The Last Culinary Creation of the Decade!

My brain and my spirit aren’t really registering that a new decade is upon us, but I am in a celebratory mood nonetheless.

The end of this year (the Winter Solstice, to be exact) brought with it my friend’s 30th birthday. I had tried to get some hints and found out that she wanted a rainbow cake—you know, one of those cakes with six layers, each a different color of the rainbow?!

Well, voilà!

Happy Birthday, Breanna! And Happy New Year (and New Decade) to you all!

Let us continue to walk in the holy presence.

Come, O Radiant Dawn

Yesterday we prayed to the Radiant Dawn, Oriens, on the Winter Solstice. The truth of our human life is that we are constantly in-between. And yesterday’s celebration of the winter solstice has never made it feel more true.

The heavens welcomed two of our sisters, Mary B and Dorothy, twelve hours apart into the choir of angels, just in time for Christmas. It was a day of waiting in the in-between as we vigiled and prayed.

In the in-between I learned how to make empanadas with my friend who is Argentinian...a joy-filled experience that made me even more excited about the holidays. You can see how my cinching improved from bottom to top!

And the chapel is very much herself in-between as the Advent wreath still enjoys its place as the focal point of our worship, but the Christmas tree has also made its appearance.

And we enjoy what the winter light does for this space, especially as the Solstice brings back the sun.

So, as I reflect on all that it means to be in-between people, I pray for the grace to welcome both life and death, light and darkness, joy and sorrow, harvest and drought, certitude and mystery. May Mary-of-the Bathtub cleanse me of my close-mindedness as I practice saying “Yes” to it all!

Let us walk in the holy presence.

A Smattering of Advent Days

I think the winter decorations in the monastery (note: not Christmas decorations!) did their job this weekend. The snowpeople seem to have warded off the predicted storm, bringing us a lot of rain instead. (Go check out the new scene in the basement hallway!)

You can see that the rain even melted the lingering snow, and the birds have been enjoying their winter meals!

But the highlight of the weekend came with the opportunity to see Mannheim Steamroller perform on Friday evening at the Warner. I think my favorite song was We Three Kings, but you can hear their version of Fum, Fum, Fum below.

At evening praise tomorrow night we will begin chanting the O Antiphons, beseeching Wisdom to come and guide our way to knowledge.

The days are full of joy, indeed.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Paring Down

Although we in the monastery are not immune from the busyness of December, we do enjoy the peaceful calm of Advent as our chapel changes into a blue sanctuary, our songs often become simple mantras during prayer, and we try as desperately as possible to keep the Christmas decorations at bay. (Yes, I will admit that I did watch A Charlie Brown Christmas while visiting home last week!)

Here is a simple, yet profound poem from Irene Zimmerman titled Incarnation that reminds us to simply say “Yes!” during these days of waiting for the fullness of Christ to enter our world.

In careful hands
God held the molten world—
fragile filigree
of unfinished blown glass.

Then Mary’s word: Yes!
rose like a pillar of fire.
and Breath blew creation
into Christed crystal.

May your Advent days be filled with a peace, simple and holy.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

A Double Rainbow

Well, it's a not a double rainbow exactly, but this is the time of year best for seeing the colorful reflection of our stained-glass windows in chapel. The sun needs to be out for the full display of this most wonderful sight, an increasingly-rare occasion as the winter months arrive. Saturday happened to be one of those days graced with light.

It never gets old.

The lovely weather also afforded us a perfect day for our first walk on the trail at Winter Green Gorge. It sort of feels like "the Wissahickon of Erie," as I have decided to call it. It made me feel like I was back in Philadelphia at my favorite spot in the city.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Celebrating the In-Between

Yesterday we celebrated an "in-between" moment of our community history as we marked the 50th anniversary of the Mount, the monastery where we live today. Fifty years ago the community moved from its inner-city motherhouse on East 9th Street seven miles east to Harborcreek. We can call that period an "in-between" time because the move occurred amidst Vatican II and the renewal of religious communities.

By entering into a new home, it called for renewal of customs and traditions that had been familiar to the sisters. This allowed the community to create a much more open way of life. Hearing the stories of this time gave me, yet again, a deeper appreciation for the sacrifices of our sisters to turn the Mount into the welcoming and loving monastery it is today. I especially appreciate the Sisters '66 show that was a fundraiser for the project.

Happy Birthday to our home!

It is also very much an "in-between" moment in the year as noted on a long, sunny walk yesterday afternoon.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Listen With the Ear of Your Heart

I was happy to come across a nice article in the Philadelphia Inquirer about some work being done in Philadelphia by some people I know. Can radical listening transform prison culture? The project is called Just Listening and works to bring listening hearts to places where those ears and hearts are greatly needed. Very good stuff.

This weekend I enjoyed a little getaway with a friend in State College—a welcome change of pace: lingering mornings, quiet evenings, quality conversation. A gift.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Glass work, Firebird by Etsuko Nishi in the Palmer Museum of Art at Penn State

Glass work, Elegance by Danny Perkins

The Harp by Augusta Savage (replica)

our own masterpiece, a fall feast!

a quirky pumpkin in the front yard

Preparing to Hibernate

Yes, even though we can still feel the warmth of our sun in the afternoon, we are definitely preparing for winter. The clocks have turned, and this weekend we put out the bird feeders—with even more locations this year—in the inner courtyard, too! We are hoping the birds will come to greet our sisters and bring some much needed winter cheer and light.

