Monday and Tuesday, Sister Elaine and I “crossed the river” to attend Mass at Sacred Heart Church in East Grand Forks since most of the priests of the Fargo Diocese are gone for their workshop/gathering. 
 
As we were driving home Tuesday morning, we started talking about bridges. 
 
I noted that there is an interesting difference between “back home,” where the bridges over the Mississippi are known for the street they are on (e.g., Robert, Smith, Wabasha), and Grand Forks, where they seem to have special names unrelated to their location.
 
Sr. Elaine mentioned an interesting tidbit.  She said that there was a saying that “Sr. Fortuna helped build the Kennedy Bridge,” since she used to sit outside and watch the construction being done on it. 
 
This would have been around the early 1960s. 
 
I had heard about Sr. Fortuna when studying the history of our province as a postulant or novice, but I hadn’t remembered that she had been in Grand Forks.  Sr. Fortuna had been such an important person in the history of the community in Hankinson; I found it interesting that she had ties up here in “the North Country.”
 
This morning, Sr. Elaine had to cross the river all by herself since I am working the front desk and will go to St. Mike's this evening.  The priests are scheduled to be back for the evening Mass. 

This morning after Mass, as he passed by the front desk, Father said, “So the Rugby Sisters are coming?!”  The good news had obviously been relayed to him by Sr. Elaine.
 
We hadn’t been sure if our Sisters in Rugby would be keeping the Labor Day weekend tradition, as they also had been invited to a wedding, but just last night, Sr. Rebecca got news that they were indeed coming, and right after school today! 
 
We had thought that they probably would come late Saturday, so this news was a pleasant surprise. 

Earlier in the week, I had been looking to the weekend with some trepidation, knowing it would be a busy one with work and other commitments and also a certain situation I was a bit uneasy about.  Now, however, with this good news of a weekend with our visiting Sisters, my attitude has shifted. 
 
Ever since I was a novice in Rugby (quite a few years ago now), this Labor Day tradition has been a beautiful part of my life.  The Sisters at Little Flower Convent in Rugby travel to Grand Forks to spend the weekend with the Sisters at St. Anne’s Convent. 
 
The same delightful arrangement is also part of the Thanksgiving weekend experience, though last year it was drastically curtailed due to COVID concerns. 
 
Happy Labor Day weekend, everyone!

Several years ago, during the "Year of Faith," I offered a discussion group, Catechism Chats, for our residents, where we read and discussed The Catechism of the Catholic Church. 

Well, actually, rather than reading the entire document, we just read the chapter summary sections, called "In Brief," taking turns around the table.

One time, by mistake, one of the residents started reading the other text within the chapter (which we had been skipping over), and was reprimanded by a fellow resident, "Just the briefs, just the briefs!"  We burst out laughing at the reference unwittingly made to adult diapers.

I bring this humorous episode up because, this past month, I re-instated these fun little "chats."  One of our residents was commenting on how she should really make an effort to  learn more about her faith.  One thing led to another, and now, Thursday evenings have an added dimension for me.  

I don't know about you, but, on occasion, I've started an undertaking and then wonder if it really was a good idea, after all.  A sweet comment by one of our ladies last night put any doubts about Catechism Chats to rest.  She's a bit hard of hearing, and not even Catholic, but she told me what a wonderful session it had been!  She had deeply appreciated and enjoyed it. 

I was touched.

I’m sorry it’s been a while since I’ve shared anything here.  It has been busy, but I’ve also lacked inspiration.  Oh well, here I am now!
 
I thought I’d share about my morning.  It’s the first Saturday of the month, so we had our women’s gathering.  I was prepared to show a beautiful YouTube video about St. Junipero to the group, using a laptop. 
 
This morning, I got up early to get to chapel for personal prayer and set up for Mass, as well as take care of what I needed to before heading over to the local church for our event.  After this, I brought the items I needed back to the convent, where I spent a couple of minutes trying to figure out how I could best place them in my bike basket and on the handle basket to ensure optimal balance and safety on my 10 block trek. 
 
It took some readjusting, even after I had “hit the road,” but I made it to Church without incident.  I had arrived plenty early to set up everything for our gathering in plenty of time to get upstairs for Mass. 
 
