Life, Life, and More Life

Life abounds at the Mount right now. Appropriately enough, I guess, since we have just been gifted with a season of Incarnation.

Yesterday two new postulants formally entered the community by knocking on the front door of the monastery. We welcome Jennifer and Jen as they continue to seek God with us. Benedict reminds us in chapter 58 of the Rule that seeking God is what matters, first and foremost, in a monk's journey. May they find what they seek, and may we all uphold them in that journey. I loved catching a few candid glimpses of the moments leading up to the Ritual of Entry.

We also enjoyed another evening of Mindful Eating last night, a project I help coordinate with three other lovely women. It was an evening of mindful snacking, which had me on my feet from 1pm until 8pm to prepare and share. The end result was totally worth it--lots of happy faces and full stomachs! The tables are always decorated so beautifully. I am grateful to those who have the talent to make a table come alive. Here's the set-up, complete with fun creatures.

And finally, life abounds on my "meditative plant table" in my room. The paper whites are growing inch-by-inch. The jade plant grows centimeter-by-centimeter. It all makes a smile grow on my face. I love the gift of green in my room.

We are blessed by the seeds of Christ planted in and around us during the Christmas season, but now, and I think others would agree, we are grateful for the return of Ordinary Time when we have space to watch those seeds begin to grow with the sense of normalcy and dailiness with which this "ordinary season" gifts us.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

New Beginnings

On Saturday evening we began our journey through the Feast of Epiphany at Vigil prayer. It is definitely one of my favorites, especially with the handbells accompanying during the opening processional; it's just beautiful.

But the thing that caught my eye this year was a little stink bug who somehow got stuck on his back by the poinsettias and candles in the center of chapel. Probably having come in on our Christmas tree, or simply some other way seeking warmth, he struggled the entire time to get himself turned over. That's one of the fun parts of sitting in the front row of chapel--catching these little glimpses.

I had every intention of going over after prayer ended to help him out, but as soon as the recessional began, I saw him begin to scurry away. He got himself going the right way on his own, and off he went. Although it was a stink bug, it was rather precious to watch his little journey--a bit epiphanic for myself as it brought to mind a Mary Oliver favorite, Song of the Builders.

On a summer morning
I sat down
on a hillside
to think about God –

a worthy pastime.
Near me, I saw
a single cricket;
it was moving the grains of the hillside

this way and that way.
How great was its energy,
how humble its effort.
Let us hope

it will always be like this,
each of us going on
in our inexplicable ways
building the universe.

There are many small epiphanies along the way that help us seek our true work for building the universe. I didn't even know how stink bugs help to build the universe before a quick Google search. It seems that in some cases they don't (like if myriads were to come into your home for warmth), but in other cases they themselves help control pest problems in crops.

I think this Mary Oliver poem is a worthy reflection for Epiphany and as we enter into the new year. May you each travel your own way.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

an overcast day at the lake.

Simple Joys

Besides the chickadee visiting my window feeder (which I have yet to capture on camera), there have been simple joys abounding between Christmas and New Year’s at the Mount, as well as a visit home in between the two.

One of my favorite yearly joys: the lights on the bare magnolia tree in the inner courtyard that shine each night.

Trying a new vegetable: I tasted for the first time tat soi, a relative of bok choy, while cooking a meal full of flavor with a dear friend at home.

A new, silly pair of socks that came as a gift (and wearing someone else’s slippers when one doesn’t pack her own!)

The best, most appropriate card that I received—given by a friend, made by an artist in Minnesota.

A unique variety of Poinsettia in the Eucharistic chapel...additionally the sister that also spotted it and bent over to give it a big kiss in gratitude for the beauty it shares with us.

A celebratory set of ribbons adorning my shoe collection outside my door!

May your year be full of simple joys. May you be present to them. May your gratitude run deeply for them. Happy New Year!

Let us walk in the holy presence.

A Christmas Miracle, in verse

A gift certificate,
So, a Christmas dinner—
Rescheduled once or twice.

Two friends,
Open a door of books
And a bottle of wine
To enter into conversation
And communion.

Still hungry?
Ice cream, always.
McDonald’s—
The simplest of cones.

