As I prepared for confession today, a piece of spiritual advice came to mind.  I had heard it paraphrased years ago, probably by our youth director. 
 
St. Faustina shares these words, once directed to her: “Do not fight against a temptation by yourself but disclose it to the confessor at once, and then the temptation will lose all its force.”
 
I think the way it was put to me was that, when we confess temptations, “they lose their punch.” 
 
The recollection of this adage was good for me today as it encouraged me to bring a temptation I’d been fighting for a long time to this Sacrament of Mercy.  I hadn’t planned on doing so before this thought came to me during my preparation. 
 
I ended up having a very good confession and left with peace and courage.  I know a daily struggle still awaits me, but am hopeful that I’ll experience some of “the punch” being taking out of the temptation in this area of my life. 

​I pray that the graces of this confession may be sealed and may be fruitful in my life as I move forward “with the help of [His] grace.”

Last evening, I had a kind of wild shift in St. Mary’s (our infirmary unit).  Around 9 p.m., one of the Sisters told me that the big lights were on in chapel. 
 
There is a balcony there, we call it the choir loft, which overlooks the chapel. 
 
I had noticed the lights a little while earlier, but had kind of assumed that our chaplain was doing something in there.  Being busy, I hadn’t checked back on the situation. 
 
The concerned Sister told me that she had called out: “Is anyone in here besides Jesus?” 
 
I had to chuckle.  It was a dear, but practical witness to Our Lord’s Eucharistic presence.  She knew He was there.  What she wanted to know was if anyone else was there, explaining for this use of the lights. 
 
I told her that I would take care of it and hurried down the stairs to turn off the unused lights in the chapel. 
 
As I entered the chapel, I could here her call out her question again.  I turned off the lights and went back upstairs. 
 
Sometimes, something as mundane as conserving electricity can remind us of Christ’s love, His constant presence with us. 
 
Thanks be to God for these reminders and for the wondrous gift of the Eucharist in which He is always here!

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

I was doing a bit of reading earlier today from a book discussing the Divine Mercy devotions.  
 
Interestingly, the author was trying to make a distinction between one of St. Faustina’s experiences and other some visions of saints.  He mentioned how, at that time, children outside of her convent had been drawn by a bright light coming from there, concluding that Jesus had actually come to the saint’s cell in His glorified body.  
 
I had never heard this before and found it thought-provoking, if nothing else.  
 
Without giving this assertion much additional consideration, I went on with my day, which included a visit to the Blessed Sacrament for some prayer time.  
 
As I was praying before the tabernacle, it dawned on me that Jesus had actually come here in His glorified body as well.  
 
In the tabernacle, there He was…there He is!  
 
We are so blessed!  We need not be a mystic or visionary to experience our Lord’s physical presence!  
 
I am not meaning, in any measure, to diminish the significance of one of the greatest saints of the past century, but, these reflections stirred my heart to greater appreciation for the gift of Christ’s Eucharistic presence.
 
His wondrous, physical presence is only as far away as the nearest tabernacle!
 
In the meantime, before I visit Him next there, I remain grateful for His presence with us spiritually.
 
He is faithful to His promise: “…I am with you always, until the end of the age!”

What a beautiful fall day! 
 
After work at the front desk, reading hour for our residents, and a little time in chapel, I headed outside to our garden.  I needed to pull the sheets off our peppers that I had placed there last night in case of frost.
 
I just had a short time before I wanted to head over for confession at the local church. 
 
While out in the back yard, I found another squash growing and a couple of tomatoes that were more than ready to be picked.  I brought the tomatoes inside before heading on my way.
 
It was the perfect day for a reflective walk to and from! 
 
As I returned home, it struck me that I could make good on my recent resolution to “avoid the near occasion of sin” by peeling carrots – of all things! 
 
We didn’t have any carrots in our garden, but there’d been a bag of purchased ones in our refrigerator for about of month. 
 
They were just waiting to be eaten. 
 
Instead I, far too easily, grab the nearest high-carb, low-nutrient, food item despite my intent to cut back and eat healthier. 
 
