I walked by chapel earlier and saw that no one was signed up to read at Mass tomorrow.  Since I haven’t done this for a while, I decided to sign up.
 
Later, when I sat down for my daily time of scriptural prayer, I thought it would be good to use the readings for Wednesday since I may not have a chance to prepare later. 
(When I work in our infirmary until 10 p.m., it impacts my morning schedule.)
 
To my delight, I quickly realized that the first reading was the story of Elijah and the prophets of Baal. 


I was happy that I would be able to do this reading at Mass tomorrow.  It’s a story that I have long enjoyed, for some reason. 
 
In case you don’t remember, this story from 1 Kings recounts a time when the people of Israel were wavering in their faith; they were undecided between following God and worshipping the idol of their neighbors. 


Against the odds, Elijah’s contest against the prophets of Baal proves overwhelmingly who is the true God.   Fire consumes his offering, despite everything having been drenched with water.
 
This episode in Israel’s history is a reminder to us that, no matter how bleak things may seem, God will be victorious.  As tomorrow’s responsorial psalm reminds us, He is our hope on Whom we rely for everything.

Even when, humanly speaking, we can't see a way forward, we are reminded here of who can make a way and turn our losses into victory.

It’s been a while since I last flew in an airplane, but not so long that I’ve forgotten the benefit of a nice smooth, soft landing on the runway. 
 
Strange as it may seem, this time after Pentecost made me think of this. 
 
Each year I am grateful for the wisdom (and charity) of the Church in giving us a nice, soft landing from the exhilaration and exuberant joy of the Easter season. 
 
We are not crash-landed back onto the green grass of Ordinary Time.  Thankfully, we are allowed a number of wonderful feasts to help ease us back into the ordinary-ness of the remainder of the liturgical year. 
 
Next Sunday, we will have Trinity Sunday, with all of its wonder and mystery.  Then, we celebrate Corpus Christi (my favorite), in which we especially honor and give thanks for the great gift of Our Lord’s Body and Blood.  After that, we honor the Sacred Heart of Jesus, followed by the memorial of Mary’s Immaculate Heart. 
 
There are other extensions of this paschal joy for us, too.  For example, the Regina Coeli is traditionally prayed until next Saturday night.  Also, one’s “Easter Duty” may be fulfilled yet during this time (by Trinity Sunday). 
 
It's wonderful that we have this sort of post-Easter gradual descent to earth.  There should be no ear-popping or disturbance in our equilibrium.

Easter Turnabouts
 
Today, there were only a couple of us down for lunch at first.


We were at the table praying our Before Meal prayers when, suddenly, I realized, “We shouldn’t be praying the Angelus; it’s Regina Caeli time! 
 
Consequently, in the middle of the prayers, we made an abrupt switch and began praying the Marian antiphon for Easter instead. 
 
As I write this, I am realizing that this is not the only abrupt change or turnabout during this season.  In fact, this morning’s gospel account of the Road to Emmaus includes such a change. 
 
At the beginning, two travelers were “looking downcast,” and discussing with dismay the horrible events that had happened the previous Friday.  By the end, they had returned to Jerusalem with joy, hurrying back to share their wonderful news. 
 
Sudden transitions from terrible sorrow to exuberant joy are deeply embedded into our experience of this time of year.  No wonder the Church gives us a whole octave every year to delve into this great mystery!
 
I pray that during this beautiful Easter Season you may encounter our Risen Lord, who is truly the reason for our joy, finding Him “in the breaking of the bread,” in prayer, and “along the way.”
 
Have a blessed Easter Season!

​​As we approach these holiest days of the year, memories surface from Passiontides past­- both recent and from years ago. 

My understanding is that the last two weeks of Lent fall under this sub-seasonal category.

We are on the cusp of a somber, yet beautiful time, a particularly holy time. Soon, crosses will be covered.  

Things are going to be so different for me this year, living in a different place and not being sacristan anymore.  I can remember, in the past, wishing that I could just participate in the liturgies of Holy Week without having to coordinate or prepare for them.  Now, I am feeling somewhat nostalgic and almost wishing that I were still in that position. 
 
I can remember getting our brown suitcase down from the top cabinets in the sacristy; it held all the special things we would need: violet-colored cross covers, the wooden clapper, things for the Easter candle, and more. 
 
