.  
Snow banks were our mountains to climb.  A real workout.  Our water supply for laundry or bathing or cleaning was an outdoor cistern with ropes and pails to bring the water up and carry indoors to heat in large copper boilers.  It was the good old days.  The year after I was gone the ND law forbid us to teach in the public school in a religious garb.  The staff of sisters had to wear secular clothes.  With great sacrifice the sisters did comply with it.  Now the ruling has been repealed.  

1948-53    St. Francis Academy
It was a new challenge for me with grades 5-6 and being prefect of Boarder Boys from grade 1-12.  About 24 from nearby states and some remaining with us for the weekends.  We all crowded in our small chapel for early morning Mass with Father Smalley.  The boys came from good families and were very supportive to me.  My students were the greatest and still keep in touch and I keep them all in my prayers.  
Resident boarder prefect - grades 1-high school.  34 boys.   Taught grades 5-6

1953-56 Teacher - superior - Rugby
Teaching 7th and 8th grades - return and superior

 
1956-62    Business Manager at St. Francis Academy and Convent including the farm.  It was a huge challenge until Sr. Irma and Sr. Ria’s assistance I took on the challenge on Provincial Council offices.  

1962-65    Administrator - Gettysburg Hospital
I was asked to take on administration in Gettysburg, SD for the hospital.  Dr. Urbani was the orthopedic doctor from Hungary.  Dr. Collins family physician.  Great community of people of support and love.  in 1958 by Dr. Urbani.  My kidney surgery a month later.  Loved all the patients and community
Memories of orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Urbani
Had spinal fusion there in 1958 as well as kidney surgery a month later

1966-68 - principal and teacher - Rugby - LFS
Grades 7 and 8.

1968-69    Principal - Holy Family School, 8th grade

1969-74    St. James Religion Center - Grand Forks.  
Sr. Adeline Nathe was invited to join the Religion Education Staff at St. James center in Grand Forks to serve as coordinator for all three parishes - St. Michael, St. Mary’s, and Holy Family.  Classes were conducted for 60 CCD teachers, supervising classes where 900 children attended once a week, developed class for the handicapped and students.
Great, rewarding experience with the staff, teachers, priests, and children who were enriched by all the faith learning experiences.  
Coordinator of Elementary Religious Ed. of the parishes.  A wonderful time for study, enrichment, and growth with the priests and staff.  Teacher participation classes, classes for the blind and handicapped.  

1974 - I accepted a position in St. John’s Catholic Church in Wahpeton in pastoral care with Fr. George ..., beloved pastor ...
My pastoral care involved:
Eucharistic Liturgies - sacristy ... Eucharistic Minister
Lector
Taught convent classes
Baptism Classes
Assisting at services at 3 and ... St. Francis medical center
Visiting and pray with sick and dying
Attended support groups.  
Attended church organization meetings
Hospice Volunteer
Compassionate Friend
Assisted with pre-marriage preparation
nursing home
St. Francis Medical Center
 
Greatest reward of my life being at working with the grassroots and its people in St. John’s in their celebrations of liturgies, sacraments, weddings, funerals, baptisms.
Pastoral Care Ministry.  A joy to be with the grassroots of the parish in their faith growth celebration of the sacraments, illness crises, and ... in M.S., sympathy, cancer and loss support groups.  21 years in parish ministry in St. John’s.  What a blessing for me.  

1995 -    St. Francis Convent
Because of my impaired eye sight I had to “let go” of being in parish ministry in St. John’s, Wahpeton, to let go of the people, convent home, ... and staff I worked with.  I was blessed that I had a convent home to come to where I receive all the benefits of community living - daily Mass, Divine Office together, meals, a private room and the joys of recreation together.  I was offered the position of receptionist at the convent switch board.  It keeps me on the alert with conveying all the communication with the phone and door bells.  With my magnifying glass I still enjoy reading as well as music, listening to religious tapes or language tapes like one in German.  I praise God for the dawning of each new day and accepting God’s will as He plans.  