I was prompted, as I walked down the sidewalk, surrounded by beautiful golden leaves and turning trees, to avoid temptation by making healthier food more accessible…a tangible, easy step was buried on the bottom shelf of our fridge! 
 
I got back, and used some of the short time I had in peeling and cutting up several delicious carrots. 
 
I even had a few moments to practice organ for tomorrow before having to be back at the front desk to give the other receptionist a supper break! 

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!

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!”

This morning at Mass, I happened to look up after Communion to see Father purifying the sacred vessels, the chalice and ciborium, just used to hold the precious Body and Blood of the Lord.  (As I type this, I am awed by the mere thought!) 

(I am probably a bit more mindful of these things since I have the job of setting up for Mass and taking care of neccessities surrounding this.)

I pondered the history behind why these vessels are always made of highly valued metals.  It does make sense, though, in light of their amazing purpose.  They are made to hold the One whom even the highest heavens cannot contain (1 Kings 8:27). 

As I reflected, I though, too, of the song "Earthen Vessels," which draws from a passage from 2 Corinthians; it says that "we hold this treasure in earthen vessels."  Having just received Communion, we were holding Jesus within our bodies, physically.  Despite our fragility and our sinfulness, we are given this privilege!  

Through the reception of the Blessed Sacrament, and through God's presence with us throughout our day, we truly do hold a Treasure!  We can be deeply grateful for that in the midst of these trying times.

Is it just me, or have the last three and a half months been especially challenging, stretching us in unprecedented ways?
 
This has definitely been my experience, in more ways than one.  Working in a long-term care setting at this time can certainly be described as “stressful.” 
 
Between being on high alert, sanitizing surfaces and taking temperatures, etc. to dealing with tensions that arise from people being frazzled and exhausted, to facing uncertainty and seemingly constant changes, these times certainly take their toll on a person.
 
I am reminding myself, as I write this post, to be careful not to let this stress get the better of me!  (I’ll admit that it has, on occasion, in the past.) I need to try not to be short or unkind with others as a result of the pressure. I am so grateful for the fresh start given in the Sacrament of Reconciliation!
 
I’m glad, too, that all of this struggle does not go to waste. 
 
Years ago, I learned to offer all this “stuff” of my daily life, the “prayers, works, joys, and suffering,” as well as any concerns, placing it on the altar (in my mind’s eye) at the time of the offertory at Mass.
 
Not only can I bring these challenges to Jesus during private prayer in front of the tabernacle (or throughout the day), I can also lay them all before Him, on the altar, when “assisting” at Mass.

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 line from one of my favorite hymns (Lord, Who at Thy First Eucharist) has come to mind for me in recent days.  

Saturday, we finished the week of prayer for Christian Unity as we celebrated the feast of St. Paul's conversion.  

This past week, we've had a visitor from out west, a family member of one of our residents.  It has been a pleasure getting to know her a little.  Her willingness to share her Christian faith and her love for our Lord have been an inspiration to me, although she is not Catholic.  

I invited her to join us for Mass Sunday morning, and she said she might do that.  I actually ended up sitting near her for much of the liturgy, although I did have to get up for the reading and psalm, etc.  

As the Mass proceeded, I wondered if she knew that she wasn't supposed to receive Communion, and how to handle this without hurting her feelings or causing a stir.  I really hoped I wouldn't have to do anything, and prayed for the situation.  ​

The whole situation was resolved seamlessly.  At communion time, she stood, watching people, clearly unsure of what to do.  I was able to whisper to her that she could just be seated, and that settled things.  I was grateful.

It is sad, to me, though, that there is lack of unity between Christians, that our brothers and sisters who share our love for Christ and faith in Him, are not able to share also in the richest of His blessings, the other sacraments and especially the Eucharist.  

Please join me in praying for unity of Christians and that our separated brothers and sisters may find the fullness of the faith. 

The words of the above-mentioned hymn can be a beautiful prayer to this end and can provide rich content for meditation.

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