Even outside the liturgy, there are so many special and unique things tied to Holy Week  Two of my favorites are dyeing Easter eggs on Holy Saturday afternoon and making Hot Cross Buns to serve on Holy Thursday. 
 
I can also remember doing a thorough cleaning of the sanctuary and of candles and the vigil light rack during the last days of Holy Week.  The timing was perfect in more ways than one.  
 
It will be interesting to see what customs arise here for me.  

Have a blessed Passiontide!

Today, the Church celebrates the conversion of Saint Paul to the Christian faith.  Needless to say, it’s a very important day. 
 
On this day, though, my mind often drifts from this first goes to our Sister whose birthday was also January 25th. 
 
She loved playing Pinochle, and would have a card party with cake and ice cream to celebrate her birthday. 
 
While St. Paul used pen and preaching to spread the gospel, Sr. Mary used her gift for art.
 
When I was in formation, I used to clean in her art room every week.  Boy, was that a job!
 
There were so many knickknacks and projects to dust around.  The floor (what you could see of it) was bubbled in one place so the dust mop would catch. 
 
It was definitely an interesting place to clean! 
 
Now, years later, on this feast of St. Paul, I remember her fondly and ask the intercession of the great “Apostle to the Gentles” for her and all of our Sisters. 
 
I would appreciate your prayers as well.

​Things are quite lovely around our Provincial House here as we continue to celebrate Christmas.  As you might expect for a Franciscan convent, manger scenes are quite prevalent here.  I got to help put up one on the second floor here.
 
As Franciscans, this Christmas is a special one for us as we mark the 80th anniversary of St. Francis’ first reenactment of the nativity scene at the town of Greccio at the midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, 1223.  This allowed people to enter into what that experience must have been like. 
 
It is sometimes noted, even in our Constitutions, that St. Francis had great and special devotion to Jesus: “in the Crib, on the Cross, and in the Eucharist.”  
 
These pivotal aspects of our faith, especially as Franciscans, were beautifully depicted to us this Christmas in our chapel. 
 
Here, Sr. Mary Ruth and Sr. Susan Marie, made a lovely display which included a cross, the Baby Jesus and a chalice. 
 
As the new year approaches, may we rededicate ourselves to striving to grow in love for our Lord, who is so generous with us.  We would do well to make time to ponder on these three great mysteries with gratitude.

This morning, I got out of bed at the sound of my alarm and got ready for the day before heading down to chapel.  Since it was Saturday, we would use the small, Sacred Heart Chapel for Mass.  Before Mass, there would be Simple Exposition, where the tabernacle was opened and Jesus was visible.  
 
This would not be happening for a while yet, though, and so when I got to Chapel, I prayed the rosary, enjoying the dark stillness around me as I sat in His presence.  
 
I finished my formal prayers and, by this time, our Sister sacristan was preparing for Mass.  I got my missal ready for meditation on the day’s readings.  
 
I saw her light the candles by the tabernacle and prepare to open the door, kneeling for what I knew was soon to come.  
 
It was a treat being able to glance up at Jesus as I read and prayed with His Word.  When this form of Exposition takes place in our large chapel, I’m not able to see Him; I love the closeness of this smaller space where I have most of my private daily prayer time.  
 
At 8 a.m., we had Mass.  Father consecrated an extra large host to “refresh” the Blessed Sacrament ​in the luna.  When it came to Communion time, I received part of the same large Host which had been in the tabernacle earlier this morning.  
 
I was awed and grateful at the realization that the One whom I had adored and communed with during this recent time of adoration was now coming to me physically, entering my very being.  I really knew this already, but the logistical fact of receiving from the same Host illuminated this wondrous mystery for me today.
 
What an amazing gift!  
 
As we prepare to celebrate Christmas tomorrow night, I realize that this same One is also the newborn King whose birth we are anticipating in joyful hope.  
 
I would like to close with a simple, but beautiful prayer which we traditionally make in our community during these days of Advent.  I feel it fits with my musings this morning:
Jesus, Jesus, come to me; make my heart a crib for Thee

November 11th has long been known as “Armistice Day” or, in this country, Veterans Day, and rightly so.  It is the anniversary of the end of the first world war, in which countless lives were lost.  
 
