What a Celebration: IRENE

One of the highlights of our annual Donor Day celebration is the Mother Benedicta Riepp Award, made to a woman who we’ve known for years, and seen living the Benedictine motto of “Work and Prayer”. What a joy this year to recognize someone who’s like part of the family, Irene Pundsack.


Irene wouldn’t claim to be anything other than ordinary, but we sisters know she isn’t. She and husband, Richard, totaled nearly a century of devoted service as our employees. Irene didn’t just do a fantastic job in the bakery and kitchen. She balanced work with prayer, often coming in early so she could join sisters at Morning Prayer and Mass. She listened to their troubles, gave help as needed, and cared for St. Raphael’s Convent when it closed and sisters transferred to St. Scholastica’s (where Irene later followed).



L to r: Sister Karen Rose, Irene Pundsack, Sister Gen Maiers

If Irene shared the life of the Sisters, she also shared her family life with them. Her 7 children had dozens of “sister-grandmas”. Family life was important, so it was no surprise on Donor Day when Irene arrived surrounded by family. And what a family! Only weeks before Donor Day, Irene broke her hip and had surgery. Despite still being in pain and using a wheelchair, she was determined to go onstage to receive her award. Family made it happen. Her sons carried her up the steps, wheelchair and all. Irene received the honor, made a gracious speech, and then her children surprised us all with a tribute to their mother in song – not a dry eye in the house.

Irene continues to shine her Benedictine light to this day. She’s done amazing work building community through her church and work with projects such as Place of Hope and Hope Park. In April, she walked a 5K marathon in support of Earth Day. What a privilege to see her honored by our Benedictine community. No wonder the applause was deafening!

 

CHERRY TOMATOES


By Anne Higgins

Suddenly it is August again, so hot,

breathless heat.

I sit on the ground

in the garden of Carmel,

picking ripe cherry tomatoes

and eating them.

They are so ripe that the skin is split,

so warm and sweet

from the attentions of the sun,

the juice bursts in my mouth,

an ecstatic taste,

and I feel that I am in the mouth of summer,

sloshing in the saliva of August.

Hummingbirds halo me there,

in the great green silence,

and my own bursting heart

splits me with life.



Who could say anything to surpass Anne Higgins’ luscious poem? Read it again. Carry it around with you. Experience the split skin, the ecstatic taste-- warm and sweet. Are you sitting on the ground and letting the juice burst in your mouth? After all, it is August; (we’re not yet in one of those formidable months spelled with an“r” ). Have you noticed a hummingbird or two as well in the great green silence? And is your own heart bursting? Cherry tomatoes can do that for one.

Rush Upon Us, O Spirit

In a very short time, we will be celebrating the soul-shaking, global-shaking feast of Pentecost. St. Luke says that the Spirit came down upon Mary and the disciples with power to open the gates of life to all nations! Peoples of every language and culture could now become proclaimers of the message, “Jesus is Lord”, in their own tongue and with their own expressions of joy and faith! St. Paul teaches the early Church by using my favorite image of the Body of Christ: “As a body is one though it has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also Christ. For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, slaves or free persons, and we were all given to drink of one Spirit.”


Now, obviously, not all of us are shaken to the depths of our beings, nor is our world so shaken by the coming of the Holy Spirit. For that reason, I have been praying the following Spirit Psalm which may appeal to you as well. It is inspired by the image of the Spirit rushing upon David when he was anointed King (1 Samuel 16: 13) and it can fit any time or clime:

Rush upon us, O Spirit of God!

From this time on, rush upon us

like living water,

like leaping fire,

like fresh breath through an open window.

For this time, rush upon us, O Holy Spirit,

with wisdom and knowledge,

with understanding and counsel,

with wonder and recognition and awe.

Just in time, rush upon us, O Spirit of God,

in life-giving words,

in songs from the voiceless,

in passion for witness.

At this time, rush upon us, O Holy Spirit;

this hopeful time,

this searching time,

this preparing time,

this coming and going time,

this trusting time,

this new time,

this full time.

All the time,

Rush upon us, O Spirit of God!

AMEN! ALLELUIA!

Listening at it’s best

Lately I’ve been thinking more about how tough it is to really listen. Maybe you can relate to this too. What got me started was an article I read in the Feb 13, 2012 issue of the America magazine entitled, “Vatican II at 50” by Richard Gaillardetz. Gaillardetz focused on Conversation starters: Dialog and Deliberation during Vatican II. He remarked that one of the dynamic characteristics of Vatican II dialogs was humble learning.