Christmas gift exchange—
Why not?

In the parking lot on 12th Street,
Unwrapped gifts
Wrapped discreetly—and quickly—in scarves,
Also newspaper and blue ribbon.

Thoughtful and simple,
Coffee, Marian images.
A Christmas moment
To remember.

The miracle of friendship.


Yes, my dear friend and I ended up exchanging gifts in a bit of an impromptu manner last week. It was perfectly us, especially as Annie Lennox’s incredible version of The First Noel and First Aid Kit played in the background.

Christmas is here. God is with us, indeed.

Merry Christmas to you, one and all. Many, many blessings and miracles be with you.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

I saw a sister of mine come into the community room sans shoes. I pointed this out to her. She said she was hoping someone would notice. Look at those socks! Ho, ho, ho!

Loved Like That

A friend of mine recently shared a poem by Marie Howe with me. It is called Annunciation.

Even if I don’t see it again—nor ever feel it

I know it is—and that if once it hailed me

it ever does— 

And so it is myself I want to turn in that direction

not as towards a place, but it was a tilting

within myself,

as one turns a mirror to flash the light to where

it isn’t—I was blinded like that—and swam

in what shone at me

only able to endure it by being no one and so

specifically myself I thought I’d die

from being loved like that.

Beyond being a gorgeous piece of writing, it's just the right poem to take me into Christmas. The monastery is doing a great job of keeping us in Advent though. Not too many signs of Christmas have popped up yet, besides a bit of fruitcake, a few wreathes, and other smaller signs. We do try to make an effort, but Friday night the tree will come to grace the center of the community room; we will decorate it, bless it, and sing carols around it, as the most senior sister turns on its lights. It's one of my favorite traditions, among the myriad ones that come alive each year at this time in the monastery. It definitely is starting to feel of that "in-between time" as Advent ends and the Christmastide begins.

It's nearly impossible for me to feel anything less than deep, deep love as we join to celebrate with our community of Oblates, friends, and family. Christmas affords us a significant time to treasure the beauty of being human, of being so deeply loved by God. As we will sing in what might be my favorite tradition--Christmas Eve Vigil prayer--"Emmanuel, Emmanuel, who we are that you have loved us so well?"

May we turn in that direction, always tilting toward Love.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

a lovely Christmas scene at a recent dinner

Sun-days

Curious, distant
Bright sensation on my face
Who is this stranger?

Sunday has taken its name seriously the past two weeks—a gift amidst the necessary, preparatory darkness of Advent. Erie gets a little bleak this time of year as we wait for the Solstice to give us hope; needless to say, days like this are extraordinary moments. (I even write a haiku, or two!)

I got outside for a bike ride and a walk these two Sundays. I cranked up my current favorite band, First Aid Kit. I allowed nature to do its thing to my soul. There is little I can think of more satisfying than making it to the top of one of the longer hills that I hike up on two wheels on East Lake, but the view is, without fail, worth it.

I think a lot about the barrenness of these winter months, especially when I am outside, especially seeing the empty grape vines that were so recently full of fragrance, especially during Advent when the goal is to make space to live an authentic Christian life as our true Hope emerges again.

Don't think the garden loses

it's ecstasy in winter. It's quiet.

But the roots are down there riotous.

Rumi, too, gives us poetic hope. I take great comfort in these words each winter, but it takes great effort to get to that point. Trust is hard enough with others, but to trust ourselves and God at work in our lives--that's an entirely different ball game!

Advent is such an opportune moment to practice our trust and our hope--so intertwined they are--especially in this liturgical season. May our Christian life be the practice we need.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

a taste of First Aid Kit

An Advent PSA

This was the minute no one speaks of,
when she could still refuse.

A breath unbreathed,
      Spirit,
           suspended,
                waiting.

She did not cry, “I cannot, I am not worthy,”
nor, “I have not the strength.”
She did not submit with gritted teeth,
             raging, coerced.
Bravest of all humans,
      consent illumined her.
The room filled with its light,
the lily glowed in it,
   and the iridescent wings.
Consent,
   courage unparalleled,
opened her utterly.

Consent, Denise Levertov

Let us walk in the holy presence.