Remembering the World's Greatest

Photo: Pexels.com

Doris Day, Herman Wouk, Jean Vanier—lived long lives and died this past month. We will remember the names, faces and reputations that conjure up images of great contributions to the world.

Doris Day made people laugh through her own infectious laugh. Her plethora of films support her desire to entertain. Remember her bungling self in "Roman Holiday"? She and Rock Hudson were foils for one another. She is sometimes called “America’s Sweetheart” or “the girl next door,” but for sure she portrayed laughter and innocence. Some of her romantic songs, such as “Que Sera Sera” or “Sentimental Journey,” will be long remembered and sung.

Herman Wouk, writer extraordinaire, lived to be 103 and wrote historical fiction that revealed incredible research in order to capture key historical moments related to World War II. Readers consider his blending of fictional characters into real settings of the war especially effective in creating a reality not accomplished by many other writers. Among his most memorable works are The Caine Mutiny, for which he won a Pulitzer Prize, Winds of War and War and Remembrance.

And Jean Vanier, founder of L’Arche communities, leaves a legacy of love. His international communities for the intellectually disabled makes him a savior of the people on the margins. Philosopher, humanist and writer, this man lived to teach the world how to become more fully human. Two of his books, Becoming Human and Life’s Great Questions, attest to his search in discovering the gift of marginalized people.

Mary Jane Berger, OSB

Alternative Mother's Day

Photo: Karen Streveler, OSB

Twenty-five billion dollars spent on cards, flowers, jewelry, dinners, spa days and other gifts for Mother’s Day.

Let me say that I do not begrudge any mother who was celebrated with gifts, but that staggering figure made me wonder if we might be ready for an alternative Mother’s Day.

My Alternative Mother’s Day might offer suggestions on how to honor all moms all year. It might begin with asking a simple question: Who are the moms I know? To be honest, don’t advertisers have an homogenized white, suburban, middle class, super mom in mind?

What about mothers who have had abortions? Might we step back and give them the benefit of the doubt? Might we admit that we have no idea what let them to this painful decision? Might we ask God to just hug them? Could we hug them?

There are mothers who stood at the border while their children were taken from them. Might we educate ourselves just a little to find out why mothers brought children on such a dangerous journey?
Moms in prison, for the most part, are not hardened criminals. What would it take for any of us to visit moms in prison?

Moms in hijabs? Mothers who can only support their children by prostitution? Single mothers? Homeless moms?

There are women who want to be mothers but are unable to conceive and biological mothers but don’t want to be mothers.

Then there are women who are not biological moms but have given their very lives to be mothers to many, many children. Right now I’m thinking of all the sisters at St. Ben’s who mothered me through different stages of my life.

There are many kinds of mothers. Who would you include in an Alternate Mother’s Day? What kind of honoring would make sense?

Pat Pickett, OblSB

A Day in the Life of Blue Bonnet

Blue Bonnet

Blue Bonnet is a facility dog at Shoedair Children's Hospital in Helena, Mont., where Sister Trish Dick works as a spiritual counselor with children who have undergone extreme trauma. Welcome to a day in the life of Blue Bonnet, told through Blue Bonnet's eyes!

First of all, I sleep on my favorite old couch. It probably should be thrown out, but I LOVE IT more than my dog bed and my mom’s bed. Early in the morning when it’s still dark, my mom gets up and will come and snuggle with me on the couch. I really love her belly rubs. She drinks coffee and prays. She tells me all the sisters who have died and stories. I do notice by the end of week the prayer time is shorter and she forgets to tell me stories.

I love food—especially my kibble, and it’s grain free. I am a gluten-free dog, otherwise I itch all over. Every morning, my mom feeds me a cup of kibble and a fish oil pill to make my coat shine. She gives me the look and I know to sit before I eat. She calls it more of a genuflect than a sit. Mom brushes my teeth and my coat, puts my work vest on and off we go to work. I know exactly where we are going and where the hospital is, which allows me to get a few more zzz’s of sleeping before work. I think she talks to me, but I don’t really listen.

First thing I do when I get to the hospital is check in with the CEOs when the door is open to report to work and my first pet and of course treat. My mom says he can give me treats. When we arrive in her office, I always need to check out my dog bed, my toys and my water bowl to make sure they are all ready. My mom takes me to the “spa” I call it. These ladies in the medical records department give me some treats and rub my belly and paws while I wait for mom to get me some fresh water and talk to people. She comes and gets me and off we go to see patients.

Sometimes I find patients in the halls crying or struggling and I will go give them a nudge with my nose and let them pet me. Sometimes they are too upset and sad to have me around or I might be just what they needed to get them to calm down. The patients like to play with me and my mom gives them treats (kibble) to feed me. I love it when they teach me new tricks and I learn new words. The patients think since I am a purebred golden retriever that I would like to play fetch, but I am not really interested in playing fetch. What's the point of it? I now use my nose to point to the right word association for a treat. I can tell the difference between a giraffe, donut, baby, dog and monkey. Oh, by the way, the donut is stuffed, unfortunately. My mom says I am food driven just like her. I like treats.