Vacation School
From 1944 on, I taught vacation school for 2-3 weeks each summer in the following places:
Kintyre - St. Boniface - second time
Napoleon - St. Philip’s
Forman - St. Mary’s
Cogswell - Our Lady of Mercy
Wyndemere - St. John’s
Mooreton - St. Anthony
Mantador - Sts. Peter and Paul
Fingal
Bisbee
Knox
Lidgerwood

ADDITIONAL STORIES

From St. Boniface Church’s Anniversary Book (1905-2005) ~ “Memories from Sisters”
Some of us Franciscan Sisters from Hankinson ND traveled as passengers on the Soo Line train.  We packed our lunch for it was a slow long ride.  The train stopped at all the small towns along the way to Napoleon to pick up cream cans and freight en route.  At our arrival, Fr. Lawrence Widman from Kintyre was there to welcome us (Sr. Hildeburg and Sr. Adeline) the summer of 1944.  Sr. Hildegurg had the upper grades and Sr. Adeline had the little ones.  The little ones could only speak German.  I was grateful that I came from a German speaking family background so I could communicate with them.  
 
On Saturday morning Sr. Hildeburg and I were cleaning the altar and sanctuary.  It was a cool windy day.  All of a sudden, caught unaware a tornado struck St. Boniface Church with a terrific crash.  The steeple was lifted off and crushed beside the church.  Sr. Hildeburg and I dashed in the aisle but the east entrance was closed now.  We ran to escape to the sacristy door, but the chimney had fallen in.  The entire church was billowing and vibrating; the station of the cross moved.  The dust from the ceiling settled down.  We knelt at the altar steps and prayed for God’s protection.  So much pressure was in the building, we were sure it would all collapse on us.  Divine Providence spared our lives.  Then we wondered if Fr. Lawrence Widmann and Rosalia Roehrich were alright.  Because of all the pressure in the church, I could only open the north window a crack.  The windows in the rectory were all broken and the curtain and drapes were flying out.  Some time later, Father Widmann came to the sacristy door and was glad to see us alive.  He explained as he came to the church that the tornado pressure and wind had picked him up and carried him unto a field.  He was out of breath and said “I lost my hat!”  He never did find it.  We praised God for our safety and for sparing St. Boniface Church and parish rectory.  

I have always had a great admiration for the deep faith commitment of the people in St. Boniface parish.  They model an exemplary living Gospel faith, passing their Catholic faith on to their children.  We were welcomed in their homes as well as sharing their faith experience with us.  

June 15-16, 1953    Wishek, ND
Sisters Patricia, Leonida, Anita, Jane Frances, and Adeline completed their two weeks of catechizing in Napoleon and Kintyre, ND.  They met together and boarded the train in Napoleon about eleven o’clock.  In a short time they arrived at Wishek where they had to wait for a train coming in.  Before the train arrived, the windows streaming with rain, with loud cracks of thunder and lightening.  Rain came down in buckets, water was rising, Cows came swimming by the train.  Cars were covered to their fenders and over, steps from houses floated by.  The edge of the town was becoming a lake.  

One of the men on the train crew, came in drenched like a rat, and reported: “We can’t go any farther.  The tracks are washed out for miles.  Better make a run for the Soo Line Depot.”  We offered to stay in the train ... the train staff they would have to remain.  

Clutching their baggage, the Sisters scrambled out through all the water into the 2-story from depot.  “You Sisters can be upstairs where there are a few empty rooms for the night,” the depot agent said.  The Sisters climbed the stairs and looked out from the windows.  Wishek by this time was in the middle of a lake…The nightmare of a cloud burst and flash floods.  Anything was possible.  The rain continued to pour out as if ushering a second Great Flood.  

     The Depot agent and his wife thoughtfully and kindly invited us for their evening meal with the little food available.  We felt truly blessed by their offer.  Returning upstairs for the night, we five Sisters prayed fervently for the storm and rain to abate.  We continued to pray during the night.  The next morning to our joy and thanks to God, the rain and storm had abated .  The sun was shining.  
 
