Morning at the brown brink eastward springs . . .

I took the picture above while walking one morning this past week from Norman Towers where I am staying to the Motherhouse. Seeing the sun just peeking up from the horizon through those trees brought the Gerard Manley Hopkins poem to mind. And it matched my mood.

I am feeling like I am living in the dawn of something wonderful.

Every day brings new understanding, new insights, new possibilities. Now, what to do with them.

Love IS stronger than death . . .

Today would have been our 56th Wedding Anniversary. We made it to 53. But today again fills me with joy to realize how little we knew of life, how little we really knew of each other or ourselves. And yet we made a life - a wonderful life - with our children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, wonderful friends, shared faith. And because we were married to each other, we both became more than we could have become on our own - so I rejoice today that matrimony did what it is supposed to do: it opened us both to graces we never imagined in 1956.

The almond blossoms were blooming that late winter - and that's what we used for decorations - almond boughs, heavy with blossoms and fragrant, picked that very morning. For us, each spring, the almond blossoms brought us back to our beginnings. 

And now I am living other new beginnings . . . in an unseasonably warm Michigan late winter. No blossoms here . . . but a spring of new hope, perhaps.

Day 12 - Ash Wednesday - Books without dust jackets

If you were to go into a library where none of the books were wearing book jackets, and you were to peruse the shelves, you wouldn't have much information to go on - title, author - but the old adage, "You can't tell a book by its cover," would be very true.

So it is for me at the IHM Motherhouse. I go into the dining commons and sit down at a table with other women - pleasant, friendly, welcoming. They are books without dust jackets. They seem not very exceptional, not very distinct, even, from one another. Then conversation starts, and I begin to hear their stories. Then it's a whole other thing. These women of the Sister Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary have had amazing careers. They have had extraordinary experiences.

The other day I got to know Sister Therese (Marie Therese LaBlanc, IHM). I listened to this lovely woman telling of such adventures as I had never heard! I googled her name and came up with this little YouTube in which she is making a political appeal for clean air. Take a look at her face. Would you guess this woman had been a key figure in airlifting hundreds of orphans and adults out of Vietnam during the fall of Saigon. She tells stories of making her way across the city with another IHM sister, avoiding groups of young cadets who were shooting everyone who had broken the curfew. She tells of the pilot who took off with a cargo full of babies even though ordered not to -- lifting off just in time, in the darkness . . . and making it safely to the U.S. with their cargo. Gracious!

Or another who told me of doing pastoral ministry in the remote jungles of Honduras.

A library of stories - hiding behind the facade of gentle faces, white hair, some walkers and canes - the "retired" sisters of IHM, who, as far as I can see, are ALL still working!! And a couple of years ago, we see Sr. Theresa still active, asking for legislation on environmental issues.

Sunday morning - Day 9

This is an old picture - taken in 2008 on my way to California from Forks - someplace just out of Port Angeles on the puddle-jumper on the way to Sea-Tac. But when I saw it on my iPhoto today, it spoke to me about where I am now, in Michigan . . . far from home, but not out of touch with my own place on Washington's Olympic Peninsula.  I am thinking of a song from the '70's which was meaningful to me when I first moved to Forks:

Follow me, where I go, what I do, and who I know

Make it part of you to be a part of me.

Follow me, up and down, all the way and all around.

Take my hand and say you'll follow me."

Click above to hear it.

('m tryin'. 

            I'm tryin'.)     

And beneath that . . . still I hear. . .  I cannot rest from travel. I will drink Life to the lees . . . some work of noble note may yet be done . . . 'tis not too late to seek a newer world . . . 

But that boat already sailed. Didn't it?
                                  It is too late, isn't it? Get real.

Day 6 of my IHM Visit - Finding my place

I thought I would have lots of time to think and pray and write - but I've stayed so busy! I am trying to find my bearings in this unfamiliar place. My room at Norman Towers is comfortable, but there is no Internet there, and I haven't subscribed to TV service. (There is one channel, which never shows anything I am interested in when I am there. I did find someone to watch Downton Abbey with Sunday night, and have an invitation from another sister for the final episode of the season this coming Sunday night. Will Mary and Cousin Matthew get married? Will the burned/drowned/maybe fiance reappear and marry Edith?)

At home, I go to the A Nun's Life live podcast at 4 in the afternoon. It's at 7 PM here! So for the past several days, I've stayed many hours at the Motherhouse where I can always use the wireless connection and keep up with the NL Forums, Facebook, and email, etc.

I get to the Motherhouse sometime between 8:30 and 9 and log on for a while before morning mass or word/communion service. Then there's about an hour and a half free before lunch. I either work on the computer or visit with the sisters. (I'm working VERY hard to learn their names! And names have always been hard for me. Fortunately, I can always fall back on "Sister!")

I have found a number of comfortable places to sit with my laptop - in the great entry hall/lobby, some secluded parlors and dining rooms, up with the sisters on 2nd floor in their Community Room (a great place since I have space to work and also a chance to visit with sisters as they come and go - but not a very strong wireless connection. Right now I am working from Sr. Joyce and Sister Jo's office downstairs in A wing. It's sort of become my home-away-from-home.)

