Daily Diary

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Frederick Buechner, one of my favorite email pastors, writes, "Even the most cursory of diaries can be of incalculable value. What the weather was doing. Who we ran into on the street. The movie we saw. The small boy at the dentist's office. The dream. Just a handful of the barest facts can be enough to rescue an entire day from oblivion—not just what happened in it, but who we were when it happened. Who the others were. What it felt like back then to be us." (info@frederickbuechner.com)

Based on his insights, I would like to extend an invitation to you and your family, these ordinary days of "lockdown" or "stay at home" changes created by coronavirus! Why not start a diary? Each day, a different member of your family could enter her/his account of what that day offered to the writer. Enough to "rescue an entire day from oblivion!" Wow!

Buechner continues: "It is a mark of wisdom to realize how precious our days are, even the most uneventful of them (although none of us would deny the weight of the events in our world in this present situation). If we can keep them alive by only a line or so about each, at least we will know what we're sighing about when the last of the them comes." (Originally published in his Beyond Words).

So, sing with me and then go write about it:

"Day by day

Day by day

Oh, dear Lord

Three things I pray

To see thee more clearly

Love thee more dearly

Follow thee more nearly

Day by day..."

The second stanza is a repetition of this one! We even have the time to sing it again...before putting pen to paper! Twenty-five years from now, others may be interested in reading our diaries! So will our children and grandchildren!

Renée Domeier, OSB

Almost Home

Front view of the Gathering Place

One thousand miles to Saint Benedict’s Monastery is an adventure on several levels.

I was driving alone. I have no sense of direction. Full disclosure: I’m ambidextrous. When you say “left or right” to me, it hardly ever makes sense. Please do not suggest a GPS. I don’t do tech very well either.

Living close to the border, getting out of Tennessee was no problem. Navigating lush green Kentucky hills quickly turned into winter grass and flatland farms of Illinois. Lucky for me, only one change in interstate.

I began to think how this graphic terrain experience could symbolize my spiritual journey. Sometimes I’m surprised by rich color of one gospel passage and how it brings me to some new understanding. Often one word will strike me with a whole new way of looking at reality. Exciting and exhilarating for the moment I’m propelled into new resolve. But! Like the flatlands, I soon find myself back in the ordinary, yearning for some new experience.

Abruptly my reflection was interrupted. I was at the Wisconsin border. Choosing the right interstate, I was confronted with a fork in the highway. Both were labeled I-94. I took the wrong one. It was getting dark. I wondered at the wisdom of driving so late in a strange place. Saw a sign for Best Western and turned in, relieved.

I realized how often I had taken the wrong fork in the road as I traveled my life journey. I’d end up having to ask forgiveness or totally change my way of living.

Morning brought light and absolution. Backtracking and crossing into Minnesota, I whispered, “Thank you, God.” Absolved. I knew I would soon see tall buildings pop up from the prairie into the bustle of Minneapolis and St. Paul.

Beyond that, the horizon would expose the DOME. My heart beat faster. As a teenager, the DOME at Saint Benedict’s became my symbol for safety and healing, for love and learning, for all I am and all I yearn to be. I was almost home.

I began to sing.

Pat Pickett, OblSB

Caring in a Crisis

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The coronavirus is confusing and frightening for millions of people. Most of us have never seen anything like it during our time. Some mislead us even out of fear, believing that God is punishing us. Jesus has come into our lives not to punish us, but to bring us into freedom. Don’t move into panic that pulls us away from God’s care and love for us. Instead, God desires to stir up courage and trust in Jesus saying, “Do not be afraid.” Many things have been cancelled because of the virus, but love is not one of them. Instead, we discover that many people are reaching out to assist our sisters and brothers. Heroic nurses and doctors work day and night to bring an end to the crisis. People of all walks of life find ways to assist one another instead of grasping only for themselves.

Kate Casper, OSB

Coloring Calm

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When I was a child, I loved coloring because it gave me the chance to choose just the right colors I wanted for making the picture mine. As nieces and nephews began to appear, I loved coloring with them because they would be totally entranced as I had always been when I was their age. This way, too, they were easy to babysit. Then I let that go for other things I wanted to do, such as crocheting and sewing, even cooking.