Our dilemma now was ... to return to our Motherhouse in Hankinson.  We were all scheduled to leave by train in another day to attend College in Milwaukee .We called for Father Veit’s wisdom.  We were stranded here in Wishek depot.  Train tracks all washed out, roads under water.  Fr. Veit called Mr. Sherman, one of his parishioners ... if he could bring us part of the way  and ...someone meet us on the other side of the flooded area.  We’d have to wade through the water, for the road at one point was impassible.  I still praise and thank God for Mr. Sherman risking his life for us - even to ... a washed out bridge with men laying planks over the space for the car wheels to pass over.  He asked us to pray for safety.  The angels were with us.  We crossed over- then drove through to the roads under water.  Father came from Napoleon even.  We lifted up our Sisters’ habits, and waded through with all our luggage.  

At Father Veit’s parish rectory Ann had made lunch for us.  Fr. Veit said he had intended to go home on vacation to Mooreton that day but changed his mind in our predicament.  “I’ll take you home today.”  It meant were going north to I-94 - all other roads to Mooreton and Hankinson were impassible.  

God’s Divine Providence was with us all the way in the people he sent in our need.  The next day we were on the train bound for college in Milwaukee for summer school.  

I finally made it back to Grand Forks, after over three weeks away (due to extenuating circumstances).  A number of tasks awaited me, and I set to work unpacking and getting caught up. 
 
One situation that needed prompt attention was a shortage of Hosts.  Due to other circumstances, we have not been able to have daily Mass here the last couple of weeks.  In order to offer Communion for our residents (who are unable to go out for Mass), something needed to be done. 
 
I called the pastor of our parish and we made arrangements to remedy this. 
While I had been away, the new brochures which I’d ordered had come in.  I was anxious to get some out into the community.
 
Consequently, on one of the coldest days of the year (13 below without wind chill), I ended up having “a walk to remember.”
 
Dressed up in fleece pants (under my jumper), a hooded scarf, ski gloves, and my nice, warm jacket, I carried a deep, zippered tote bag to the 12:10 Mass. 
 
It actually was a multipurpose trip.  I was able to drop off brochures, attend Mass, and bring home hosts for our residents. 
 
It is quite the experience, carefully carrying the Blessed Sacrament ten blocks!
 
It is truly amazing that God, in His wonderful love for us, allows a mere creature, sinful and weak, to do such a thing, and that He comes to us in such humility. 
 
No wonder St. Francis so poignantly writes: “O sublime humility! O humble sublimity! The Lord of the universe, God and the Son of God so humbles Himself that for our salvation He hides Himself under an ordinary piece of bread! Brothers, look at the humility of God, and pour out your hearts before Him. Humble yourselves so that you may be exalted by Him! Hold back nothing of yourselves for yourselves, so that He Who gives Himself totally to you may receive you totally!”

I think I'm supposed to be learning another lesson right now, about living in the present moment.​ 

I am "home" helping my mother, who recently fractured her shoulder.  On the way back here to the Twin Cities, a friend with whom I was travelling gave me a great insight.  

She told me a little prayer she had learned.  It went something like this: "Lord, I know that you are here with me in this present moment.  I want to be with you in this present moment."  She pointed out that God is always in the present, and that when we dwell on the past or the future we are not truly being with Him where He wants us to be, but are caught up elsewhere.

This lesson has been especially poignant to me this week...

In the back of my mind, I wonder about the coming days, how long I should stay here to help out and what will happen when I go back to my regular workplace (with the challenges that assuredly await me there).

I don't know the answers to these questions, but I know that I can stay with Jesus in this present moment, leaving the rest up to Him (easier said than done for me).

This morning at Mass, this present Presence of Jesus struck me powerfully.  I was kneeling in prayer before communion.  (At my home parish, the priests and those helping distribute communion go to the pews rather than having a communion line.) 

All of a sudden, before I hardly knew what was happening, Father was in front of me.  Jesus was there! 

He was there with me, in the here and now, amidst my uncertainties and needs. 

​It was such a beautiful, consoling reminder of how Jesus comes to us in our needs, in ways and moments that we least expect.  

I'm currently out of town, spending some time at the provincial house.

I hadn't been able to access this site until now.  Until I post again, I invite you to enjoy (and share) a little video I just made for our retreat center here.

God bless you - have a good week!

It has been quite the month!  I think I may finally be getting my strength back after being down for the count.  I haven't felt quite myself since—well—last year.  I find that after just a little bit of work, all my energy is gone.