When we meet with patients in our office, they will snuggle with me or brush me. They say I relax them! They tell my mom sad stories and cry sometimes. My mom takes me outside for regular breaks so I can do my business and sniff around the playground. Sometimes we will walk around the hospital so I can run a little and shake off all those emotions. She even did it when it was cold and snowy. I love playing, rolling and making snow angels.

Every lunch I have my dog toy, Kong, that is stuffed with yummy treats that my mom freezes the night before. I can throw it in the air to get all the treats out and sometimes folks help me. My mom takes me to meetings and I have to walk around and greet everyone. Those meetings are the perfect time for a nap and I seem to snore at the right times, especially when things are tense or boring. By the end of the day, I am ready to go home and chill. The most irritating thing about my mom is that she is constantly forgetting things and having to go back to the office. When she finally takes my work vest off, I roll around in the grass and leave all of the hospital emotions behind. My mom and I are both dog-tired at the end of the day.

Trish Dick, OSB

Messengers

Photo: Pexels.com

I was inspired, today, by Nancy Dallavalle’s reflection, “Missing the Messenger” (Give Us This Day, 4/ 27), and by Pope Francis’ invitation to “gaze on migrants and refugees” (Journey, spring 2019).

First, Nancy! Her message is basically that our invitation to share the Good News with others may be difficult because we see it as only a one-way communication: “I have something wonderful to tell you!” How often does a preacher, evangelist, teacher check to see that the message is actually heard? And, if it is not heard, what’s wrong? Have we forgotten or are we incapable of admitting that a different evangelizer, teacher, preacher might have better skills and/or evidence at sharing the Good News...so that it really is GOOD NEWS?

Or might we need to listen to the listener who surely has something to offer in this dynamic exchange? How does my listener get my attention? Or do I miss the other messenger? “Even today, Christ stands before us in many guises and we brush them aside” (Nancy Dallavalle).

Attention! That is what Pope Francis suggests over and over in his writings and teachings, e.g. “When we turn our gaze,” he writes, “to migrants and refugees, we discover that they, too, are Messengers. They do not arrive empty-handed. They bring their courage, skills, energy and aspirations, as well as the treasures of their own cultures; and in this way, they enrich the lives of the nations that receive them.”

Indeed, Christ stands before us in many guises and we brush them aside!

Can we agree with Nancy and Pope Francis to NOT MISS one another?

Renée Domeier, OSB

Swallows

Photo: Pexels.com

My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord.

As a small child growing up in southern California, we would take trips between Santa Ana and San Diego. Shortly before we would get to the Pacific Ocean, we would pass Mission San Juan de Capistrano, best known for its swallows "always" returning on the Feast of St. Joseph. To a five-year-old, this was wondrous. I developed a fondness for those little birds and the miracle of their return so touching. I loved the mud nests they made under the eaves. How resourceful and faithful. I had an "eye" for them.

Thirteen years later, on my first visit to a Benedictine monastery, we drove up into the hills above Santa Barbara on a very narrow switchback road. Upon our arrival, the monastery at once came into view, a beautiful Mediterranean-style building. We parked and walked up the gravel path to the entrance, rang the bell and waited. I looked up to see many swallows and their clay and straw nests. Immediately, Psalm 84 came into mind: "My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord: my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God. Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God" (KJV). At that time, I was really one whose “soul longeth, yea, even fainteth” for God. I was a passionate seeker. I was the swallow who searched for a place for her nest. 

Since that time, 65 years ago, the Benedictine life has claimed me, the monasteries always that special place. When we moved to Saint Joseph, Saint Benedict’s Monastery quickly became our spiritual dwelling place as it has for so many, some of whom are called to the Oblate Way of life. It is from lives refreshed, renewed and empowered in this place among these sisters that we become transfigured to live lives serving others.

Charles Preble, OblSB

The Waiting Game

To get caught in the waiting game is never fun for me; how about you? Recently, after logging into a webinar, I had to wait for the program to begin. So how did I use this precious time of waiting? I tried to be in the moment and enjoy the environment around me. So, as I sat in the quiet library on this beautiful Saturday afternoon, I let myself be quiet. On another occasion as I sat waiting, I observed the people around me who were also waiting, some may call this activity "people watching." 

I am growing more comfortable and aware that waiting is a blessing; it gives me some time to simply sit and wait in silence. The time then becomes a gift of prayer. How often do we hear in scripture, “The people waited for Jesus to pass by in order to get a glimpse of him.” Waiting for Jesus is not a bad idea. I look at my time spent waiting with a whole new perspective now. 

At Saint Benedict’s Monastery when we gather for Liturgy of the Hours, after the gong is sounded, we stand in silence waiting for the cantor to begin our prayer. This time of silence allows me to prepare my heart for community prayer.

If you would like more information about Saint Benedict’s Monastery, please contact Sister Lisa Rose at lrose@csbsju.edu.

Lisa Rose, OSB