According to Gaillardetz, Vatican II reminded us that all disciples of Jesus are lifelong learners. And that this is as true for the pope as it is for children preparing for first Communion. And research has shown us that the greatest barrier to listening is, “having your mind so steadfastly made up that there is no room for dialog, no room for 'being a student' ” in the presence of someone who thinks differently than I. Christ was only impatient toward those who were arrogant in their certitude.

I cringe when I think of how often I have my response ready for anyone who disagrees with me on a given topic, even before they have had a chance to tell me why they value certain aspects of their lived-truths on this same topic. I can hardly ever stop my chain-of-thoughts unless I figure out a way to really be quiet long enough to take in what they are trying to tell me.

So far, the only ear-opening behavior I have found to learn from others, is to “Sit still, be quiet, and then ask them to give me an example of what leads them to value their opinion on the topic at hand." Often their example provides ample room for dialog that is both humbling and open.

I’m here to confess that I fail at this oftener than I succeed. That doesn’t keep me from continuing to try to hang out with others who think differently than I, so that my life-long-learning-lens can include an expanded view of unfolding lived-truths. I certainly know the safety I feel when I have been with someone who respectfully provided me the time and space to be- honest-out-loud in their presence.

THE EMPTY EGG

Jeremy was born with a twisted body and a slow mind. At the age of 12 he was still in second grade, seemingly unable to learn. His teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool, and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy just irritated his teacher.

One day she called his parents and asked them to come in for a consultation. As the Forresters entered the empty classroom, Doris said to them, "Jeremy really belongs in a special school. It isn't fair to him to be with younger children who don't have learning problems. Why, there’s a five-year age gap between him and the other students."

Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue while her husband spoke. "Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby. It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we had to take him out of this school. We know he really likes it here."

Doris sat for a long time after they had left, staring at the snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters. After all, their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn't fair to keep him in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach, and Jeremy was a distraction. Furthermore, he would never learn to read and write. Why waste any more time trying?

As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. Here I am complaining when my problems are nothing compared to that poor family, she thought. Lord, please help me to be more patient with Jeremy.

From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares. Then one day, he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him. “I love you, Miss Miller," he exclaimed, loudly enough for the whole class to hear.

The other students snickered, and Doris's face turned red. She stammered, "Wh-why, that's very nice, Jeremy. N-now please take your seat."

Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus and then, to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each of the children a large plastic egg. "Now," she said to them, "I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with something inside that shows new life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Miller," the children responded enthusiastically--all except for Jeremy. He listened intently, his eyes never leaving her face. He did not even make his usual noises. Had he under-stood what she had said about Jesus' death and resurrection? Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the project to them.

That evening, Doris' kitchen sink stopped up. She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog it. After that, she still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse, and prepare a vocabulary test for the next day. She completely forgot about phoning Jeremy's parents.

The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk. After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs.

In the first egg, Doris found a flower. "Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life," she said. "When plants peek through the ground, we know that spring is here."

A small girl in the first row waved her arm. "That's my egg, Miss Miller," she called out.

The next egg contained a plastic butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up. "We all know that a caterpillar changes and grows into a beautiful butterfly. Yes, that's new life, too."

Little Judy smiled proudly and said, "Miss Miller, that one is mine."

Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that moss, too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom. "My daddy helped me," he beamed.

Then Doris opened the fourth egg. She gasped. The egg was empty. Surely it must be Jeremy's she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents. Because she did not want to embarrass him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another. Suddenly, Jeremy spoke up. "Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my egg?"

Flustered, Doris replied, "But Jeremy, your egg is empty." Jeremy looked into her eyes and said softly, "Yes, but Jesus' tomb was empty, too."

Time stopped. When she could speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you know why the tomb was empty?"
"Oh, yes," Jeremy said, "Jesus was killed and put in there. Then His Father raised Him up."

The recess bell rang. While the children excitedly ran out to the school yard, Doris cried. The cold inside her melted completely away. Three months later, Jeremy died. Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket, all of them empty.

