Airport runs

The Erie International Airport is an easy 13 miles from our place--22-25 minutes on a good day.

We make runs to and from there regularly, usually at the crack of dawn. Tomorrow's four pre-noon departures are at 6:00, 6:12; 6:15 and 11:40 A.M. not likely to give O'Hare any competition! Despite its modest schedule the 60-100 passenger small jets are usually quite full and the total number of people that go through ERI in a year tops a million.

I had to make a run yesterday and was delightfully surprised to see the updates and changes that have been made recently. The first photo is the pre-security waiting area. About 80% of it is shown. The next is a wall of Erie businesses--very contemporary and the third is a look across the waiting area where a nice drop in for a quick drink or quick breakfast restaurant is offered. I was told a coffee bar has also been added on the other side of security. Clean, fresh, welcoming. A very nice appearance overall, I'd say.

P.S. The word "international" is a local joke. I guess there was, at one time, a flight to Canada, but not in my lifetime! The name has stuck--impressive if nothing else!

New URL for blog: ltsgw.blogspot.com

Now we are seven

Here's the back story before I give you the conclusion.

About 7-8 years ago we had a group of Methodist ministers here for a weekend of planning sessions. In fact, we've had them back nearly every year since--what a great group of men and women, all leaders at their respective Methodist congregations here in Western Pennsylvania. Anyway, that very first visit left us with two unforgettable stories. The first was when one of the guys exclaimed after going through our cafeteria line two or three times, "Your salad bar is terrific, even better than Hoss's!" This went over many of our heads, including mine, until we found out what a high compliment it was, since Hoss's Restaurants pride themselves in offering the best salad bar ever!

The second never-to-be-forgotten comment was about peanut butter. One minister aka peanut butter aficionado told us, "Sisters, we've got to get you some different peanut butter. I'm going to send you some when I get home." I'm a peanut butter lover, too, so I knew he was speaking some truth. At that time our peanut butter consisted of a very large tub of no-name, generic stuff. Not overly creamy, but certainly passable as we were all eating it! But our new food service director heard about it and agreed that we could improve, although she'd have to look into what else our distributor could offer.

Flash forward to the present and thanks to this first concern, along with the presence of 3-4 vegetarian new members and the dedication of our food service director to find what she could, and Voila! our peanut butter is now a matter of choice!

Left to right: Peter Pan creamy; Peanut Butter and Co.The BEES Knees (simple, honest ingredients); Smucker's NATURAL peanut butter; Natural JIF almond butter spread and JIF creamy on top of 4 lbs of JIF creamy; Santa Cruz Organic NO STIR dark roasted peanut butter; and Smucker's GOOBER:stabilized peanut butter, strawberry grape and honey jelly.

And, in an effort of full disclosure, I read the ingredients of each one and by far they have much more in common in calories, ingredients and percentages than they have differences. So take your pick, we've got something you'll love. When are those Methodist leaders coming back?!

New blog URL: ltsgw.blogspot.com

Getting picky about books

I'm going through a "picky" stage regarding what I read. I only want to read very, very good writers' works.

To that end I just read my first book by the celebrated, internationally acclaimed Brazilian author, Paulo Coelho. I didn't start with his most popular and award-winning book, The Alchemist, but instead a more humble one, The Devil and Miss Prym. A stranger arrives in a small, out of the way village and entices the villagers to choose between good and evil. Young, lovely Miss Prym is his main adversary. It was a great read. Now I will have a go at The Alchemist.

But first, it's Elizabeth Strout's new one, Olive, Again a followup to her very interesting and well-received Olive Kitteridge,--a curmudgeon of a retired school teacher who speaks her mind way too much, yet who somehow effects the lives of her ordinary acquaintances in a special and life-changing ways.

This is one of my survival techniques for the months of January and February!

Finally--lake effect snow--and more

A male and female cardinal poking around near the feeders
 just as the snow started. We've kept the feeders well-stocked
all day. Apples out for the deer, too.

Eleven inches + in about 18 hours. Beautiful.
Luckily it's a Sunday, with a holiday tomorrow.

And, an indoors sight. One of our sisters has very small feet, can hardly fit
into the smallest women's size shoes. She came home this week with
much-needed new sneakers--AND then they lit up when she walked!
She is thrilled!

Mid-January

Today is mid-January. It is also mid-winter, for those in our city (2.5 months down, 2.5 months to go). A friend told me today that on her daily afternoon walk, around 5:00 p.m., she's noticing the increase in light--as we are nearly a month past the winter solstice. I've noticed it in the mornings, too: our 7:30 a.m. drive to work is definitely lighter. When we were watching the Jeopardy GOAT tournament this past week, they had a category on Canadians. Each clue showed the photo of the Canadian and a short description was read. As soon as the photo popped up I shouted, "Margaret Atwood"! I recognized her instantly because that same photo is on her book Testaments which I just finished. If you read The Handmaid's Tale years ago, or saw the movie recently, you'll love this 15-years-later follow up. Spoiler: Gilead is imploding!