I haven't been alone in my infirmity, either.  Unfortunately, one of my fellow Sisters has been dealing with the same thing.  I'm a little further along than she, however, and so have done a little bit of cooking for the both of us (rather than having to haul every meal over from the main dining room—or have it delivered all the time). 

The other night, she decided that scrambled eggs sounded good.  Other than watching my dad make them every Sunday morning after Mass, I don’t have a ton of experience with making this comfort food.  I’ve maybe done it twice before in my life. 
 
Now that I’m over the worst and no longer contagious, I was able to go over to get eggs and milk.  When I went in the fridge, pulling out a carton of milk, I noticed several packets of Luchables were still there.  We have no idea where they came from. 
 
I thought— “Ah hah; I’ll use these in the scrambled eggs.”  Along with some sandwich cookies and plain crackers, each package also had several small slices of cheese and ham or turkey. 
 
I brought my ingredients back to the convent, and set to work tearing the meat and cheese from a few packets into the bowl with four eggs I had procured.  I did sit down on a step stool for much of this process, due to my quickly diminishing energy level.  I added a generous splash of milk, salt and pepper, and poured the raw mixture into a pan I had greased. 
 
Within about five minutes, I was able to call downstairs that supper was ready. 
 
The recipient of this unconventional “breakfast for supper” liked the eggs very much.  Half are still left, though, in the refrigerator, probably to be finished off this evening.  I was tickled that she so enjoyed my cooking. 
 
Meanwhile, last night, I finished off a wild rice hotdish (originally it was supposed to be soup) that I had made last weekend.  After I made it, the rice absorbed more and more of the liquid.  I also ended up adding some leftover chicken and potato pieces, which helped mellow the strong spices that had come in the soup mix. 
 
I must say, one of my favorite meals I’ve had during my time recuperating has been kettle corn (microwave, no less), which also reminded me of my dad.  One of our last meals together before he got sick had been supper on a Friday in Lent when we shared a bowl of popcorn. 
 
Although I don’t mind cooking at all, I do look forward to the day (hopefully soon) when we are fully recovered and don’t need to hang out at the convent during the work week.

In the meantime, I am reminded to be grateful for all of life's little blessings, even scrambled eggs that turned out well.  

These words have been striking me in recent days...

Sunday's gospel told of the angel's appearance to Mary, and his subsequent exhortation: "Do not be afraid..."  In a book I picked up for spiritual reading during my convalescence, the author spoke of the power of St. John Paul II's use of this same phrase (found elsewhere in scripture).

In looking back at the year 2020, however, the sentiment of fear has been (and continues to be) a dominant one for many.  

Last night on the news broadcast, the fear was very pronounced, in the tone of the newscaster's voice and in the messages conveyed.  The fear was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife!  

And...there has been cause for fear: a deadly virus running rampant, rioting, violence, and unrest all over, and the list goes on.  

These problems really aren't new, however; they can even be read about in the scriptures.  Nonetheless, I can't recall one scripture verse telling us to be afraid of these threats.  In fact, the psalmist says "....therefore we do not fear, though the earth should rock or the mountains be cast into the sea."  (There are many other verses that stir our hearts to courage and confidence.)

Why shouldn't we fear?  Why do we not need to be anxious in the midst of so many terrible situations in our own lives, in our country, and around the world?  Because Jesus is our HOPE!  He's got this!

Recently, in another news report (I've seen a few of these lately), a woman being interviewed stated that the CoronaVirus vaccine was our hope.  This gave me pause; I thought, "No, these vaccines are not our hope; they may be wonderful tools, helping in this fight, but they are not our hope.  Jesus is our hope."  He is the one who tells us not to be afraid.

The author in the above-mentioned spiritual book talked about how instrumental JPII's words to the people of Poland were in the collapse of the communist regime in the 1980s.  This made me think.  Looking to Jesus, hoping in Him, and entrusting Him with our present causes of fear can be instrumental in our journey, too, out of this time of pandemic.  

"So we do not fear, though the earth shall rock..." "[for perfect love casts out fear."

The past day or two, I've been home sick.  As the saying goes, "Could be better...could be worse."  

Because of this, I haven't seen much more than my four walls since Tuesday afternoon.  Having had some chills that left me wanting to hunker down in bed, it didn't pay to get dressed yesterday.  Also, dressing would have taken energy (something that I don't currently have in abundance).  