I parked and locked my bike, and headed inside.  After finding an outlet and plugging in the computer, I turned it on.  A black screen with white typeface informed me that it was “unable to find operating system.”  These are not words that a computer-reliant presenter wants to read!  Despite multiple attempts, including first briefly removing the battery, the same fateful message met me when I tried turning on the machine again. 
 
Giving up on the futile effort, I decided that I’d better walk home and get a phone instead; I still had time to make it back for Mass–if I walked really fast…I didn’t want to monkey with the bike lock at this point.  It was 6:53 a.m., and 7:15 Mass was coming right up! 
 
I must admit I was a bit frazzled on the walk, but I did my best to prayerfully calm my nerves. 
 
I did make it back in time for Mass, with a few minutes to spare.  I had left the laptop plugged in while I was gone (about 20 minutes) so I gave it one more quick try in case it had built up enough charge to work.  No such luck!
 
After Mass, I went downstairs and we had a nice, if small, gathering.  We listened to the video on the phone, with its volume turned up all the way.
 
Afterword, I headed back out to my bike for the trek home, happy that I now had less items to carry (as a basket I had been carrying had been disposed of). 
 
I unlocked the bike and started on my way, but something wasn’t right.  I stopped, and discovered that my back tire was FLAT. 
 
I walked the bike back to the convent garage, where I parked it before heading back to work.
 
I don’t know if I had ridden over something, unknowingly, or if the weight of the computer and supplies was too much for the tire. 
 
Whatever the case, it was kind of a rocky road this morning! 

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

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

Yesterday afternoon, it dawned on me, "I haven't put the brown suitcase away yet!" 

It was still setting on a sofa in the parlor...It's been busy, and I hadn't gotten everything back inside immediately after the Triduum liturgies. 

This famous brown suitcase contains a wooden clapper, crucifix, purple covers, kindling for the Easter fire, an instruction sheet, and other supplies for Holy Week.  There's a lot packed into that single piece of luggage!

Climbing up on a step stool to take it out, around the fourth week of Lent, and then putting it away during the octave of Easter, carries sentimental "baggage" with it as well. 

I tend to think to myself something like "Here we are again!" The months have come 'round, and it's time to enter into this holy season once again.  On returning the case to its abode for eleven months of the year, my mount is accompanied by a feeling of accomplishment and happiness that we've made it through another Holy Week and Triduum. 

As one who helps coordinate and set things for these beautiful liturgies, this is no simple task.  I imagine that people who aren't involved in this have very little realization of all that goes into preparing for Holy Week! 

So, as I put the suitcase, packed with important "equipment" for this special time, back into it's place, there's a sense of closure. 

It's rather interesting, when up in those cupboards, what other hidden objects one sees. 
I inherited the job of sacristan from another Sister, who had only trained me to do the job to fill in for her during her vacations, so I didn't get a thorough training in what was what.

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.  

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.

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.

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. 

It’s been another busy week around here, and we’re not even through hump day yet!  Now, during this pandemic, things seem to be more crazy and unpredictable than normal. 
 
A year ago, I’d have never believed that I would be monitoring temperatures of people here and, at other times, attend to the temperature of hot liquids on the activity room stove (namely jams and jellies)!
 
I must say, I’ve come to realize how much there is, in the world, to know, and how much I still don’t know; in learning a lot over the past months, I’ve also been reminded that there’s a lot I have yet to learn. 
 
With each new kind of fruit that’s come in (and that I’ve processed), I’ve probably learned a new lesson.  Too bad I didn’t know it all before I started my first batch several years ago! 
 
One thing that is the same just about every time is the feeling of satisfaction I have when I lift the last jar out of its water-bath, or when I wipe the last kettle dry and clean out the sink!
 
This time, my happiness was doubled; I had finished all the fruits I had saved in the freezers for jam and jelly.  I was finally DONE making jam and jelly! (for now)
 
I told my co-worker, “If any calls come in, offering us fruit or produce, you can just tell them, ‘Thank you, but we have quite enough.  Thank you for thinking of us, though.’ ”  [half teasing/half serious]
 
Having made about a dozen batches over the past week or two, and many others earlier this year, I’ve come to the conclusion that: “I think that’s enough for a while.” 
 
We’ll see how long that lasts!

In doing a little research for this post, I realized that the titular phrase refers to air rather than water, being from the air force hymn.
 