I really enjoy mealtimes because everyone is so kind and hospitable. They invite me to sit at their tables - they ask me questions and I end up telling stories from my life. They make me feel more than welcome! (An interesting counterpoint to those adolescent years when I always wondered which is a safe table to stop at in the cafeteria!)

Then there are activities in the afternoons - or time to do a little computing or read - or more visiting. I've gone out a couple of afternoons with friends for errands, etc. Theoretically, there should be plenty of time for everything. But the time just disappears. Before I know it it's time for Evening Prayer (Divine Office) at 4:30 generally, then it's dinner time! I tend to stay visiting in the dining room for quite a while. By the time the podcast is over, it's 8-8:30 and I'm heading back to Norman Towers! So my day has been 12 hours long and I've stayed busy and happily occupied - but I wonder where the hours have gone. I pick up my mail, think about answering or paying bills or whatever - but usually postpone till later.

It's 1:40 in the afternoon right now. My next scheduled activity is at 3 PM with the sisters. Then I will go out to dinner tonight with Sr. Joyce and a friend at 4:30. Maybe I'll take a little walk back to my place in daylight! Do a little reading or writing - or take a nap! And then come back for the meeting at 3.

I took the picture above last night as I left the Motherhouse for Norman Towers. This is such a beautiful place.

I ask myself always why I am here (and the sisters ask me, too, so my motivations are a continuing question for all of us. I am a mystery person to everyone, including myself).

Yesterday, the homily at mass was about Jesus telling the blind man he'd just healed not to go back to his village. Sometimes, when we are in a period of inner change and transformation, we need a little distance from our familiar surroundings -  our environment and the people who know us well - to consolidate what is going on, to not be held in place by what is already known about oneself.

So -- I'm in an interesting place between who I've been and who I might become. Not real comfortable. Adventures aren't generally comfortable, I suppose. In the next few days, I'm going to try to rearrange my schedule so that I spend some daylight hours at Norman Towers - find better balance.

(Next time I'm going to write about the significance of the phrase, "new and emerging forms of religious life . . . that's what got me into this situation, you know!)

Landing at the Mothership

My balloon touched down briefly in Chicago, but now I'm landed safely at the IHM Motherhouse (aka Mothership) in Monroe, MI. I have been treated with great kindness and as if they have just been waiting for me to get here. I am writing this from the library reading room on Sunday evening. (see picture at right)
     Saturday I was invited to attend Sr. Julie's Mission-group meeting. Seems that all the community members are divided into small groups called Mission groups (I think). And this is how they do their governance: rather like states within a country. The Sister Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary of Monroe, MI (IHMs) aren't divided into separate provinces - this is the core of who they are, although they are in ministry all over the world.
     This is their "home," and they always speak of coming back to the Motherhouse as "coming home." It's huge and beautiful - but it does have a great sense of welcoming and gathering, in spite of its magnificence. The whole building was renovated recently. I'm told it was the largest institutional green-renovation in the world, and they've won all sorts of awards for the work that was done here. And it's a teaching building, so they've built into the building itself a philosophy and a blueprint for how green renovation should be done.
      The order has historically been a teaching order - but their educational focus has always been seen broadly - so no matter what their mission (teaching in schools and colleges, tutoring in the inner city, running the A Nuns Life Ministry , or working in foreign missions, helping the elderly with conservatorship and management issues, or whatever else they do (and I don't yet begin to know what that is), it all fits under the broad definition of education/teaching. I do know that in the mid-60's a decision was made to send one sister out of 10 to university to study theology, so they have several world-class theologians among them.
     So right now my official position here is one of "hanging out with the sisters." Tomorrow I will meet with a volunteer coordinator - and, I think, with the Associate Director. And things continue to unfold.
. . . . . more later. (and more still to come)--

I'm up in the air

I am literally up in the air - somewhere between the west coast and Chicago. And I am metaphorically up in the air, too - wondering why I'm going where I'm going, what will happen while I'm there. Vacillating between anticipation, skepticism as to my motives, and some trepidation . . .

But mostly I am up in the air because anticipation is winning the war. My spirit is buoyant and hopeful. This is a young sort of feeling - and young feels very good. I am happy because I know there are people awaiting my arrival who love me and want me to be there. I am happy because anticipation means adventure.

I think about the song we used to sing in the prayer group: He gives marvelous comrades to me: the faithful who dwell in his land!  (Click on it - it's the song my heart is singing!)


And then because my thoughts are bouncing around in the ether, I think of a line that has lived in my head since I memorized it at the age of six: Surely goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life - and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.  Somewhere over the years the verb tense morphed from future to past . . . because this has been the truth of my life - he has given marvelous comrades to me. His goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life.

So, I think: It's OK to be up in the air - and to trust the current to carry

 you where you are meant to be.

Looking at the big picture . . .

Today I began my exploration by visiting the California Museum in Sacramento with my sister, Pat, where the Women and Spirit: Catholic Sisters in America exhibit is on display. I'd been hearing about this for quite some time, and I was so glad to finally find myself in the same place as the traveling exhibit! It's beautifully presented - and I was excited to recognize so many of the bits and pieces from stories I've been told by friends and family!  This was a great way to build a foundation for my further explorations!

This afternoon I drove up to Arbuckle to visit family - and tomorrow it's down to Modesto to my son David's family for the weekend. The weather is beautiful, and the almonds are starting to bloom!