Another connection making the eleventh day of the eleventh month a fitting time to honor those who have risked their lives for their country in military service is that the saint whose feast we mark was, himself, a soldier.  
 
Saint Martin of Tours considered himself a soldier for Christ, and would eventually resign from military service to embrace the monastic life.
 
A less-known fact about his feast day is that, in times past, it was seen as the beginning of a more penitential time in preparation for Christmas.  Just as, before Easter, we prepare by roughly forty days of fasting, prayer, and alms-giving, people would prepare for the Lord’s birth in a somewhat similar manner in late fall and early winter.  The time beginning on November 11th, St. Martin’s Day, became known as “St. Martin’s Lent.”  
 
This reminds me of St. Francis, who also could be called a soldier for Christ, as he would undergo periods of fasting outside of those prescribed by the universal Church.  He would fast between the feast of the Assumption (August 15) and the feast of St. Michael (September 29).
 
Even if you and I never engage in military service, we, too, can be soldiers for Christ like St. Paul who “fought the good fight.”  
 
A large part of this battle is against our own selves and our sinful desires.  
 
We can look to saints like Martin and Francis for inspiration and prayer as we seek to serve our King, whether by offering our fasting, forgiveness, faithfulness or friendship.

This past month, I've been doing a bit of cooking here, filling in as needed.  

I've done some baking. too, and, yesterday, I served a spice cake for Sr. Mary Ruth's birthday.  

Although I enjoy cooking, I'm glad that my three day stint is almost over.  It takes some energy planning and preparing meals and doing the dishes and cleanup afterward.

This morning, as I was preparing a family favorite for our entree, Sr. Mary Ruth passed through the kitchen, making a comment about a “cooking pumpkin.”  
 
She saw that I was wearing my jack-o-lantern costume which I’d made with my mom in grade school.
 
She teased that she didn’t smell roasted pumpkin.  I responded that I was a roasting pumpkin, as I was now very warm with my sweater, costume, and apron over my jumper.  Need I mention that I was working with the stove and oven?
 
Later, a nurse from our infirmary stopped through as well.  I decided to show her my costume, as I thought we had talked about it recently.  I took off my apron and she took my picture.
 
This afternoon, having finished cleaning up and doing dishes, I took a look at the photos she had sent me.  I noticed that my costume looked wrinkled.  I hadn’t taken the time to iron it this year, and thought it would be good enough.  
 
Before heading over to St. Gerard’s (our nursing home across the street) to help with trick-or-treaters this evening, I may try and see if I can’t get it pressed.
 
Before that, though, I should get my numbers changed…
 
I am leading Office this week, and thought I was being really on top of things by putting the new numbers up before morning Mass.  I thought I was ahead of the game!
 
However, this afternoon, when I had time to breathe and think, I realized that tonight we begin the celebration of All Saints with Evening Prayer I.
 
The numbers I posted are wrong and will have to be changed!
 
So much for working ahead and being well-prepared!

​Happy All Hallows Eve!

I know that one of the hymns for Pentecost uses the noun finger, but my adventures surrounding this word today have had nothing to do with that.
 
As I left chapel and made my way to the front desk for my shift, one of my morning duties was turning on the music in the lobby, where I also opened the shades and windows, to let in sunshine and fresh air. 
 
One of the windows, however, did not stay open; instead it fell shut, with great force, on my right index finger.  Ouch!
 
I danced around a bit, and went on with my morning, practicing some for the vocal music I would need to help lead at Mass. 
 
Sr. Elaine and I had decided to play together for today’s great feast, and had even practiced last evening.  We have two keyboards in our chapel, and years ago, we used to do this for great feasts.  It was nice to revive that custom.
 
When I got back to chapel, though, right before Mass, the finger injury represented itself as a hindrance.  Successfully striking a match is not so easy with an injured finger.  I soon learned that playing organ/keyboard is also a bit more challenging under such circumstances. 
 
I made it through pretty well, though, using other fingers in the injured finger’s stead and occasionally even using the poor index finger. 
 
The music went alright, except for the fact that by the time I was finished singing the sequence, I didn’t have much air left and had to read rather than sing the gospel verse. 
 