Oh well, for some reason, this patriotic song popped into mind while I was swimming this afternoon.  (I suppose a musical program from the recent Fourth of July holiday probably had something to do with it.)
 
I now have a standing invitation to use the private pool of some friends of ours, and today was the second time I’ve taken advantage of it.  An hour of fun in the water was “just what the doctor ordered” for me! 

I didn’t know if my tentative plans would work out, due to time limitations and impending rain, but I am grateful for God’s providence in allowing me this much needed opportunity!
 
I’m glad my college swimming instructor wasn’t there watching me, because I really didn’t follow all the rules for proper strokes.  I didn’t care, though: I got some good exercise, had fun, and was able to work out some tense muscles.
 
I enjoyed swimming under water, floating on a foam “noodle,” and even jumping off the diving board (until my ears popped, that is).
 
The world under water certainly looks a lot different than that which we’re accustomed to seeing above. 
 
It does the soul (and body) good, however, to get away from the stress of everyday life once and a while; going off into the “wild blue yonder” with an afternoon swim can be a great way of doing this. 
 
Together with the water creatures who, in Daniel 6 are urged to “bless the Lord,” I was moved to give thanks to Him whose “mercy endures forever.”

This afternoon, one of my co-workers asked if we had an old wire coat hanger around.  She’d locked herself out of her car, and wanted to pick the lock.  (I must confess, I don’t know how that’s done.)
 
I lit up…I knew just the thing!  I’ve kept an elongated hanger near the door in the sacristy to use on disorderly candle wicks, to push them back to the center (when we had Adoration here before COVID-19). 
 
I hurried into chapel to find this item, excited to have what she needed readily available, despite the fact that it was an unusual request.
 
I went to the corner, where I conveniently kept the hanger, but it wasn’t there!
 
In the back of my mind, I remembered working in there recently and seeing the hanger.  I had debated whether or not I should leave it there, since we didn’t presently need it.  I couldn’t remember, however, what I ended up deciding and doing. 
 
To further complicate matters, the night staff had cleaned in Chapel last night, and someone could have moved or discarded the unusual piece of wire.
 
I’ve told myself before, “Don’t change things up; you might not find it again in a new spot that you’re not used to.”  (I have been in this frustrating situation at least once before.)
 
Now, I’m waiting to hear back from one of the night aides.  In the meantime, my co-worker will have to catch a ride home with someone.   
 
I do hope my treasure shows up again though, because it is handy for multiple purposes. 
 
I guess I have another mission for our good friend Saint Anthony!

This morning, as we finished the first Mass at St. Anne’s since March 18th, the closing response seemed especially appropriate!
 
Due to the ban on visitation in light of COVID-19, St. Patrick’s Day was the last time we were actually able to have Mass celebrated here. 
 
Yesterday afternoon, we learned that a priest who recently moved in here was interested in offering Mass here on the morrow at 9 a.m.; it would be open to us and our residents. 
 
I’d have to dust off my sacristan hat in a hurry! 
 
I had to make sure the wine and hosts were still good, and change the lectionary and missal from Lent to the twelfth week of Ordinary Time.  I had to find a Mass stipend, and attend to other details. 
 
I guess, I was still a bit rusty because, at 8:58 a.m., Father asked me if I was going to light the candles.  After struggling to light the new lighting taper, I finally got the candles lit.  (Fire Hazard Warning: You cannot blow out a match while wearing a mask.  Make sure to take off your mask before working with matches to avoid burns or uncontrolled flames.)
 
I got back to my seat and remembered that I needed my bell to ring at the epiclesis and consecration.  Back to the cupboards I went!)
 
Other than that, everything went very well.  We felt so blessed to have Mass here once again.  It was wonderful!
 
I really am blessed!  Despite living in a very challenging time, I have so gifted!  Along with the greatest blessing of life and the sacraments, God continues to bless me in so many ways; if only I would remember that more!
 
I’ll share a couple of timely examples:
 
This week, we received a donated Baldwin piano!  We’re having trouble with the electric piano we have, and I’ve been dreaming of a real piano for a while now.  Now, this dream has become a reality!  I’m looking forward to playing it for our residents Sunday afternoon.
 
