Rest in Peace

The monastic cemetery, taken by Sister Nancy Bauer

Ione, please don't rest in peace!

This seems to be the year of losing friends. Losing Ione was quite different. We were the dearest of friends as young nuns. Our lives changed as we went different ways. New friendships formed. New relationships became primary. After 40 plus years, we reconnected. Then, Ione up and dies. I happened to be close by and most everyone who knew us said it was a “God-thing” I was here.

If it's a “God-thing,” maybe I'm here to say what lots of people may be thinking but too close to say out loud.

When people we love die, we miss them.
INCREDIBLY.

Grief can be such a kick in the gut.

It leaves a forever hole.

But our faith tells us death should be a celebration. For the first few weeks, maybe months, I say, “Poppycock!”

How can anyone honestly go about celebrating? Perhaps a body destroyed by sickness is left behind. Maybe dementia/Alzheimer's has already killed the spirit. But, the person we know may be as happy as a lark shedding that body like a cocoon and popping out exploding in colors too intense to describe.

REST IN PEACE.

To say this is really kind of silly, don't you think?

It's you and me and all the friends of Ione who should be told to REST IN PEACE!

That RIP is really for those left behind. We need rest. We need peace.

For God's sake, for our loved one's sake, let's toast them with a new kind of RIP—

RUN INTO PASSIONATE love!

Wasn't that God's goal for all of us?

Pat Pickett, OblSB

Voracious Reader

Photo: Fish-eye view of a bookshelf, taken by Sister Nancy Bauer

When I discovered reading, there was no stopping me. I was one of those kids who hid in the closet at night, thinking my parents wouldn’t realize I had the light on in there so I could read. Alas, my mother had X-ray perception and always knew what I was doing. I thought that if I was okay being tired the next day, that was my prerogative, but mom thought otherwise. She was also irked when I forgot the sugar in the banana bread I was baking for supper or burned the beans while cooking and reading at the same time. Even so, I was not deterred. I found other ways to read about exciting worlds and places beyond my narrow existence (at least I thought it was narrow!).

Ah, yes, even though I loved reading at an early age, I have only become fonder of it over time. I read almost every genre but am especially drawn to mystery (I try to solve the mystery before the end of the book), murder mystery and crime fiction. However, I’m also fond of the latest books to hit the bestseller list. I like to make my own judgment as to what makes a “bestseller.”

Fiction seems to draw me more than nonfiction because I love the characters authors create. I experience deep emotions and cry mega-tears when something tragic happens. Of course, I have my favorite authors who become almost like friends when they keep producing the characters and adventures I love. I wait with bated breath for their next book. Biographies are excellent nonfiction choices, however. Truthfully, I dismiss nothing that my eye falls upon and seems intriguing because I can always expand my horizons. Actually, I love all that I can potentially learn from reading!

Mary Jane Berger, OSB

It Was a Puzzle

Photo: Magda Ehlers from Pexels

With blizzard conditions roaring out of doors, the puzzle purchased lay in wait for such a time as this. T'was a puzzle alright, just a piece of it to be exact, that the dog chewed up. Never mind there were still 999 pieces left, it was the one…the one piece she’d snatched at some point during the day that turned up on the rug. As we picked it up, we felt defeated before we’d even begun.

It was our very first jigsaw puzzle that we were about to attempt as a married couple, and thus it began.

How bad can it be? That thought surfaced as we trudged upstairs to empty its contents upon the table. The picture on the box looked pretty enough, so why was I skeptical as to what this experience had to offer over the next few weeks? I wasn’t sure, but we were about to find out.

Emptying the contents was the easy part. Turning over each piece followed suit…so far so good. He worked on his pile of pieces, and I worked on mine. Duplicating real life…we got the hang of it quickly. I was surprised as to how much satisfaction came with each piece found that was a match. Squeals of delight erupted as I shared the good news. Nary a word left his lips as he quietly worked, once again, replicating real life.

Upon entering the puzzle room on day two, I spent some time reflecting upon the one lone piece our doggy had decided to chew on. After discovering it wasn’t quite her taste, she left it lying upon the floor all trophy like. It was perhaps her way of signaling that she, too, was a participant!

Picking the piece up…we took note that each piece of a puzzle is actually made up of several layers of the same form as the dog’s saliva had loosened each one. Now dried, the one piece of the 1,000 pieces that doggy had messed with, sat in wait.

Each evening as we trod upstairs for a little puzzle time together, it was a puzzle to us as to which piece it was that the dog had chewed. Every time we could not find a matching section, we realized the one that doggy had chewed might be the one we were looking for…until we found it. Then, suspicion arose all over again with each new space needing to be filled.

Get the picture? 999 times of doubt arose over one piece that had been chewed up and spit out.

Slumped over the puzzle table one evening, I boisterously mentioned how good it felt when you find just one piece. “It sort of makes you want to keep going,” I mentioned.

Silence.

“Even if we only find 10 pieces a night, who cares, we have time…there is no rush. It’ll be fun!”

“Do you realize that we will be here for months?” He proclaimed in manly wisdom.

And, he offered, “We should have started with a 500 piece puzzle.”

I began counting. Yes, I began counting each piece laid down that had already found a home upon the table.

“What are you doing?” He bluntly asked…looking puzzled.

Upon reaching 300, I answered. “Well, we only have about 700 to go and that’s almost a 500 piece puzzle…so let’s start from here. We’re almost there!”

He stared blankly…not in the least convinced.

Tonight we will again go up to the loft and work on the puzzle. I will find pieces and squeal with delight; he will stand beside me filling in the gaps simply because he committed to it. Sometimes, just showing up is enough to spur one another on.