However, as the latest craze among crafters and people who go to craft stores started, coloring has gripped me once again. Coloring with gel pens is totally different from crayons, for one thing. I love these pens because they come in such a neat variety of colors and they do not have to be sharpened or anything. Pencil colors never were a favorite of mine, either.

For another thing, the coloring books nowadays are so cool as compared to when I was a child. I love the collections of animals, insects, butterflies and even geometric shapes. I start flipping through a book and already my fingers are twitching and my mind is assigning a tint or a shade of some color to the shapes. When this happens, I know I want this particular book. Even if there is only one really attractive design in it, I pay the dollar and then grab another one.

Sometimes, I pick out one color to start, but I have no plan of action for the rest of the picture. Other times, I know just exactly which colors I will use. I like sticking to some traditional colors; for example, I usually make leaves some shade of green, but maybe shading or showing the age of the leaf by browning some of the edges, but different shades can even give a sense of the type of leaf I’m coloring.

Zen doodling is used to design many of the coloring pages, and so sometimes I will use all the colors I have because I want to show the neat way I am matching or not matching colors. When I finish, I will often hold up the page just colored and tell myself that I just love it! Just this morning I was coloring an aardvark’s back which is designed in rows of various circles and wavy lines. So, for each of these sections I used a different color or matching colors. I’ve done other animals, such as a rooster, a hippo, a giraffe and even a rabbit this way. I just love the delightful array of colors they produce.

What’s going on in my mind when I am in a trance coloring? Sometimes nothing. Sometimes, I run encounters and conversations through and think about them, especially if they were troublesome or even wonderfully surprising. Often, I watch television and listen/watch. But, most of all, when I am ready to stop, I notice that I am very calm.

This last realization makes me understand why I have liked coloring so much. I have always been prone to anxiety and worry. I think about everything. Coloring gives me the chance to process my thoughts and feel good. Doesn’t this also mean that God is working in my life?

Mary Jane Berger, OSB

What Not to Say 101

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“Been there done that!” The words stung as they hung in the air between us. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard them, and as time would tell, it wouldn’t be the last. Tossed my way with a brush of the hand midair for emphasis, they made their mark.

My heart was tender those first years of motherhood, and I needed more from the one who’d said them. “Friendly fire” perhaps was all they were, but once out, all conversation ceased.  

Nonexistent was the click of a button providing the much needed resources that mom’s of today have access to. Some days the feelings of isolation were more than I could take. With little contact and knee deep in kiddos, the visitor who had spoken the hurtful words shredded my heart like a catch scratch.

I longed for someone who desired to connect as much as I. Her words doused any hope of support I desperately needed.

What was one to say when the visitor came by? If I couldn’t share honestly, I didn’t want to share at all. If the friendship would take away pieces of me, then I’d rather not have it. At the time, I didn’t know how to express that and so as awkward as it was, I continued to “try” my best to make the best of it, so to speak.

That particular line spoken when I was a young mama was spoken recently to another within earshot. It triggered something deep within and made me dig deeper. Soon I found myself wondering whose flames I’ve guilty of dousing intentionally or not?

I took a vow that very moment. I vowed to listen better to those around me and affirm the new being reborn within each. Whether its people’s experiences or ideas they bring forth to recreate and update the old, it’s all new…and it’s worth listening to and hearing what’s really being said.

My thoughts drifted to the coffee bar at a church recently attended. Many churches offer it these days. Most have always offered some sort of treats now and then…but today’s versions are not the coffee and cookies as of old. No, they are something quite different. Today, they represent intentionality of bringing pause into a crazy fast world in which we live. They offer comfort. They offer care for those choosing to enter in from a war zone where nary a crumb of kindness has been spoken since the last time they entered. They offer respite.

Gathering as community after church is creating an atmosphere of inclusion. It’s no mere potluck. This is a fresh face to today’s culture desiring to connect with the few minutes they have free in a space that might offer just a little reprieve from the outside forces pressing in.