Also, a friend of ours has offered me the use of her private swimming pool.  This evening, I’m finally going to be able to take advantage of it!  This is very exciting because I’m a little fish (I love the water), but rarely get to swim anymore.
 
As if that weren’t enough for a list of blessings, we are getting company this evening for tomorrow’s board meeting.  I am very much looking forward to a visit from three of our Sisters. 
 
With all of this in mind, especially the blessing of having Mass in our own chapel again, it was with great fervor that I responded to Father’s closing statement: “Thanks be to God!”

This afternoon, when I got off work at the front desk, I had one destination in mind - Poppler's Music!

We are promised a new (to us) Baldwin piano, and I’m itching to get it in and try it out!
 
In the meantime, I got permission to order a book of large print hits from the ‘60s, which promises to bring much enjoyment to us at St. Anne's on quiet Sunday afternoons.
 
When working the desk this morning, I got the anticipated phone call that the book was in and ready for pick up.
 
I hadn’t taken “Neumann Wheels” (as Sr. Elaine’s dubbed my bike) out for quite some time, so it was kind of fun wheeling it out of the convent garage for the two-mile trek down Washington Street. 
 
It was also enjoyable seeing some of the sights of the city.  Living and working within one square block, I don’t get a chance for this too often.
 
I got back to St. Anne’s with the book in my basket, and tried out the new book right away.

Along with "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," I enjoyed playing "Downtown," an appropriate song for the afternoon! 

I've been meaning to write this for a while, now.  (It's been a couple of weeks since I've posted here last.) 

Hovewever, since returning from Retreat at our provincial house in Hankinson, I haven't had much spare time.

I wanted share with you from my experience of "collecting precious metals," as I dubbed an experience I had with Sister Mary Ruth down there over the weekend (after retreat was over).

She had just offered a day of reflection, and had placed metal rods out on the grounds to form a large outdoor rosary.  After the day was over, she needed to collect them again.  Thus, I ended up helping her a little with the project.

She had me drive a little golf card named "Donkey."  I don't ever remember driving one before, and it's been over fifteen years since I tried driving a car.  (I had gotten my permit but never actually got a liscense due to my vision.) 

I was a bit rusty manuvering a steering wheel.

Riding "Donkey" took a little getting used to, but it was kind of a fun adventure, driving around the grounds as Sister Mary Ruth gathered the spikes, her "precious metals."

After that, we drove around the areas that were littered with downed twigs and branches from strong winds the night before.  "Donkey" proved to be the perfect aide in easily gathering these and bringing them back to be discarded.

When we were finished, I was grateful that my companion did the honors of "putting donkey to bed" (placing "him" back in its nook in the shed) as I don't think that would have gone well for me.  (As it was, I managed to incur minor property damage by taking out a wire from the close-line...that's another story all together!"

I guess I’ve been praying for some unusual, even unprecedented things lately: that we can have Mass here once again, that we can open our doors to visitors, and that we can be done with taking temperatures and wearing masks (all safely and preferably sooner than later).  I guess it should come as no surprise, then, that yesterday afternoon I caught myself raising another unusual prayer request heavenward. 
 
After getting off duty at the front desk, tying up some loose ends, doing a read-a-aloud, and getting my supplies ready, I spent the rest of the afternoon out “digging in the dirt.”  I was grateful for the help of several of our residents in this big project.  By suppertime at 5:30 p.m., we had three rows of onions in, with carrots planted in between each onion seedling.
 
I was amazed by the small size of the carrot seeds!  How can so much information be stored in such a tiny thing as a carrot seed?  It is truly amazing!
 
I had been tending the onions indoors for the past few weeks, and they were really doing well.  As we worked so hard to get them in the ground (which, unfortunately, was kind of hard despite my tilling efforts), I found myself praying: “Please bless my onions.”  After all this work, it would sure be a shame if they drooped over and died! 
 
I know there are certainly more important petitions in the world today, but I can’t stop myself from praying for these small, vulnerable, delicate little plants! 
 
I know that One who will see us through the Corona Virus pandemic can also take care of my little garden.  (I trust that He will.)

This morning, during the Mass live-streamed from the local parish church, my ears delighted on hearing the notes of the "Easter Alleluia," as Sister Elaine calls it.  (This particular musical setting was used at the Easter vigil when she was young.)