The Instant They Surrender

I have been enamored lately with spring: trees bearing green buds, crocuses announcing the beginning of a new season, tulips springing up, and bright yellow daffodils greeting me on my walks. Every year the wonder of spring amazes me. As I prepare for Holy Week at the monastery, I am aware of how nature parallels the Easter season and the Paschal mystery. Life comes from death. Death cannot overpower life and resurrection. Amazingly, our spirit witnesses that same process in conversion and the journey of our lives.


In a reflection titled, “The Courage of the Seed,” Mark Nepo writes:

All the buried seeds
crack open in the dark
the instant they surrender
to a process they can’t see.
                                                  -- The Book of Awakening

Spring discloses a powerful lesson. All around us, everything small and buried surrenders to a process that none of buried parts can see. And this innate surrender allows everything edible and fragrant to break out of the dark and damp ground into a life we call spring.

Quietly, nature offers us countless models of how to give ourselves over to what appears dark and hopeless, but is really an awakening beyond imagining. Moving through the dark into more abundant life is the Easter of our soul. Like a seed “cracking open” in the process of becoming, may Holy Week open us to the mystery of God’s love blossoming into divine beauty.

What You Really Love

Today a friend emailed thisthis Rumi quote to me .

"Let yourself be silently drawn

by the strange pull of what you really love.

It will not lead you astray."

Suddenly hints of Spring came flooding into my imagination… grass greening, lilac branches plumping and more. And I remember so vividly how easily I move out of awareness and into unawareness as I walk through my days. And then I recall that some of my friends regularly choose to take their newly purchased calendar and reserve specific 36 hour-blocks-of-silent-time each month to spend at our monastery hermitage. This they do in pencil, so if absolutely necessary it can be shifted but never totally erased from that specific month. It’s their way of allowing time to let silent awareness have its due time in their word-filled lives.

Brother David Steindl-Rast would add a delightful practice to their hermitage “awareness time” for those who are interested. He suggests that there is a simple way to explore “seeing into the heart of things” and freeing wonder and gratitude to spontaneously arise.

Once, he invited retreatants to “Take a holy card with you tomorrow. Just a 3x5 card with a pin-hole punched in it. Then walk up to a fabric, the wings of a beetle, or even the underside of a plant or weed and look very carefully at it through the hole in your card. When you block out everything around you except a tiny, tiny space you are able to see things your never saw before in your life.”

Maybe that’s another way for me to rediscover the strange pull of what I really love, care about and am immensely grateful for. It may even leave room for the God-given way of seeing things to become visible in my life.

An Ode to Ashes

An Ode to Ashes


Lent has never been my favorite “sacred” season—as a child, an adolescent, a middle-ager or now, as a senior citizen. I have come to terms with it, of course, and I know I should welcome this time as an opportunity to be ever more open to where the Spirit blows, though it is still a struggle. However, as I reflect on the recently-passed Ash Wednesday I do have an upward lilt of the heart.

Each Ash Wednesday other Sisters and I marvel at the outpouring of students who come to chapel in the late afternoon to participate in the Mass and—probably most important to them, the imposition of ashes on their foreheads. We sometimes chuckle as we note “They’re coming out of the woodwork.” People we don’t see in chapel any other time will come to the Ash Wednesday services [reported by many a parish minister, too!]. And that’s a good thing, I believe. Something about this age-old ritual still speaks to them and, at least for this particular time, they are in tune with the Church and with the age-old mystery of God reaching out to us with love and mercy-- and we being willing to acknowledge our sins and need of this love and mercy. I got a warm glow as I received my ashes and watched the “hordes” of others receiving theirs. And somehow I am deeply comforted and at peace.

Catch the fire of enthusiasm

I read a line yesterday that stays with me! Maybe it touched my winter doldrums or a Lenten day that had not yet experienced Easter risings! But I know I need to take this idea beyond mere insight into action:

"Catch on fire with enthusiasm and people will come from afar to watch you burn."

Recently I was trying to help our secristan light a candle that just would not receive the flame held over it. I took the candle out of the holder to bring it to eye level. . . and what we saw was a piece of wire extending beyond that part of the wick that could easily be set aflame! Immediately we by-passed the wire and the wick caught fire. I went back to my pew and watched that candle burn brightly! Of course, I thought of the quote: "Catch the fire of enthusiasm and people will come from afar to watch you burn."

