At the Well

 "Bloom where you are planted," the poster reads. But the poster does not tell the whole story. 'Plant yourself where you know you can bloom' may well be the poster we all need to see. Or better yet, 'Work the arid soil however long it takes until something that fulfills the rest of you finally makes the desert in you bloom." *

As I was photographing this lovely blossom, a man dressed for construction work, paused before walking into the house. He said, "Everyone is stopping to photograph that flower." While that is probably a bit of an exaggeration, I do wonder what others are doing with their photographs. As more front gardens give way to hardscaping and succulents, maybe we are all becoming like flamingos migrating to what few floral springs are left.  However, San Leandro loves her dahlias.  Such love can outlive a drought. That is probably worth keeping in mind.  

 *Between the Dark and the Daylight 

Sister Joan Chittister     

    

  

  first photograph of September! 

Pentecost

 "But only here in this time, between the bursting open of the tomb and, fifty days later, the overflowing of the Holy Spirit, does the full awareness of what it is to live in Christ, with Christ, and through Christ finally dawn." 

Sister Joan Chittister, The Liturgical Year  

   

May you know the Spirit that is within you and holds you. Spirit is a trustworthy ally, a loving parent, and is your essence.  You are a holy spirit.    

   

image: Oakland, May 2021

The Journey of this Time

"Then the reign of God for which we strive with every breath will come in all its fullness."  

Sister Joan Chittister, OSB 

The Liturgical Year

   

photograph:  San Leandro, December 2019  

This is one of the rare uncropped images I have on my camera that also makes phone calls. It so speaks of Advent to me.  Today, we prepare to move out of our house for a few days.  I am slowly dismantling the altar I have on the mantle.  As I wrap each item and place in a box, I do so with gratitude.  While at times I get cranky or confused because the house is not calm, the overarching story of this time is the reminder of the importance of a table, a kitchen (we cannot access ours now), the cooking and sharing of a meal, of an altar that beckons me to pause in the chaos for just a moment and remember that we are of God.  However untangible that may seem,  we learn such knowing is the only tangible "thing" we have. God cannot be grasped, but can be lived.  Only there can we find peace.  The rest is journey.    

   

   

Blessings this Advent, and Always

"Life is not meant to be escaped, we learn, as the liturgical year moves from season to season, from feast to feast. It is meant to be penetrated, to be plumbed to its depths, to be tasted and savored and bring us to realize that the God who created us is with us yet." 

Sister Joan Chittister, The Liturgical Year   
   
   

  

Leavening

I just read a short post on Sister Joan Chittister's "Monasteries of the Heart" page about a 95 year old nun who was the bread baker for a monastery for about 50 years.  She has lost her sight, but she says she is content to sit and pray for the cooks of the monastery, and has no interest to return to the kitchen, even for a visit.  She accepts this new time of her life.  I think I shall bake some bread today with her in mind.   

Earlier this week I met with a small group for what is now being called a "Bible Chat".  I smile at the homey name, and while chat is not a word I use very much, I agree that "Bible Study" can sound imposing.  I think what I am coming to prefer is "Bible Listen," because that is what we are doing.  We listen for what part of the text has meaning for us.  We listen to one another's reflections, and we absorb some of what others have expressed.    

One of the residents is losing her sight.  I do not think she is at the content stage yet, but I believe her trust in the One she calls Lord will lead her there.  This week I looked around the table at those gathered, and marveled at their steadfastness.  Every one of them is dealing with a serious illness or impediment.  One man's hearing is so impaired, I am certain he misses most of what is said, but he likes to pray with us. I believe he feels the prayers more than hears them, and that is pretty profound.  One woman says she really can't believe in God, but she is struggling with depression, and she says the conversations are helping her make the transition to living in community. The group is supportive and welcoming of all.  We are being kneaded together, and together we rise, perhaps a little wobbly, but definitely stronger than before.  I am grateful to be among them.   

   

The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.    

Matthew 13:3    

   

Hospitality is openness to the unknown, and trust of what frightens us. 

