Sunday, July 28, 2019

Happy Jubilee!

We celebrated the commitment of four of our sisters this weekend here at the monastery. Three sisters celebrated their Golden Jubilee, or 50 years of religious life. Another celebrated her Silver Jubilee, or 25 years.

It is a rather tender and moving ceremony: the statio, or monastic procession into chapel of the community preceded by the litany of deceased sisters; the praying of psalms specially selected for the day by the sisters celebrating; the renewal of vows; and my personal favorite—the singing of the Suscipe, a back and forth between the sisters and the community as we repeat:

Uphold me, O God, according to Your word
And I shall live,
And do not fail me in my hope.

It made me teary-eyed, yes. To think of living these vows of stability, obedience, and conversatio with steadfastness, for better or worse, through whatever life brought—wow, wow, wow!

It gives me such hope as I grapple with what my commitment to these vows looks like, with what it means for me to say “yes” to the monastic life here in a community of ninety women, with my own discernment journey. To know that I have said yes to a tradition so much grander than simply my own yes, to feel the love of so many women—some that I know here and now, some that I have never met...days like these are sure treasures along the way.

Congratulations and blessings to you all, Rosanne, Sue, Jacinta, and Ann. I am grateful—so grateful.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

A quiet start to the morning—so peaceful, and such luxury—summer

The melons waiting to be filled with sweet ripeness

The tables decorated with photography by Ann and Sue

Jubilee candle holders ready to go

I went in for a sneak preview of chapel.

Sunday, July 21, 2019

There Is Need of Only Rhythm

Jesus entered a village
where a woman whose name was Martha welcomed him.
She had a sister named Mary
who sat beside at his feet listening to him speak.
Martha, burdened with much serving, came to him and said,
"Do you not care
that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving?
Tell her to help me."
Jesus said to her in reply,
"Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things.
There is need of only one thing.
Mary has chosen the better part
and it will not be taken from her."

(Luke 10:38-42)


The gospel story of Mary and Martha has long been a favorite of mine, with the reasons why evolving. And I was thrilled to see that it was today’s gospel reading, especially since one of my favorite presiders said our Liturgy.

George is a bit of a “mystical presider,” and when you listen to his homilies, you simply have to be ready to let it take you where it’s going to go. Today he said of Mary and Martha, “It’s rhythmic,” and I just loved that.

So often I let my Martha side get the best of me, especially when I am trying to focus on my Mary side. Or vice versa.

In my contemplation, I worry, “Am I serving enough?”
In my serving, I worry, “Am I contemplating enough?”

Rather than get anxious about what’s right for me, I just want to be present to life, however it is presenting itself at the moment.

How do we live into the peace of our own rhythms?

Let us walk in the holy presence.

contemplative summer cooking

Wednesday, July 17, 2019

Can We Agree?

There Is A Place Beyond Ambition
Mary Oliver

When the flute players
couldn’t think of what to say next

they laid down their pipes,
then they lay down themselves
beside the river

and just listened.
Some of them, after a while,
jumped up
and disappeared back inside the busy town.
But the rest—
so quiet, not even thoughtful—
are still there,

still listening.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Monday, July 8, 2019

Focused on Gratitude with Mary as Guide

Mary Oliver's wonderful poem, Gratitude, arrived in my inbox while I was away on vacation visiting with friends in Acadia National Park. I couldn't help but use it as a reflection on my journey through Maine. I've used it before, but I can't think of a time when I don't want to re-visit an MO poem!

Mary's version:
What did you notice?

The dew snail;
the low-flying sparrow;
the bat, on the wind, in the dark;
big-chested geese, in the V of sleekest performance;
the soft toad, patient in the hot sand;
the sweet-hungry ants;
the uproar of mice in the empty house;
the tin music of the cricket’s body;
the blouse of the goldenrod.

What did you hear?

The thrush greeting the morning;
the little bluebirds in their hot box;
the salty talk of the wren,
then the deep cup of the hour of silence.

What did you admire?

The oaks, letting down their dark and hairy fruit;
the carrot, rising in its elongated waist;
the onion, sheet after sheet, curved inward to the
pale green wand;
at the end of summer the brassy dust, the almost liquid
beauty of the flowers;
then the ferns, scrawned black by the frost.

What astonished you?

The swallows making their dip and turn over the water.

What would you like to see again?

My dog: her energy and exuberance, her willingness,
her language beyond all nimbleness of tongue, her
recklessness, her loyalty, her sweetness, her
sturdy legs, her curled black lip, her snap.

What was most tender?

Queen Anne’s lace, with its parsnip root;
the everlasting in its bonnets of wool;
the kinks and turns of the tupelo’s body;
the tall, blank banks of sand;
the clam, clamped down.

What was most wonderful?

The sea, and its wide shoulders;
the sea and its triangles;
the sea lying back on its long athlete’s spine.

What did you think was happening?

The green breast of the hummingbird;
the eye of the pond;
the wet face of the lily;
the bright, puckered knee of the broken oak;
the red tulip of the fox’s mouth;
the up-swing, the down-pour, the frayed sleeve
of the first snow—

so the gods shake us from our sleep.

My version:

What did you notice?
Clear water all around, the smell of
fresh pine all around
Nature giving itself in relationship to each of us,
each of us willing to enter

What did you hear?
The silence of the busy mountain in the early morning
as the sun rose to greet us with a new day

What did you admire?
The intentionality of life on Mount Desert Island; the conservation
of resources, the awareness of nature as gift, the appreciation of community 
 as a reality of being human.

What astonished you?
The simplicity of the Roosevelt’s summer home
on Campobello Island, much simpler
than homes we find along the shore or in the suburbs today.
Plus, a harmonious relationship between nations on display.


What would you like to see again?
The lupine in season, flooding the fields with purple beauty

What was most tender?
Dear friends and their presence...simply that.

What was most wonderful?
The flavors! Lobster; blueberries; simple, fresh meals
shared as eucharist.

What did you think was happening?
The experience of the joy of life lived in fullness.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Tuesday, July 2, 2019

Making a Return

I have been away enjoying vacation in beautiful Maine with dear friends. Suffice it to say, I have a few thoughts to share, but still in recovery mode I am. Let the beauty speak for itself. More to come.








Let us walk in the holy presence.

Pax in Terra: A Meditation from Pema Chödrön

" One of the astronauts who went to the moon later described his experience looking back at Earth from that perspective. Earth looked s...