At the end of Mass, after the closing song, a few of us chanted the Veni Creator Spritus, which we’ve been planning and practicing for a number of weeks. 
 
As this day and week goes on, I need to continue my prayers for the Holy Spirit’s guidance in my life as well as in my workplace and world. 
 
I’d better stop typing now, though, because my finger is starting to throb. 
 
Happy Pentecost!

This morning, as Father was praying the Collect, a phrase stood out to me: “The brave shepherd.”  In this prayer, he also referred to us as the humble flock and to Jesus as the brave shepherd. 
 
Brave isn’t an adjective that I usually associate with Our Lord, but it really should be.  As I thought about it more, I realized what heroic courage it must have taken for Him to undergo His passion and death willingly, when He easily could have said “No thanks; I don’t think I’m up for it.” 
 
This bravery of Jesus speaks to me as I am faced with challenging circumstances which are pretty much out of my control. 
 
How do I face difficult days?  Do I run to my room and hide, or do I turn to my “brave shepherd,” relying on His grace and strength. 
 
Unlike Him, left to myself, I do not have what it takes to deal with my crosses.  However, as I prepare for Pentecost, I am reminded to ask Him to send His “Spirit of wisdom and understanding…of right judgment and courage,…of knowledge and reverence” (Rite of Confirmation) to help me. 
 
I need this “Gift of God Most High” to guide, strengthen and sustain me on the journey to where “the brave Shepherd has gone before.”

This guiding, shepherding presence was certainly with me last night as, despite my weariness, I was intent on getting a little table with the Good Shepherd statue set up behind the office for today’s “Good Shepherd Sunday.” 

Sr. Rebecca had always done this before, and I hadn't been able to locate the soft green cloth that she used. 
 
Dealing with another situation that I had not bargained for (and about which I was less than excited), I happened to go with a coworker into Sr. Rebecca’s storage room. 
 
There, sitting out, was the lovely green cloth that she had always used (or one that certainly resembled it). 
 
I spotted it with delight! 
 
After a little work, I had it on the table and a decorative square cloth even in place.  It will stay there for several weeks, if not months!
 
Now, whenever I pass by this area, I can be reminded of the brave Shepherd, on whose grace and help I am completely dependent.

Saturday evening was a bit tough for me. 
 
I was pretty tired, after helping prepare and assist with the Holy Week liturgies, decorating chapel for Easter, dyeing eggs with our residents, and working my job at the reception desk.  (I’m not complaining, just stating facts.)
 
There was, however, to be no “early to bed” on this Night of nights. 
The Easter Vigil at the local parish church was to start at 8:30 p.m., and I was to do a reading. 
 
It was nice to only have one little responsibility after days of coordinating so many little details for liturgies at St. Anne’s.  Due to the late hour, we do not have a vigil here, where many of our residents retire early.
 
I walked the ten blocks to the church, navigating massive quantities of water from melting snow. 
 
Once the Mass started, I found myself struggling to stay attentive through the beautiful liturgy, though I was grateful to be there.  (I hadn’t had time to use the ladies’ room in advance, which did not help my efforts to keep focused.)
 
When the final ‘alleluias’ had been sung, we departed; night had fallen and so I rode back with my fellow Sister.
 
We got back to St. Anne’s and I finished preparing the chapel, placing the white cloth on the altar and adorning it with gold trim. 
 
I got into bed around midnight, thankful for being that far.
 
Easter Sunday ended up fairly busy as well, with various responsibilities. 
This morning, it was with continued satisfaction and joy that I returned our “Holy Week suitcase” to the sacristy cabinet, with cross veils, clapper, instruction sheets, and cross for veneration back inside again. 
 
As I had prayed, at the onset of Holy Week, for an open heart to enter into the mysteries at hand, I am now praying the same for this Easter season, which can also be difficult to enter into, since our minds which cannot grasp the wonder of it.

As I sit here at the reception desk, toward the end of my shift, I have a lot on my mind. 
 
Poinsettias from the local garden center arrived about 45 minutes ago.  I’ll need to get them watered and, tomorrow, arrange them in chapel around the stable in front of the altar.  (I won’t go into complications that just got resolved involving our order’s delivery.)
 