Other than at last weekend's Masses, this was the first time I had heard the alleluia sung for several weeks.  (We don't get much of that during Lent, you know.)

It was so beautiful to here this joyful song of praise amidst the turbulent times we are facing. 

Here we were, watching the Mass on a large screen (in a gathering of less than ten people), still singing this age-old canticle of praise.  Long ago, the psalmist sang this ejaculation, lifting up heart and voice in thanksgiving. 

This morning's alleluia was a fitting reminder to me, during a twenty-first century pandemic, that it is truly "right and just" at all times to give thanks and praise!

Whew - I'm tired after another full day!

Working in long-term care certainly has gotten more complicated lately.  Serving a very vulnerable population in the midst of a pandemic involves a lot of precautions unheard of before now. 

I just took over at the front desk for the evening shift, and had the honor of checking my first temperature and asking my first passerby to use hand-sanitizer.   We are being quite strict about monitoring people for possible symptoms of COVID-19, even though there haven't been any documented cases yet in our locale. 

Life certainly has changed in the past week!  Things are quite stressful. 

We are certainly living in a time which requires a lot of prayer.  Thankfully, I was reminded of a handy little opportunity to incorporate praying for this drastic situation into my daily life. 

We are so often reminded to wash our hands (or use alcohol based hand sanitizer).  The CDC recommends doing this for at least twenty seconds.  Some recommend singing 'Happy Birthday" to yourself twice.  A better option, it seems to me, is to say a couple of prayers while thoroughly washing the various nooks and crannies of the hands with warm soap water. 

I timed it once, and it takes about 20 seconds to pray a 'Hail Mary' and 'Glory Be.'  Consequently, I've taken to doing this as my hand-washing timing system. 

Throughout the day, especially during these times, I certainly have plentiful opportunities for prayer, and plenty need of it. 

Please join me; it's much more effective than singing 'Happy Birthday."

I just finally got my strength and energy back after having been sick with an ugly bug.  I'd guess that you might say it was just in time! 

Last night, a staff member from the night shift was not able to make it into work, and none of the others from that department were available to fill in for her.  (There are always two staff members scheduled at night.)  Thus it was that I worked here until 5 a.m., rather than getting off duty at 10 last night.

The night really went very well; I have no complaints.  I got the cleaning duties done, did rounds to check on residents, and still had plenty of time to work on a big project in the office. 

One nice thing about the night shift is that most of it is after midnight...
Whenever I've worked the shift, I've found time to slip into chapel and get my private prayer time in 'for the day.'  That way, I don't have to try to fit it into my post-dawn schedule (which normally includes a long nap)!

Along with making alterations to my prayer schedule, working nights also impacts my eating habits.  I usually grab a snack or two during the night and then cut back the following day (part of which is spent in bed).

Today, I went back to bed after Mass, having told the cook that I would not be in for any hot cereal.  After enjoying close to four hours' rest, I came back on time to get a bowl of chili (one of my favorite meals) before going to work at the front desk. 

It must have been breakfast time, since I kept wanting to say 'good morning' to people I saw!
I've never had chili for breakfast before, but it was pretty good today.

I know that, as faithful Catholics, we're urged to undertake some form of voluntary penance during the days of Lent (Sundays and probably solemnities not included).  As kids, we were introduced to the practice of "giving up something" for Lent.  I can remember saving up the restricted item to relish on Sunday, though.  

Although appropriate Lenten penance has changed for me over the years (I no longer feel impelled to give up "after-school snacks"), I'm still called to give up my own will as I go through this season of conversion and renewal.  

The past few days, however, I found it challenging to do any special penance of my own choosing.  I've been sick in bed.  Between chills, terrible headaches, and all the rest, I felt awful, not to mention, terribly week.  To even walk down the hall or get up to use the bathroom took a lot out of effort.  

These past days, my Lenten penance (much more substantial than anything I would have chosen) has included forcing myself to drink more water (even though this meant more trips to the sink to re-fill my bottle)...It has included offering all of this all up - I really made use of my morning offerings!

Thankfully, my fever broke this morning, and I no longer feel like I'm being dragged behind a train (or run over by one).  I'm still weak, though, and I think I should be making my way back to bed soon for some more rest.

(PS: The loving care of others, chicken soup and Jell-O go a long way in helping with this kind of penance.)