That “Men’s Fraternity” which meets is not men’s Bible Study. It’s much more. It’s a group of comrades among men who desire direction in life. Their compass is all but gone as this world has become confusingly unrecognizable in a culture pushing back and pushing back hard. Where are the voices of balance? Where are the voices of reason? Where are the voices of stability in a world that is anything but? Perhaps other men have wisdom they might share and thus...they gather.

You’ve heard it said. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Perhaps. Perhaps not. If it’s the very first time one has smelled a rose, its newness excites. God stirs and as faith is not a spectator sport, we are called to participate. When the Spirit sends the flames…we do not want to douse those by merely saying, “Been there, done that.” We do not want to be on the defense by defending that which we’ve already been here doing. We do not want be territorial in areas where God is inviting others to create anew.

“For such a time as this,” rings truer than true. What a gift it would have been to hear those words as a young mom. “For such a time as this” you were created to put into the lives of your little ones. “For such a time as this” your ideas are ones of renewal which will help spur on the next generation within your home. And, “For such a time as this” you were given that idea to put a fresh face of renewal among those whom you serve.

Whether it is home or church or serving within communities may “For such a time as this” be our guide (Esther 4:14). 

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.

The Glory of Lent

Photo: Budding flowers outside the entrance gate of the
College of Saint Benedict, taken by Sister Carleen Schomer

On Valentine’s Day, we received a pot filled with bulbs just beginning to sprout, daffodils, hyacinths, tulips and others. For several weeks, each morning, at our breakfast table there would be a surprise, a wonderful message of spring and resurrection. It was a delight, and a sign of hope. It was wonderful how something so beautiful and hopeful brought us a surprise. It was life-giving.

In this long winter when spring seems far away, in this long Lent when sometimes it seems an awareness of our sins becomes unbearable, there are many signs, or as one spirit explained it, “Sacraments of the moment.” Yes, as Rabbi Abraham Heschel calls it, wonder. Wonder, amazement, surprises abound if we watch for them. Again, as Heschel writes, "Never once in my life did I ask God for success or wisdom or power or fame. I asked for wonder, and he gave it to me."

Another image for Lent is that of the desert. As one who has a passion for the desert, I have found it a place of great wonder. Some see the desert as desolate. In some ways, that is true. But I have found it a place of wonder; be it the clarity of a starlit desert night where one can be drawn into the swirl of our constellation, the way all kinds of critters can survive and really thrive, and that oh-so glorious event of desert flowers blossoming. All is glory.

Charles Preble, OblSB

Living Our Democracy

An American flag during St. Joseph's Independence
Day parade, taken by Sister Nancy Bauer

Recently, I listened to an interview that Krista Tippett, MPR’s host to “On Being”, did with Jacob Needleman, author of The American Soul: The Inward Work of Democracy. His ideas have particular resonance today as we face so many questions and complications—not to mention confusion and divisive partisanship—with which our country is so riddled right now.

Jacob Needleman passionately presents some of the great yet fallible human beings who forged this country into a democracy, men and women who demanded of themselves high ideals, which they in turn expressed in our Constitution and Bill of Rights as well as the Declaration of Independence. Among the people he highlights are: George Washington, for being a man who “turned away from power”—no easy task in our competitive and power-hungry world; Thomas Jefferson, who knew the invaluable importance of “listening well,” particularly if there were to be agreement among the  signers of foundational documents; Abraham Lincoln, though “humbled by power,” firmly exhorted “malice toward none and charity toward all”; and 19th-century Frederick Douglass, an escaped slave who deeply loved the America he felt compelled to criticize for allowing slavery to exist. Men with values? Virtues? Call them what we will, but we need to reflect on them today, as we struggle to maintain our democracy. Let it not be thought that anyone, least of all Jacob Needleman, would deny Americans the festivals, marches and parades we so love to employ to express our patriotism. But Needleman wants our patriotism to go deeper than all that.

Astutely, I think, he asserts that our age needs not just external action groups but “think groups” that help us ask hard questions such as: What are the duties implied in the rights we proudly acclaim? What is the inward work of democracy? What does the Declaration of Independence imply when it says "All are created equal" and "All have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness"?