We, too, burn and die a bit, change and move a bit-- day by day-- when fanned by the Spirit. Enthusiastic, joy-filled action attracts; it may challenge; it surely gives off light. Nothing wrong about that, is there? And does the enthusiasm minimize the dying even as it simultaneously lights up the eyes, warms the fire of love in one's words, gives a lilt to one's voice or joy to one's relationships? No, I don't think so. I would come from afar, too, to see this life and light in you!

On Historians and Cosmologists

It takes a long, long time to think, breathe and act out of the truth that my very being and that of every other creature in the universe share the same energy!



It is not as if the earth was somehow assembled and then I was added to it. No! Rather, I/we came out of the universe in that initial eruption of molten rock from which developed, over millions of years, a universe that gradually awakened into all that surrounds us at this moment and which, day by day, continues to diversify into new forms of life.


But today, there are imminent threats to this magnificent world of ours: it is again in danger of mass destruction – not unlike the one that an asteroid destroyed over 65 million years ago when the dinosaur community ceased to exist (except in the minds and hearts of children who are able to relate to this land creature.)

We need to ask ourselves how and why we have fallen under a spell that seeks to darken that which is light, destroy that which gives life, crush our absolutely necessary connection with the land, vegetation, rainforests, air, aquatic as well as land animals and human beings of every color! Our universe wants to continue and is capable of continuing if you and I tell its magnificent history and find our unique place within its story.


Yes, I’ve been listening to cultural historian Thomas Berry and cosmologist Brian Swimme. I am both exhilarated and worried! You may wish to Google their names and become more aware of why climate change is the concern of our world.

An Infusion of Story Tellers

Twenty-eight sisters from Saint Bede Monastery, Eau Claire, WI transferred to Saint Benedict’s Monastery, St. Joseph, MN in August 2011. As a result, the monastery in St. Joseph, MN received an infusion of remarkable story-tellers.

Sister Doris Steinfeldt is among my favorites. She has two qualities that immediately make me smile. She is fiercely independent and has never lost her capacity for sheer delight. I heard her reveal both of these qualities when she recalled how she needed to work 12 hour shifts and be on-call the other hours typically seven days a week. This was because she was working at a small hospital in Durand, WI and was the only one, day and night, who could draw blood or take x-rays for emergencies. Apparently her gift of high energy helped her continue this for years. However, in winter she would get restless, wanting to get exercise with her favorite past-time, figure skating.


One day as she looked out at vacant lot across the road, she decided she would hose it down to see if she could create a rink. Her garden hose wasn’t particularly effective at this. Then she noticed in the local paper that people could write a note to Santa at Christmas time and Santa would respond. She thought, why not ask for a big hose from the fire department and see how Santa might respond.

Of course, on Christmas Eve she was shocked when a fireman appeared at her door holding a giant hose. She thanked him profusely but he interrupted her. He said, “You know the men need to practice hosing each week, why don’t I arrange to have them do their practice in your empty lot.” And that’s how she got to do figure skating right across from the hospital all winter. She is now 85 years old. Only last year did she give away her treasured figure skates.


Her stories and her presence remain so energizing that I’m tempted to say what a colleague recently said about someone she admired, “Because of her, I think I can almost believe in human cloning!”

Food Cravings as our Teacher

It happened to me again this past week. I was scrounging desperately to find an instruction booklet for an appliance I needed to use. I hadn’t used it recently and was envisioning a major mishap if used incorrectly. Then, to my delight, I spied some fascinating food information on an outdated calendar tucked in with the appliance booklets. You know the feeling, when you just come across an amazing hidden treasure on the way to trying to find something completely unrelated. The information treasure I unearthed related to what food cravings tell you about what your body needs.

SUGAR-craving [e.g. candy bars]

Body NEEDS: Chromium & tryptophan rich foods

Rationale: these help prevent insulin-resistance and

pre-diabetes FOODS: broccoli, grapes, whole grains or turkey



SALT-craving [Salt is sodium chloride, an electrolyte; crave chips to get it]

Body NEEDS: Chloride-rich foods

Rationale: these foods replenish the body’s electrolytes without

adding salt to your diet

FOODS: tomatoes, rye, celery or kelp



CARBOHTYDRATE-craving [white bread, white rice, white flour products]

Body NEEDS: Energy

Rationale: the body needs fuel

FOODS : Salad, brussels sprouts, garbanzo beans or whole grains



I’m poised to explore. If you already have tried some of them, let me know what you found out.