Meanwhile, our nice new full length altar cloth hangs over the table and chairs in “the little dining room” near the end of the hallway, hopefully becoming a bit less wrinkled as it waits to be ironed later this evening. 
 
I’m grateful that one of our apartment residents has offered to help hold it (and ‘feed it to me’) as I iron.  With its large size, I find it to be quite a daunting task. 
 
Ironing boards were not shaped for pressing large pieces of fabric, though they do work well for the collars of dress shirts and blouses.
 
But, there’s more…
 
Earlier this morning, I got a couple of calls, to the effect that we would be short an evening aide (in addition to other current staffing constraints).  The ironing expedition, therefore, will take place after I get done recruiting residents for the nurse, distributing bedtime snacks, taking out trash, and doing other light duties up on the men’s and women’s floors.
 
This year, with these and other happenings, I’ve found myself feeling a little bit overwhelmed.  Before we can sing “Silent night…all is calm” tomorrow night, I have quite a ways to go. 
 
(I still want to make festive dessert cups for supper, using no-bake cheese cake, colored with red food coloring, graham cracker crumbles, and a layer of pistachio pudding.)
 
As I recognize that I am now in the “storm before the calm,” I am reminded of the gospel accounts of the calming of the storm at sea, and of on Whom I need to keep my focus. 
 
It’s a good thing we have a time of Exposition and adoration this afternoon!

As I glanced over Tuesday’s Mass readings, the refrain of the assigned responsorial psalm caught my attention: “Let your mercy come to me, O Lord.”
 
What a simple, yet beautiful prayer! 
 
It resonated deeply in my heart, which has been heavy again of late, amidst some challenging days and circumstances. 
 
This experience, which I will have to delve into more deeply during my prayer time tomorrow, is evidence of the quote from Hebrews, which is used in the gospel acclamation: “The word of God is living and effective, able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart.” 
 
I am grateful for this word, alive in our lives, which helps bring us to the freedom Christ offers, as St. Paul so beautifully stated in tomorrow’s epistle: “For freedom Christ set us free.”
 
In closing, may I ask for your prayers in these challenging times, that His mercy may come to me in abundance? 

I know it’s been a number of weeks since I’ve posted any reflections here.  I’m sorry, but I guess I’ve been busy and also not had much inspiration. 
 
As I embark on the final stretch of a fifteen hour stint at the reception desk, I realized that it’s been a while and that, perhaps, I’d better come up with something. 
 
Glancing at the USCCB’s daily readings webpage for inspiration, I saw that tomorrow’s selection is again from Ecclesiastes.  Skimming the words: “There is an appointed time for everything…A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant. A time to kill, and a time to heal…a time of war, and a time of peace,” I was struck by their timeless beauty. 
 
The truths proclaimed thousands of years ago are no less relevant today.
 
In this time when I, for one, face so much added stress and uncertainty, it’s good to remember the lessons contained here. 
 
In times of weeping, mourning, dying, uprooting, killing, tearing down, scattering, not embracing, losing, casting away, rending, hating, and war, I need to keep my gaze directed upward. 
 
It’s so easy to get caught up in the turmoil around me, on the storm.  I need to strive to keep my attention on the One who’s “got it all” and who can calm the storm with a single word. 
 
Whether he decides to end the tempest suddenly or chooses to walk with me through it, I need to entrust myself and my situation to Him, asking Him to stay close to me through it all.

As we celebrate the birthday of the Blessed Virgin today, I decided to share a poem I wrote as a postulant.

Ave Maria!
Hail our Mother and our Queen
Who, at present though not seen,
Watches and protects us here-
in times of peace and times of fear.
 
Please help us to be more like you
Who, in everything, was true.
Please help us trust and truly pray:
Let it be done me as you say.
 
Guide us, please, and help us obey
The words at Cana you did say.
Like those servants, please help us do
What ever He tells [us] to.
 
Show us, please, the way to go
And what we should do to know.
Please help our minds be lit, not dim
As we heed: Listen to Him.
 
Please help us have obedient hearts
And never let our feet depart
From the way which you did run
That will lead us to your Son.
 
Hail, my Mother and my Queen!
Though your loving hands unseen,
I know you have maternal care
For us your children everywhere.
Written January 9, 2006

During this Easter octave, I’ve been struggling to wrap my mind around some of the mystery that we’ve entered into: that of the resurrection.  I know that this isn’t possible, but, still, the brain tries to make sense of it. 
 