Oh God, we pray for our nation and world. We ask that you help us remove the walls that separate us. We ask, in this moment, for new light: illumine our minds so that we may seek truth, harbor no malice and live in charity toward all. Use us, Lord, as part of your plan for the world’s healing. May we no longer be at war within ourselves or with one another. May every nation and every people, every color and religion, find at last the one heartbeat we share. Continue to create and sustain this country, loving God, for us and for our children. Hallelujah at the thought! Praise God that such a thing could come to be, through your presence among us and through your light that shines within us. So may it be, Creator of all! So may it be.

Renée Domeier, OSB

Out of Gas

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When I entered the convent in 1956, driving was still considered a man's job. Roman was our friendly, careful driver whose full-time job, five days a week, was to take sisters to their daily appointments. As years went by, after Roman retired, a sister became the local driver and sisters were allowed to take driver's training. When it came time for our yearly home visit, our parents would come and get us and bring us back. It was only during the time of Vatican II days, 1962–67, that sisters on mission could have a car. Even then, it was meant for business in town and trips to and from the monastery.

From 1964–69, when I was living and working at St. John's Cantius Parish in St. Cloud, our superior, Sister Delrey Kulzer, had the use of her brother Tony's second car once a month to do the necessary business in town. This particular day when Tony brought us the car, he said, "This is a very good car, except the gas gauge does not work but not to worry. You will find a gas tank in the trunk when you need it."

One day when S. Delrey and I were driving around town to places on our to-do list, driving down Third Street, I said, "Delrey, I keep stepping on the accelerator, but the car is coming to a stop."

She said, "Don't worry, there is a tank of gas in the trunk." Feeling confident, we got out, opened the trunk, took the can of gas, brought it up to the front and opened the hood, thinking that soon the problem would be solved. While S. Delrey helped hold up the hood, I had the tank of gas in my right hand, bending over and looking all around for an obvious place to pour it. "Gee, where do I put it?" I asked. I saw a knob that could be turned, but it did not say "Put gas here."

I had my license before entering the convent, but it was either one of my two brothers or dad that would fill the tank. I continued to look up and down, from side to side, but didn't see anywhere which looked like an opening. We closed the hood and looked in the trunk, closely checked the rounded corners, but nothing that looked like a gas opening. S. Delrey said, "Let's look inside the car down by the gas pedal, it would make sense to find it there." We did not see an opening for gas.

I waved to the next car to stop. The kind man asked, "Ladies, how can I help you?"

I answered, "Our car is out of gas and here is a tank of gas, but we do not know where to put it."

I gave him the tank of gas, he walked back to the rear fender on the driver's side, opened the lid and poured gas into it. Problem solved.

Smiling, he handed the tank back to me. As we graciously thanked him, I could tell by the look on his face that he had a good story to share with his friends for the rest of his life.

Margaret Mandernach, OSB

This story was written for Stories Like You've Never Heard Before..., a compilation of stories written by Sister Margaret Mandernach. It has been modified for this blog.

Catching the Ball

While attending my first game at Target Field last August, I witnessed a Twins win. Along with that excitement, I witnessed two young boys catch a ball when it was thrown into the stands. The first boy to catch the baseball occurred early in the game; he was filled with such excitement he could hardly sit still during the next inning. The second boy got into place after each inning hoping his turn would come to catch a ball, and it did.

As the Twins began the ninth inning, he again took his place in the stands along the first base line. Then came the magic moment: the ball was thrown to him and he caught it. The reaction of the fans, who had witnessed his patience and perseverance after each inning, was as beautiful as his catch. It was refreshing to witness the first boy joining in the congratulations on the catch. Truly, it was a field of dreams experience for these two young fans, who supported one another through a shared experience.

So how do we support one another on our shared experience as we journey to God? At Saint Benedict’s Monastery, we journey with one another every day through our life of prayer and work. If you would like more information about our common journey, please contact Sister Lisa Rose at lrose@csbsju.edu.

Lisa Rose, OSB