Mary and Joseph on the Clearance Rack

A week ago I was out shopping for some Christmas gifts. As I walked down the clearance aisle looking for a deal: Behold! There on a clearance rack stood life-size statues of Mary and Joseph! For some reason, seeing Mary and Joseph during a 21st century Christmas season, seemed amusing and even, ironic.

I have been pondering this sighting like Mary pondering the angel telling her she would “be with child.” I wonder whether many of us put Mary and Joseph on the clearance rack in one way or another, caught up in the hustle and bustle of preparing for Christmas. This Christmas season, I want to take Mary and Joseph off the clearance rack of my heart, and make the mystery and miracle of the Incarnation life-size. This would be a gift that could impact all my relationships and the world.

In verse 16 of the opening chapter of John’ Gospel, we read this about this incarnation: “And from his fullness we all have received grace upon grace.” Grace upon grace is ours to receive “free"! Now, isn’t that a deal!

And where will I find the magi?

Advent Musings

We are well into the first week of Advent, reminded again that we are a people of hope, of trust, of longing—waiting and looking for some signs that God is indeed in charge of this world and the universe. As usual, I am torn between trying to observe Advent in its totality, giving full attention to its stress on waiting for the coming of Christ, and wanting to turn the radio dial to hear the beloved Christmas songs or to do some early decorating in my bedroom and office. It is difficult to hold to the anticipatory part of Advent and not get caught up in a rush to Christmas. I know that I am not singular in this regard.


The familiar readings from Isaiah are a comfort and a wake-up call. He tells of a Savior who will come to transform us and our world. That signifies a need for change on our part, a need for repentance as well as a joyful expectation of the many blessings our Savior will bring. A little Lenten spirit might help, fasting before feasting; the Eastern Orthodox Churches practice that a lot more than we do here in the west. Both East and West, however, as one writer puts it, have “spiritual goose bumps” as we eagerly look to Christmas.

"Change is Good"

Today when I was driving, I noticed a sign that said, “Change is good.” There was no advertising sponsor named, no any attempt at solicitation.   Maybe, it was God. The phrase that change is good struck a chord in me.  If it’s good, why is it so hard to change, or to think change could be good?   Is it because I have become cynical and can’t believe change is good, or that things will actually change.   As I was pondering, I noticed that the old Sam’s Club was being demolished.   Cement walls were toppling down exposing some of the foundational structure.  Men were removing the fence around the property.   WOW! Change right before my eyes.   I quickly made a connection between the sign and the demolition of Sam’s Club.

Change is always happening, whether good or bad.  Change occurs every day--sometimes gradually or swiftly.  Technology allows us to experience the effects of change almost instantly. At the same time, there are some things in my life that I feel never change.  I have never lost my appetite for sweets/dark chocolate, and I keep worrying about things I can’t control.   Yet, there are things in my life that have changed.   My weight has changed many times; my body creaks in more places than before; my stress level has been lowered through breathing techniques, and fears that I believed to be huge didn’t happen.

 The most exciting change in my life is my relationship with God.  As I have aged, my heart and understanding of God have become more expansive.  I’ve grown to trust God’s journey for me and God’s voice speaking to me.   The change that has brought me joy is living into the mystery of God’s love for me even when “I don’t get it,” but especially when “I do get.”  It’s a paradoxical change.   As we enter into Advent, I think of the mystery of change that occurred through the Incarnation of God in Jesus Christ.  We get it and we don’t.   It represents such a remarkably wonderful change in how we think about God.  Happy Advent!  

With Chicken Wings

It was the anniversary of my Dad’s death; he died in 1999 having lived 96 full and beautiful years. For most of the day I smelled incense; scientists say that scent is a powerful memory inducer. I began to stare out my window, thinking of Dad, when I saw...


A flock of birds atop a tree outside my window
they obviously like being together.

They cling to one another visiting, singing, or at times, flitting to a higher branch.
No one bumps into another: they like togetherness, yet they yearn for the freedom of flight.

As a small boy, my Dad had that yearning, too.

With chicken wings tied to his thin shoulders, he climbed the chicken shed and flew down!

He didn’t do well on that flight!

But I love him for the longing in his childhood heart
to soar!