I guess I’m not alone in this.  Those first disciples struggled, too, when faced with the mystery of our risen Lord’s presence. 
 
His questions to them, “Why are you troubled?  And why do questions arise in your hearts?” (Luke 24) could well be asked of me and of you. 
 
So often, we fail to grasp what Christ’s risen life means in our own lives.  We become troubled.  We fail to recognize Him in the many little details of our lives. 
 
On that first Easter Sunday, as reflected in today’s gospel, Jesus helped his followers recognize Him by a couple of different means…
 
He broke bread.  Although I am unaware of any evidence that the two who travelled with Jesus to Emmaus were present at the Last Supper, somehow His gesture of breaking bread “opened their eyes.”  Perhaps, they had been there at the feeding of the multitude, who knows! 
 
A second gesture that was meant to give light for those bewildered followers of His was the showing of His hands and feet.  Jesus had to point out to them that He was not a ghost.  He further illuminated this point by eating a piece of baked fish.  (That happens to be on the menu here tomorrow, but I will have to pass on that opportunity for imitation as I cannot stomach it!)
 
Today, each of us might take a moment to ponder how Jesus is showing Himself to us in our lives, asking Him for light and responding in gratitude. 
 
We will not see His wounds or watch Him break the bread, but, surely, He is with us always, until the end of the age, as He promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yesterday was a busy day! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In past months, I’ve had ample cause to ponder the topic of love vs fear (inspired by 1 John 4:18).  Without too much ado, let’s just say that I’m a firm believer in balance and in taking a holistic approach, something that seems to have become somewhat counter-cultural in the past fifteen months…
 
In recent days, though, I’ve seen progress; I’ve seen signs of the triumph of love! 
 
On Sunday, my absolutely favorite feast of the liturgical year, Corpus Christi, we had Mass in our chapel.  It was absolutely wonderful!  We hadn’t been able to worship together there for a long time.  At the end of Mass, we even had our own Corpus Christi procession through the halls here.  The weather was threatening to rain and indoor walking posed less challenges for those with limited mobility, so we decided not to go outside for it.  
 
The day before, as I brought things back from the other wing (where we’d been having Mass) and put them in their rightful places in our chapel, tears welled up in my eyes.  There was such a sense of joy, restoration, and peace!
 
It certainly will be a weekend to remember.  There were other blessings as well, but I won't go into all the details.  There were some less-than-desirable occurrences as well, though.  I ended up going into urgent care for my elbow, which had become infected after a bike accident Friday morning. 
 
When one of the residents here heard about it, he said, “I hope that doesn’t stop you from riding a bike again.”  I assured him that it wouldn’t.  I will reconsider certain choices (such as taking the dog along on a leash), but I won’t let fear ruin my enjoyment and exercise. 

This morning, at our online discussion group, when covering tomorrow’s readings, as we do every week, a phrase from the first reading stirred my heart as it often does when I read it:

There is no salvation through anyone else,
nor is there any other name under heaven
given to the human race by which we are to be saved.” (Acts 4:12)
 
It also reminded me of a beautiful song about the Name of Jesus.
 
This message, proclaimed by St. Peter over 2,000 years ago is timeless.  As I thought more about this, I realized how pertinent this message is for us today!
 
As we eagerly wait for an end to this pandemic and the craziness surrounding it, I am reminded that, in the end, nothing else will save us but the Name of Jesus. 
 
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking the efforts of the scientific community and the government.  These have their place. 
 
However, I think this passage today serves as a reminder, a call, to redirect our trust, to refocus our hearts.
 
As we hope for better days, we don’t focus on the numbers, we don’t trust in vaccines or treatments. 

Also, we need not become entrenched in fear and discouragement at all the unrest around our country and world.
 
Instead, we trust in Jesus, in Whose Name we find salvation.

I’d invite you to pray with me the Litany of the Most Holy Name of Jesus, which invokes Jesus using many beautiful titles for Him. 
 
Let’s turn to Jesus, bringing Him all the world’s problems and our own. 
 
I especially like to do this at the Mass, placing everything on the altar to be brought into His sacrifice made present there.