Sister Joan Chittister, OSB     

   

Learning Places

"Some old men came to see Abbba Poemen, and said to him, "Tell us, when we see brothers dozing during the sacred office, should we pinch them so they will stay awake?" The old man said to them, "Actually, if I saw a brother sleeping, I would put his head on my knees and let him rest."   

 

In God's Holy Light Sister Joan Chittister, OSB     

   

It is not uncommon to see this in memory care homes.  People sit together and nap; yes, even in the midst of a worship service.  While the dozing ones may not put their heads in their neighbors' knees, shoulders seem to work quite well as a resting place.  

  

I am part of a couple of online women clergy groups. While I seldom take part in the conversations, one recent question caught my attention.  The minister was inquiring how to become a better preacher without taking a class.  There were many suggestions for books to read, podcasts, etc.  However, my encouragement was to regularly lead worship in a few  skilled nursing and/or memory care communities.  You will strengthen your voice.  You will learn to try to mold your homily to those present in the room. You will learn to keep things short, succinct, and lively.  And, in the case when your brothers and sisters are napping on one another's shoulders, you will learn that Jesus is there, quite awake, and listening to every word you say. 

        

  

Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving week is one of my favorite weeks of the year.  I have beautiful memories of Thanksgiving when I was a child, and I love to be in the kitchen simply cooking and remembering the laughter and the good food brought forth by my mother and her best friend.  Some years Tyler and I can spend Thanksgiving with friends who live several states away. In those years, my friend and I cook and laugh together.  That is a time I truly treasure.    

  

May you spend Thanksgiving in a way that allows you to pray and give thanks for the blessings of this life.  In The Rule of Benedict, Joan Chittister writes, "There is nothing more important in our own list of important things to do in life than to stop at regular times, in regular ways to remember what life is really about, where it came from, why we have it, what we are to do with it, and for whom we are to live it."  

   

Blessings on it all. May we all have a slow Thanksgiving, one that we can deeply savor and enjoy.   

  

Love, 

Sue Ann     

  

Ora et Labora

Earlier this week I visited an older skilled nursing community.  The noise level is high here, and I always wonder how anyone can heal in the midst of such noise. The mental and physical health of the patients and residents varies greatly. Some are there for the rest of their lives and are quite frail; others are in rehab, and while their physical health has been impacted greatly, their stay is generally short-term.  Sometimes when I step into the activity room, I feel I am being tossed into a giant mixing bowl. Yet, the staff is remarkably stable, and we are always greeted as returning family. We find our way through the tables and the wheel chairs, and make some space for God.   

As I walked down the hall this week, I passed by the cramped administration and admitting offices, the kitchen, and the rehab area.  I have walked down that hall for over nine years, saying hello as I dodge mops, brooms, carts, and pails. Yet, this week it struck me that people were praying. They might not be aware of it, but as they perused emails, checked records, mopped the floor, or encouraged a wobbly elder to take just a few steps more, that is what they were doing. My paced slowed, and I let the silence in - the Silence that that is always there but seldom heard, and I joined my prayers to theirs, just as I am this morning.  

  

All work can be prayer, but in the crush of our busyness and distractions, we forget that Christ is at the heart of our work when we allow our work to connect us to others. St. Benedict knew this. Mother Teresa knew this (even the orphaned children she cared for would be assigned a regular task to do for the community). May we know it as well. Human beings cannot flourish until we recognize that we do not work, nor do we live, just for ourselves.      

Benedictine life is immersed in the sanctity of the real and work is a fundamental part of it. The function of the spiritual life is not to escape into the next world; it is to live well in this one. The monastic engages in creative work as a way to be responsible for the upbuilding of the community...Work and prayer are opposite sides of the great coin of life that is both holy and useful, immersed in God and dedicated to the transcendent in the human.  It is labor's transfiguration of the commonplace, the transformation of the ordinary that makes co-creators of us all.

The Rule of Benedict, Joan Chittister, O.S.B., 
page 132    

  

 ora et labora  pray and work