In praise of Ordinary Time

As (blessed) Ordinary Time returns and remembering my Dad whose birthday was this past weekend, here's a short reflection that seems to fit right now:

When I would visit my parents in the early years of my religious life I would tell them of events and stories of my days. My mother would look bewildered and bemused as she always did, claiming to not understand convent life in any aspect. (This was particularly amusing to me as my aunt, her sister-in-law, had entered religious life soon after my parents were married, so she’d had a “nun in the family” forever.) My Dad, too, answered the same way, though not befuddled or confused at all. “It’s just like the army,” was his response. He didn’t mean it in any derogatory or militaristic way–he was referring to going through the day as part of a large group: whether it was with young guys brought together by WWII or with other young women beginning religious life.

Decades have come and gone since those first stories, but even now some of his analogy persists. One of them that is particularly striking to me is the morning wake up call—reveille at 5:45 a.m.! At least that’s the time I usually respond to my alarm; some Sisters start a little earlier and some roll out at 6:20 and still make it for 6:30 a.m. Morning Prayer.

Praying first thing in the morning is not unique to my community nor to Sisters in general. Spiritual people of all traditions and no tradition, value their daily meditation, quiet time and prayer—whether they carve out time for it in the morning or in the evening or in between.

As Benedictines we follow a ritual based on the psalmody. We chant or recite three psalms or canticles, the Benedictus (Zachary’s Canticle), responses, the Prayer of Jesus and a closing blessing from the prioress. This continues morning after morning after morning. There are variations here and there, for feasts or special events, but the basic structure is the same.

I don’t know why we post the page numbers or why we all follow the phrasing meticulously by reading our books. We all know them by heart. We even know the five weekly chant modes from memory. If the electricity goes out some morning I know we’d be just fine. Once the leader started the first line we’d be off—whether it would be reciting or singing a cappella.

Faithfulness to such a daily commitment is strengthened by its purpose. There is so much to pray for, remember, recount, express thankfulness, and even sit with in silence. However one calls to one’s God, that relationship is fostered here. Even the climate of the seasons contributes to our morning invocations. In my hometown we are greeted with the sharp rising sunlight in summer and dark cold mornings in winter.

I read a wonderfully creative poem by a monk of St. John’s Abbey in which he reflected on various members of his community as they entered chapel in the morning. I laughed and laughed at the images and descriptions, probably because I could pair each monk of his with one of our sisters: the prayer leader already in her place, the one with the perky step at 6:00 a.m., one still putting on her sweater as she walks in, one dragging a bit after a late night listening session with a suffering friend, the octogenarian pushing a walker to stay upright, a musician double checking the music chart, one whose shoes squeak (still), the new postulant still wide-eyed and trying to get all the parts down correctly, three visitors looking tired but eager, and the straggler who’s never on time, but never misses.

We are the praying church, at least our little part of it–the praying congregations and individuals that bring praise, gratitude, petition to the Creator each and every day, around the world.

So, why continue to rise to this daily commitment? I admit that there are many, many days when my first conscious thought is, “Oh, maybe I’ll sleep in today.” But, I hardly ever do. This is our proverbial anchor for the next 12 hours, one of, if not the primary, raison d’etre for my life.

It’s why we exist, it’s why I join 50 other women in answering this morning bugle–just as my Dad did years ago.

Third time

This past weekend we held a double funeral and memory service for our Sisters Dorothy and Mary Bernard, both of whom died on December 21, one in the morning and one in the evening. They were truly very touching and special experiences, in as much as the memories and stories and liturgies surrounding the events were uplifting, prayerful and consoling. One of the most asked questions, however, was: Have you ever had two deaths on the same day before? The answer is, yes. Five years ago in January 2015, Sr. Audrey B. and Sr. Claire H. both died on the 26th. Claire had been on a long, long cancer journey but Audrey's death was a sudden, total system shut down, so to speak, the source of which and the suddenness of which was shocking. Other big differences were that they both died in a hospital, St. V's and Hamot, and that they were in their early 70s, very active and involved. Mary B. and Dorothy were 90 and 88 respectively.

This answer is not over yet.

Back in 1971 two blood sisters died in a car accident in California, along with their parents. I believe one was in her late 30s, the other in her 40s. The sisters who were here for this, recalled it this weekend with great sadness in their memories as they told us that they had all four caskets here for viewing, which then continued at their home parish here in Erie.

So, unusual as it was, it was not a first.

Personally, in my experiences I now value the deaths and following funeral and burial rituals of our sisters to be in the category of great privilege. To be part not only of daily life with these women, but then to be a part of the ending of that earthly life and the "beginning" of the next, is truly special, very humbling and always quite miraculous.

1-1-2020

The last four or five days have had a kind of liminal feel to them: It's not been fully 2019, but as of yet not really 2020; Morning Prayer is later these days, and yet the ministry hours continue, although shorter; the sisters are not all here, yet they came drifting in from home visits, throughout the mild Monday and rainy/snowy Tuesday; every Evening Prayer we remember Sisters Mary B. and Dorothy, yet their services are still to come; the reality of "celebrating" their lives and yet mourning their loss. An in between time indeed.

I wrote a haiku for our youngest postulant whose birthday is January 1. Here it is--in the traditional 5-7-5 format.

Nine are ninety plus,

The rest come decades behind.

One: twenty-seven.