This being said, my hair (bangs especially) was a bit wild.  That natural wave that I inherited from my mom's family, unchecked, goes a little crazy; I go through it each morning with a wet comb.

Last evening, my sister, mom, and lifelong friend had arranged a video call and invited me to join them.  Since I would not be attending our "Community Study/Recreation Night" for fear of "spreading the love" (my sickness), I was free to participate.  However, in my present circumstances, I was not eager to be on video.  At first, I just stayed in bed with the light off, but soon enough, was pressured to shed some light on the subject.  

Reluctantly, I put on my veil and flipped the light switch.  Not being terribly skilled at using the Tablet, and not feeing my best, I unknowingly gave the others a view of my wild hair (not my face).  

We got a good laugh out of it, though, when someone referred to this as the "big bang theory."  

A little humor and a nice visit (long overdue) were a good closing for a day spent alone.  

Times like this make me appreciate more the gift of friendship and human socialization  I pray that things change quickly and we can resume normal interactions without "social distancing," which is so contrary to normal, healthy, human behavior.

Around eight o'clock last night, I got back to the house after a stressful and challenging day.  As I was putting my used mask into my "Dirty Masks Bag," and settling in, I heard that Sr. Jean Louise was on the phone.  According to custom, she had prepared the "advent practices" for the Sisters from our two convents, who normally spend Thanksgiving weekend together and exchange names for the year's prayer partners.  Due to circumstanes related to this pandemic, we were not able to be together this [liturgical] New Years Eve. :(

Sister informed my of my role in the nativity story for Advent, which corresponds with the "practice" for me to work on.  She said I was the "ass," but I prefer to refer to myself as a donkey.  My exhortation was to "willingly [bear] all the burdens obedience puts on [me], saying “Yes, Father” even in unpleasant tasks." 

I didn't feel so bad about my humiliating role (I'm not an angel, wise man, or St. Joseph) after one of my fellow Sisters told me that she was to be "the Ox."

All kidding aside, I think this Advent practice, this role as a donkey bearing burdens, has real meaning for me this Advent. 

For us at St. Anne's, striving to protect the most vulnerable during a pandemic has not gotten any easier.  We are living and working in very stressful times. 

This burden, as a donkey, I think, includes helping, as I'm able, to ease the burdens of my co-workers.  We are all stressed and burdened, but if I can recognize that my neighbor is just as stressed and burdened as I am, I can try to show her kindness and do what I can to ease her difficulty.

Last evening, as I was preparing for an early bedtime (being tired and facing an early morning), I couldn't help but think of the words of the carol, The Friendly Beasts: "I said the donkey, shaggy and brown..." (even though I did just give myself a haircut the other night).

Being short on time and inspiration, I decided to share a post from 2016.  I hope you enjoy it.

NOVEMBER 18, 2016
I come from a family with very distinct Thanksgiving traditions:

We always went to a certain aunt and uncle’s house in South Minneapolis and carried out several other heartwarming, yet predictable traditions.  The customs were so predictable that I actually wrote a “process analysis essay” about my family’s Thanksgiving Day’s activities my freshman year in college.  From my dad waking us for Mass to ‘give thanks’ to racing my sister for the newspaper for a chance to color the Minneapolis Star Tribune‘s Tom Turkey, the day was full of joy and excitement!

That being said, let’s jump ahead to my first fall with the Sisters…

Sr. Sara Marie, who would become my postulant directress, heard from me that one of our customs was checking the ice on nearby ponds.  To make my first Thanksgiving experience “in the convent” more home-like, and to have a little fun, she had me pose for a picture, broom in hand, “checking the ice” on the little fishpond, to see if it was completely frozen.

Later in the day, we decided to do some baking.  About a month earlier we had carved jack-o-lanterns together to decorate the convent.  Now we were going to make a pumpkin dessert, complete with homemade graham cracker crust.

We were working in the convent bakery.  I had dutifully crushed up some graham crackers and had them in a bowl.  When I set the bowl down on the table (which, to my credit, was quite slippery), the bowl slid onto the floor.