It must be genetic, for I, too, want to fly!
Mine, desires of the heart - but with a heavy body!

Does it make too much of a difference, Lord?

Here I come. . .

A Longing of the Universe

Gerald May has these provocative words to share:


“If a person feels a longing to be at one with the universe,

it is as if the universe feels the same longing to be one with the person.

If I sense a great aching in my heart to be in love with God,

it seems that God must in some mysterious way share that aching with me.”

Relationship. That’s what living is all about: mutual, reverent, open, caring relationships with the universe and the God of the universe. And what is so helpful is to know we are not alone in our longings to love and to be loved. As we touch another with a hand, a smile, a word, an aching desire, there is that other extended hand, returned smile, response or aching desire ready to create a relationship! Whom will you touch today?

REFLECTION ON SAINTS ALL AROUND US

When I was in the lower grades, around ages six-eight, I greatly admired angels, their wings in particular fascinating me (and I could not envision angels without them). Then I began reading the lives of the saints—in the upper grades-- and found so many to admire. However, both angels and the saints seemed completely out of my league--beings too far above me to be truly imitated. Still, it was important to me that they existed and one could at least dream about possibly mixing and mingling with them.

In early adulthood my focus on angels gradually lessened and I only sporadically dove into the lives of the saints (the old Butler version had been my constant companion). But a few favorite saints have remained ideals for me and I never tire of hearing or reading about them. Who could not be attracted to such people as Francis of Assisi, Isaac Jogues, Therese of Lisieux, Rose of Lima and Bernadette of Lourdes. They personify the heights to which we humans can reach, in spite of our frailties. Then I look around me and I know now that there are many saints present, not least my fellow Sisters, both living and dead. I think we are surrounded by saints (and angels, too) daily. Sadly, we just don’t notice the halos and wings.

Psalm 65

This morning we stood in choir and prayed Psalm 65 about the lavishness of God’s gifts upon our earth:



“People everywhere

Stand amazed at what you do;

East and west shout for joy. . . .

With soft’ning rain

You bless the land with growth. . . .

All You touch comes alive:

Untilled lands yield crops,

Hills are dressed in joy.

Flocks clothe the pastures,

Valleys wrap themselves in grain.

They all shout for joy

And break into song.”

 

Now that’s something to sing about, year after year, while the earth lasts and we are here to read the poetry of our land! Can we hear the song of creation? The joy of the hills and valleys wrapped in grain? The blessings poured out on our land? Lord God, give us new eyes and good ears so that we can join the people everywhere who stand amazed at what you do!

Awareness of Human Trafficking in US

Awareness and Fighting of Human Trafficking

I have the good fortune of being a member of the Forum for Executive Women here in St. Cloud, MN. This group of more than 100 professional women meets monthly to network and hear lectures on pertinent topics. Our last lecture was on the prevalence of Human Trafficking. This is hardly a popular topic; rather one that we would like to deny exists in this country, even in this state and probably, in this city.

The reality is that it exists in this country and in this state. It is often operated out of hotels. There are about 1.5 million girls and boys who are in sex exploitation; the average age is between 12 and 14 years of age. Human trafficking is big business -- $32 billion dollar business worldwide with the United States playing a significant role in that business. It is difficult to get an accurate amount of profit but it is clearly big business and includes industrial slavery as well as sex exploitation. The sex exploitation is not about sex; it is about money.

Persons who are most vulnerable for human trafficking are children who come from unstable homes, those who have a poor self-concept, the homeless and runaway children. Adults are also vulnerable – the unemployed, those who do not have good language skills, the unskilled needing work. These adults end up working in “sweat shops” earning very little for wages and yet needing to pay for their room and board, signing unreasonable contracts with the employer, etc.

Why am I writing this blog? First of all, to create an awareness of human trafficking, to encourage all to do what we can to assist young children to be self-asserting, to learn life skills and to develop strong personalities.

You may want to check out these websites: www.childrenofthenight.org www.sharedhope.org

www.trafficinghope.org

There are also a number of books on human trafficking:

The Slave Next Door: Human Trafficking and Slavery in America Today by Kevin Bates; Caged by Molly Venzke (situated in New Orleans); A Crime So Monstrous: Face-to-Face with Modern-Day Slavery by E. Benjamin Skinner as well as other informative books.



Be informed, be alert, be part of the solution!



Miriam Ardolf, OSB