This year we’ve also “enhanced” our feeder collection! One cathedral-like home given us by another sister, as well as another caged feeder that advertises as “squirrel-proof!” Fingers crossed!

And even though it isn't officially winter, this poem always helps me as I linger in many layers through the cold months.

The Winter Wood Arrives
Mary Oliver

I think
     I could have
          built a little house
               to live in

with the single cord—
     half seasoned, half not—
          trucked into the
               driveway and

tumbled down. But, instead,
     friends came
          and together we stacked it
               for the long, cold days

that are—
     maybe the only sure thing in the world—
          coming soon.
               How to keep warm

is always a problem,
     isn’t it?
          Of course, there’s love.
               And there’s prayer.

I don’t belittle them,
     and they have warmed me,
          but differently,
               from the heart outwards.

Imagine
     what swirls of frost will cling
          to the windows, what white lawns
               I will look out on

as I rise from morning prayers,
     as I remember love, that leaves yet never leaves,
          as I go out into the yard
               and bring the wood in

with struggling steps,
     with struggling thoughts,
          bundle by bundle,
               to be burned.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

what I believe to be fothergilla

Fall and Falls

It was one of those autumn days that makes you wonder if it really is the "last day" of summer. Cool in the morning, but warm and wonderfully sunny by the afternoon.

How fortuitous that my parents had come up for a visit and that we had already decided to make a trip up to Niagara Falls after a very, very cold attempt last year.

A small glimpse of the appropriately-named Rainbow Bridge...

And a ride on Maid of the Mist...

And yes, there still have been two more "last days" of summer that followed Saturday. Glory be to these splendid days!

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Searching for God

Psalm 84 begins this way (from the translation we pray in our office book):

How lovely is your dwelling place,
God of Life.

I am longing and yearning,
Yearning for your presence.
My whole being cries out to you,
To you, the living God.

Even the sparrows find a home,
And the swallows a nest for their young.
As for me, I search for you,
God of Life, Eternal One.

We prayed this psalm on Sunday at morning praise, and it was those last two lines that got me.
“I search for you, God of Life.”

It’s all I really want to do—search for God, the One who gives me life. Maybe it resonated more this past Sunday because it’s been almost two years since I made my first vows to God—to search for the Divine Presence in and with this community.

What have I found? Mostly just the reality of being human—challenge, sadness, confusion, clarity, abundant joy, and plenty of love.

I shouldn’t have expected much more, I guess!

Let us journey on, sister sparrows!

Let us walk in the holy presence.

passion flower

Life and Death

I enjoyed some quiet time this weekend, taking the opportunity to reflect on a few different parts of my life.

As I looked out the window, I couldn’t help but notice how the autumn season was displaying herself.

The fullness of life and death all in one view. It reminded me of the liturgical environment created two years ago in chapel when one of our sisters made her perpetual profession—another display of life and death exhibited through nature.

That is what the vows that we, as monastics, profess are all about—embracing the inevitable death of some parts of ourselves that must happen in order to experience the fullness of life.

The self-centeredness, the desire to accumulate, the close-mindedness—all of this and more must go.

What parts of yourself do you need to embrace to live and to celebrate life? What parts must slowly fade, like what we witness in nature during these autumn days?

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond 
Mary Oliver

As for life,
I’m humbled,
I’m without words
sufficient to say

how it has been hard as flint,
and soft as a spring pond,
both of these
and over and over,

and long pale afternoons besides,
and so many mysteries
beautiful as eggs in a nest,
still unhatched

though warm and watched over

by something I have never seen —
a tree angel, perhaps,
or a ghost of holiness.

Every day I walk out into the world
to be dazzled, then to be reflective. 
It suffices, it is all comfort —
along with human love,

dog love, water love, little-serpent love,
sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds
flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about

stopping, and lying down at last
to the long afterlife, to the tenderness
yet to come, when
time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever, 

and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death,
I can’t wait to be the hummingbird,
can you?

Announcing Your Place

The other night we walked over to the lake for sunset. A perfectly gorgeous end-of-summer evening, all was in harmony.

A friend had also reminded me that we are nearing that moment of beautiful natural synchronicity when the temperature of the evening air matches the temperature of the lake. Into the water I stepped.

And then I saw this right over my head...

And how can I resist?

Wild Geese

Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Closer and Closer

We attended another formation weekend in Villa Maria, PA. These are formation weekends where we hear a speaker while interacting with others in initial formation from different communities as well as those journeying with us. Nancy Schreck, a Franciscan sister, spoke to us on the vow of poverty, in a conversation titled, “The Terrible Grace of Poverty.” She gave us great food for mental fodder.

What makes me chuckle about these weekends is that we call them “Total Formation weekends.” Yes, I know it takes a different meaning than the one that brings me a laugh, but “total formation”...ha. When will that happen?

I thought about the phrase while I walked on Saturday morning. I decided I would keep my eyes open for photos that I could post here. Enjoy some of them below. But towards the end of the walk, I saw young ivy crawling up a wall; the contrast between the green ivy and cement brick caught my eye. I tried to find the right framing for the photo, and I found myself moving in—closer and closer.

As I moved closer and closer, I kept becoming aware of more and more complexity and detail in the ivy’s growth. See that newest growth right at the top? Look closely. As we move closer and closer to God’s “total” embrace, may we continue recognizing more and more that Love is the only true thing calling us to grow.

Let us walk in the holy presence.