What a mess!!!  To make matters worse, there was a black rubber mat with circular holes on the floor nearby.  Crumbs littered the bakery floor, including between these holes.
Kindly, Sr. Sara Marie got out the Shop-Vac for me.  I proceeded to hook up the hose to the mechanism and turn it on.  I, however, was not used to using that machine and put the hose in the “blow” instead of the “suck” end.  Consequently, as you may imagine, the graham cracker crumbs were blown even more in all directions.

Poor Sr. Sara Marie!  What a clumsy Affiliate she had to deal with!!!  (This wasn’t the first of my humiliating adventures in Hankinson.)

As the years have gone by, different traditions have materialized for me.  Spending the school years during my novitiate and first year in profession in Rugby, I joined my Sisters in travelling “to Grandmother’s House” ever year.

You’ll remember that St. Anne was Jesus’ grandmother.  Thus, we referred to St. Anne’s Guest Home, where we spent the Thanksgiving Holiday with our Sisters, as “Grandmother’s House.”

Now, I have been serving at St. Anne’s, myself, for quite some time, and our Sisters from Rugby continue to grace us with their presence at Thanksgiving, according to Tradition.

Sr. Christina M. Neumann, OSF

A week and a half ago, I spent some time in the afternoon (after finishing my shift at the reception desk and attending resident care conferences) cutting up some bread. 
 
We had received a large donation of day-old Panera breads of all kinds: sour dough, cinnamon-sugar glazed, and more.  After advertising it to our staff (for them to help themselves) and taking some for our kitchen’s use, there was still quite a bit left.  Two viable options (besides just sticking it all in the freezer) arose for me.  Croutons and bread pudding could both be made out of leftover bread.  I ended up making some of each, using sour dough loafs for the former and cinnamon-sugar glazed bagels for the latter. 
 
Unfortunately, though, the project left a tender blister on the forefinger of my left hand.  (Yes; I am a lefty.)  Finally, I noticed this morning that it has really started to heal.  The now crusty area is actually shrinking a little.  It sure was sore for a while, though!
 
I think of this after hearing and reflecting upon the gospel reading this Sunday as well as a poem that was shared from a funeral of a Sister we know.  The poem was about “The Hands of a Sister.”  It chronicled some of the different types of work religious Sisters have traditionally done: forming and teaching little children, caring for the sick, etc. 
 
Some of the deeds described there were not ones that I am called to engage in.  Nonetheless, it made me think about my hands and what they do on a daily basis.  I pray they may always serve in a way pleasing to Our Lord.
 
I think this Sunday’s gospel (about the servants entrusted with varying amounts of money) fits with this reflection, also.  Like these servants, each of us will be called to give an account for how we used what was given to us, what our “hands” did with the gifts we received. 
 
I hope and pray that, like the first two servants, at the end of our lives, each of us will have a good return to show on God’s investment in us.
 
However, as I write this, I can’t help but think about St. Therese of Lisiuex’s reflection on empty hands: “In the evening of life I shall appear before you with empty hands, for I am not asking you, Lord, to count my works.” 
 
Her humble, trusting attitude is something for us to really think about and seek to emulate. 
 
While my hands are engaged in the humble work of cutting up old bread, washing out a resident’s support socks, or taking someone’s temperature, my eyes (inspired by the Little Flower) can be fixed in trust on Jesus.

These words from this morning’s responsorial psalm seem especially appropriate in November of 2020. 
 
Times are uncertain; that’s for sure.
 
Just now, one of our staff had to leave work unexpectedly…I guess I’ll be filling in this evening as an aide. 
(The earth’s ‘shakiness’ has hit closer to home since I began typing this.) 
 
If you haven’t done so already, I’d encourage you to take a moment and read this beautiful psalm (46). 
 
We all know and have heard about God’s omnipotence, omniscience, and omnipresence.  However, it’s good to be reminded of the implications this theological doctrine has in our lives today. 
 
Despite rising CoronaVirus case numbers, election issues, and everything else we’re facing, God still “is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in distress.” 
 
Turning to Him for support, we need not fear, “though the earth be shaken or the mountains fall into the depths of the sea.”
 
Currently, I’m reading a book about mercy.  It includes passages from St. Faustina’s diary and encouragement to pray the Chaplet of Divine Mercy (as well as to practice the works of mercy).
 