Hebrews 10:24–25 confirms this line of thinking. “Let us consider how we may spur one another on…not giving up meeting together…but encouraging one another…and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Amen.

Kathleen Kjolhaug, OblSB

This article was first published in Theology in the Trenches, a column written by Oblate Kathleen Kjolhaug. Posted with permission. Read more articles on her blog, Theology in the Trenches.

How to Survive Lent

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I have many memories of Lent in church. Some are really dreary memories. Why not hold out during those tedious 40 days (Sundays don’t count!) for something better. We think of the 40 days when Jesus was driven into the desert by the Holy Spirit after his baptism by John the Baptist. At his baptism, the heavens open up and a voice proclaims, “This is My beloved son in whom I am well pleased!” A lot of folks go out into the desert for renewal. I think, in a way, that it may have been that way for Jesus. God has just blessed Jesus, and God’s Spirit drives (no cars in those days) him into the desert to begin to understand what the message, “My beloved child,” is all about..

Imagine that the message is given to you. God says to each of us, “You are my beloved child.” What are we going to make of that. Look in the mirror and say to yourself, “I am God’s beloved.” That is what my life is really all about. It is not about how smart, good looking, wealthy I might be. In essence, it is saying to each of us, “Before anything else you are loved." What a difference that is going to make. That is point number one. Point number two: I have often lived my life as if that fundamental truth did not make any difference. But it does. So Lent is a time when we face the fundamental truth of God’s unconditional and unrelenting love. And, you know what? God’s love is the same for your neighbor. And, we are supposed to treat each other that way. So, think about it, pray about it, acknowledge it. As a very wise woman (Julian of Norwich) said, “God made you. God loves you, and God sustains you. Happy Lent!"

Charles Preble, OblSB

My Pet Fly

Photo: Thierry Fillieul from Pexels

If one is a people person, how does one find life with living alone? What enhances the quality of daily living? I work and meet many people at my daily full-time job; how and where does one find life at home? Yes, I welcome the time to be quiet, but I also enjoy life and have a need to be with others besides work hours.

Appreciating life in all of creation, the little as well as the big, deepens one's love for life. After coming home from work each afternoon, I have my usual routine: I pick up the newspaper, turn on the TV, sit in my recliner, turn on the lamp and begin to read the daily paper.

This particular evening, after I turned on the TV, sat down and began to read the paper, a fly comes buzzing between me and the newspaper, doing a dance, ups and downs, back and forth. It was like showing off. I let go of my right hand from the newspaper to grab a magazine, rolled it up and wanted to kill it. Then I thought, "Why do I want to kill it? I have no other living thing in my apartment, no plants and no pet. When this lone fly saw me sitting in the chair, it wanted to make an attempt to get to know me. It wasn't harming me." Instead of killing it, I decided to enjoy it. I watched it dance, landing at various spots on the paper, up and down, back and forth. I enjoyed its dance. After reading the paper, I enjoyed my evening meal, cleaned up and didn't know where the fly went. I retired for the evening; the next morning it was off to work.

The next evening coming to my apartment and having forgotten about the fly, I repeated the routine of turning on the TV, turning on the light and sat down to read the paper. Sure enough, shortly after reading the paper, the fly comes out from under the light and again is doing its dance between me and the newspaper. As if it was waiting for me. It found me more interesting than climbing up and down the wall and being by itself all day. I enjoyed watching it and was happy that I didn't kill it the evening before. I began talking to it. "How are you? Did you have a good day?" Could the fly sense something that it and I have alike? What attracted it to me? What attracted me to it? It was beginning to feel more like a "friend" than a pest.

The same encounter happened coming home after the second day and third day. The following morning when I was leaning over the bathroom sink brushing my teeth, there was the one and only fly crawling around the sink. I stopped brushing my teeth and said, "Hi." It stopped when it heard my voice. "You like being where I am; how special you are. How did you know that I was in here? People talk to their plants, why not talk to a fly?" We are becoming friends.

The following afternoon, coming home from work and turning on the TV, the lamp and sitting down to read the paper, I waited for the fly to appear. I waited and waited. No fly. I started to look around. What happened? I was missing it. It never showed up after that. I was sad.

The fly was alive. I was alive.

Is the life we share the same, differing only in levels?

Do we have the same God-given life varying only in degrees?

Does focusing in on details help one to live more fully in the present? Does appreciating the simple things in life deepen one's appreciation of all aspects of life? It does for me.

Margaret Mandernach, OSB

This story was written for Stories Like You've Never Heard Before..., a compilation of stories written by Sister Margaret Mandernach.

Gifts

Photo: Porapak Apichodilok from Pexels

Last August, I helped pack up my sister’s belongings as she was preparing to move to a smaller apartment. It was an eye-opening experience. I knew she had a lot of stuff—clothes, knick-knacks and dollar store gifts—yet nothing prepared me for what I saw on the day I helped pack up her belongings. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

She had so much stuff; a portion of her belongings were gifts. She loved to give gifts to people. Her kindness of this selfless act touched me deeply that day. It had me thinking beyond the giving of a material gift, to the gift of time she also gave to so many people. She is probably the most generous woman I know. She loves to make people happy and laugh. She loves to share her life of faith through prayer and conversation. She believes in people, going out of her way to help someone in need. Her faith and kindness are gifts she always carries with her and continues to give away. As a woman of faith, my sister models for me that anything is possible if we take time to pray and spread a little kindness.

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

Lisa Rose, OSB