At this time, which can stretch our faith and trust, I think it is especially appropriate to pray this powerful prayer: for ourselves, for our nation, and for our world.
 
It is also good to remind ourselves to keep our eyes on Jesus.  If we do this, the earth’s ‘shaking’ shouldn’t get to us as much.

I guess I was a week ahead of myself!  This morning, when I read over the readings for Mass for my meditation, I had the ribbon of the little missal I use in the 31st Week of Ordinary Time. 
 
The readings spoke of counting worldly things as loss for the sake of Christ, and of the lost sheep (out of one-hundred).  When I got up to read at Mass, therefore, and started seeing words like sword, armor, and shield, I was a bit taken aback.  That hadn’t been in the reading I had prepared! 
 
Regretful that I had meditated on the readings for next Thursday by mistake, I really had no choice but to continue reading, unprepared.  Despite the mix-up, the words of the epistle and psalm delighted my heart.  I always love these concrete, tangible images and references to God as our Rock, fortress, and defense. 
 
These are especially appropriate now.  At this time of trial, it kind of feels like we are in a battle!
 
The psalm tends to arose joyful assurance in my heart, that He truly is: “my rock…, my mercy and my fortress,
my stronghold, my deliverer, my shield, in whom I trust,” who “deliver[s His] servant from the evil sword.”
 
The reading this morning was a wonderful reminder that we really are in God’s army, relying upon his protection and grace. 
 
I’m grateful, in a way, for my little mistake this morning.  Through it I received more inspiration for the day than I would have otherwise…and I need all the help I can get!

We’ve been hearing a lot about numbers lately: numbers of COVID cases, numbers of early voters, numbers of inches of snow falling around the area (yuck)…One source estimates that, each winter a septillion snowflakes fall in our country!

Numbers are kind of a big deal.
 
None of us are immune to the effect of numbers on our daily lives.  Personally, I know that the rising number of Coronavirus cases in our county have made things a bit more serious around my workplace of late. 
 
This October, as we near elections, the minds of many have turned to some key issues, as well as numbers involved with them. 
 
One key issue people are considering is our economy.  It’s estimated that over 20 million people lost their jobs early in the pandemic, and many of them have not found employment again since.  Most of us working in the field of long-term care, though faced with many challenges, at least have not had to deal with this terrible situation.  What an awful hardship it must be to be unemployed in today’s world!
 
Beyond loss of jobs, about 210,000 people actually died in our country this year, related to COVID-19; that’s not too far shy of a quarter of a million!  No wonder effectively combating this virus is forefront in many people’s minds as they think about heading to the polls or mailing in their ballots in the near future.
 
Although this year’s numbers aren’t yet available, another set of numbers I can’t help but think of is the numbers of unborn babies killed annually by abortion.  Estimating from recent years' figures, it wouldn’t be farfetched to guess that the number would be somewhere around 800,000 in the United States.  That’s roughly triple the number of Americans whose lives ended in relationship to this “pandemic.”
 
Some might argue against this comparison, stating that the Coronavirus is an infectious disease, while abortion is a “medical procedure.”  Nonetheless, both of these leading causes of death sadly take the life of vulnerable human persons. 
 
Furthermore, those killed by abortion never have a chance to "live."  They never get to enjoy life and have the many experiences the rest of us have been blessed with.  I am not trying to downplay the seriousness of the virus plaguing our world, but just trying to share a little perspective on a greater evil that has been plaguing our society for many years already. 
 
There are so many vitally important issues to consider in our world today, but those whose right to life is not safeguarded don’t even have access to any of the other goods we’re promoting (such as education, economic stability, or healthcare, etc.).

Regardless of where you stand on any of these sets of numbers, these issues, I hope you will join me in praying for the guidance of the Holy Spirit on our country in dealing with current situations. 

Wouldn't it be great if we could have millions of Americans joined in prayer?

As I sat in chapel yesterday morning, reading over the scripture readings for Mass, one phrase especially struck me: "...he chose us in him, before the foundation of the world..."

This passage from Ephesians (1:1-10) explains how God our Father chose us in Christ to be holy and without blemish.  This whole reading is worth pondering, but that would be a topic for another article.

I'd like to go back to the titular phrase of this post: "Before the foundation of the world."

Isn't that amazing to think about?  According to a quick Google search, our planet is about four and a half billion years old!  That's nine zeros (well, actually 8, with the five in place of one of them)!  Can you imagine how long that is? 

If you and I perhaps live to be 80, which seems to be about the average life expectency nowadays, our planet's foundations would have been laid 56,250,000 lifetime's ago! 

Holy macro!

God has had us in mind for a long time!  He's had a long time to figure things out.  Actually, that's not quite right, I think He's had a plan all along.  So when things aren't going well, when things look dark, I can find consolation in this.  I can remind myself of this; He has a loving plan for our good.

I am reminded of a scripture verse which articulates this message well.  It was etched in my memory by a youth group trip a number of yeaers back: "For I know well the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare, not for your woe, plans to give you a future full of hope."  We went around the group (probably on the bus), inserting the name of each person into the passage, ending with an enthusiastic "Jeremiah Twenty NINE Eleven!"

It is beautiful and touching to realize that God's loving plan for my life preceeded the very foundation of the world. 

Today, now, as we honor St. Margaret Mary (known for the revelations of the Sacred Heart), I gratefully recall the words of Psalm 33: "the plans of his heart [stand] from age to age."

If I were to articulate the sentiments on my heart this morning in one word, it would be “gratitude.” 
 
It has been a very busy week, and I’ve been so tired.  Two nights of not sleeping well didn’t help matters. 

Wednesday evening, we had been given a fruit-flavored powder product, along with a variety of other items, by some friends of ours.  It was supposed to be an energy booster and vitamin supplement.  We were looking over all of these donations at the supper table, and I decided to try one of them out.  I enjoyed it, not knowing that this product had as much caffeine as a cup of coffee (which I never drink). 
 
Anyway, this morning, I finally had a chance to sleep in, and it felt WONDERFUL!!  Just having a chance to “breathe,” catch up on rest, and have time to take care of things felt so good.  At Mass, gratitude for the blessings of the day filled my heart. 
 
After Mass, we were talking briefly about the details of our Sisters coming to the U.S.  I brought out Prairie Praise, the history of our community written by our Sister Patricia.  It was fitting, today, that I noticed her poem on the back page: Psalm of Thanksgiving.
 
After this discussion, I still had a little time before I was due at the reception desk, time enough to catch up on another small item that has been on my “to do list” for some time already. 
 
I had been looking through the Lazy Susan over at the convent a few weeks ago, and noticed a box of vanilla pudding.  It was opened, but we don’t remember what it had been used for (unless it was 'imitation eggnog' at Christmastime).  I noticed the “best used by” date was October of 2020, so I figured I’d might as well mix it up sometime so we could use it before it got too old.
 
Today, when I finally got around to doing so, I faced a little problem.  Since the package was opened, I didn’t know how much mix was still left (and thus, how much milk to add).  I guessed there was about 2/3 of a pack left, and went from there. 
 
Previously, we had received some packages of “dry milk mixture” from the food bank.  Lucky me; I inherited it.  It is quite different, and very sweet.  I thought this pudding situation was the perfect opportunity to use some of it up!  I found a plastic container and mixed about two cups of water and milk powder mix with the pudding and cocoa powder, stirring it vigorously for a couple of minutes.  I stuck it in the fridge, hoping to enjoy some with the other Sisters in a couple of hours at lunchtime.
 
At lunch, however, when I pulled it out, it was not set, but instead resembled a dietary supplement drink like Boost.  We decided to stick it in the freezer until later in the meal in hope that it would be more like a milkshake.  Actually, not much happened in that short of time, but Sr. Elaine and I both drank some anyway.  It was okay...I guess.  Sr. Rebecca, who does not care for milkshakes, declined my offer of a glass of it.
 
We had some laughs over the whole ordeal, but decided that this concoction would not be something I would try again. 
 
I asked Sr. Elaine (referring to an express she sometimes uses), “I bet you won’t say ‘play it again, Sam’ about this one, will you?”

In keeping with this morning's sentiments of gratitude, I am thankful that it was only a little over two cups, rather than two quarts, that we have to use up!

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!