I have been thinking a lot about the dark as the northern hemisphere creeps toward the longest night of the year. As an early riser, I notice these changes as I tiptoe downstairs to the kitchen to savor a cup of coffee in the stillness. As the mother of an early riser, I feel like this topic comes up...frequently. And with much less enthusiasm. How can we seize the day when it feels like night, after all?! We've Been Waiting in Darkness All Along Do you remember much of your childhood included waiting? Specifically waiting in the dark? Waiting to fall asleep when you weren’t quite ready for bed and others could stay up later. Waiting for the porch lights outside to flicker on, which signaled trick-or-treating could begin. Waiting to be bigger. Waiting for a younger sibling to be born. Waiting in the dark in a lingering dawn on the morning of your birthday. Waiting through the dark of a scary thunderstorm. Waiting for the fireworks to begin on the 4th of July. Waiting for the other girls at the sleepover to wake up in the morning. That’s a lot of waiting. So much of what we know about waiting, we remember and learned from our childhood. The waiting game is not specific to kids, however. Just ask anyone who is waiting for an organ donor, waiting to meet "the one," waiting for a positive pregnancy test, waiting for the key in the door that signals a loved one making it home safely. We know this waiting game—and in general, we don’t like it. Never mind that sometimes the wait yields good news. We are undone by the grueling process of un-knowing and wish to avoid it at all costs in the future so as to never run the risk of unsettling news if we can help it, thank-you-very-much. We are in a hurry to get to where we’re going without the in-between. The Beauty of the In-Between However, the in-between, the "liminal space," is exactly where we are privileged to find ourselves during Advent. Liminal space is another expression for standing on the threshold. We honor the experience of those who are engaged: not yet married, and no longer single. We recognize the journey of pregnancy: not yet holding an infant, still bearing new life. Though these places of threshold may try our patience, they serve to deepen our experience of where we are now by honoring where we’ve been and where we are going, aware that our current circumstances are distinct from both of those experiences. Waiting in the In-Between of Advent This is the perfect posture with which to receive the news of Emmanuel this Advent: as a phase wholly different from the next. Before the birth of Jesus, the news of the Incarnation was as unsettling for Mary, or later, King Herod, as it is for us today. We can dress it up with calendars and cookies, lights and evergreen boughs. The gnawing reality is that we do not enter this season the same person we entered it last year. We have changed and our experience of this season will change us, too. We are entering into mystery and mystery cannot be rushed. [bctt tweet="We are entering into mystery and mystery cannot be rushed. #BISblog //" via="no"] Growth in Darkness As counter-intuitive as it is, we plant bulbs in the dark soil as the life around them goes to sleep. It is the work of the darkness alongside the changing light that transforms those papery seeds into the hardiest of spring blooms. Rather than just showing up one day, the Son of God gestated for nine months in the womb of His mother. Jesus’ Resurrection, too, was preceded by several days in a dark tomb before the Resurrection. Already and not yet. It’s no surprise that, in the golden age of instant gratification, waiting for an entire season poses a real challenge to those of us who are ready to jump in and celebrate the good stuff when it comes to preparing to celebrate the birth of the Christ child. Tack on the encouragement to wait in "joyful anticipation" and it feels nearly punitive. With all of the what-ifs and unpleasant waiting games we are trudging through, necessarily but half-heartedly, the season of Advent may feel like a lot to rally for. After all, we know what’s coming, right? But maybe there is some new shaft of illumination for you and I in this season that we can only see when looking with eyes that have adjusted to the dark, adjusted to the wait. What growth, what peace, what mystery might we encounter if we have the courage to wait it out in the dark? Not out of allegiance to what was last year, or anticipation of what is coming soon? The in-between changes us. [bctt tweet="Waiting in Darkness #BISblog //" via="no"]

Happy Feast of All Saints! This feast begins the month of November and orders our hearts and prayers toward a posture of giving gratitude. All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day differ a bit from our traditional Thanksgiving mindset, in that we are giving thanks for, and asking intercession from those holy witnesses that have gone before us. Very often I think the close succession of holy days that fall near this turning of the calendar can jumble the focus of the particular feasts and our participation in them. It is awe-inspiring (and a little out of the ordinary) to link our individual lives with the likes of the entire Mystical Body of Christ. But that is what this feast and its next-day-twin, All Souls', are all about. Celebrating the Saints Before the days of the Saint-name-generators, choosing a Saint—or letting a Saint choose you—for the year was a practice. It was new to me. I assume this was a roommate’s New Year’s tradition, or maybe my friends were onto something cutting edge? Either way, on January 1st, out came the bag of Saint cards that my friend had stashed somewhere in her desk drawer. We passed around the tiny icons like baseball cards, singling out that patron or patroness that might offer particular guidance to our young adult lives in the New Year. When it came time for me to choose, I pulled out an icon for All Saints. My friend suggested I draw again because I was only supposed to get one, and it was a little much to expect all of the Saints to walk with me that year. I assured her that given the opportunity for all the Saints in Heaven to accompany me; I was not going to pass it up on a technicality! This is basically the feast of All Saints in a nutshell. All the Saints! After all, I had grown up attending All Saints parish. I had always appreciated that no one had chosen to pare down our heavenly intercessors to just one. With so many wonderful options, why narrow it down? We celebrated the Communion of Saints by way of our annual parish festival. I imagine I went to Mass, but perhaps my limited understanding of the Liturgy blended with all other liturgies. It wasn’t until I became rooted in a town with a Benedictine Abbey in which to celebrate the feasts of All Saints' and All Souls' Days that my eyes were opened to the magnanimity of these days, the particular distinctions between these celebrations, and what they mean. A Profound Liturgy Candles flickering and schola chanting, the Abbey was illuminated by dozens of relics throughout the church, available for veneration by the gathered community. Something about this celebration felt so mooring to me, connecting the past with the present. The next day, the atmosphere was similar, but fresh in its own way as the names and images of deceased loved ones were spoken and shared—my grandmother’s included. The loves and losses that had melded and shaped the people gathered that year collected and offered back to God not in the freshness of grief, but in the gratitude of bearing witness. All Saints' Day The Feast of All Saints is celebrated on November 1st each year, or All Hallows' Eve if you attend the Vigil Mass. It is a day to venerate all of the holy women and men who have already been canonized and the entire Church Triumphant. It is typical that during a celebration of All Saints' that a church would include any relics in its possession in the celebration of this Liturgy. At a vigil celebration, this very often looks like a votive candle illuminating the relic for the benefit of the gathered community that they might pray in a more intimate way for the intercession of a Saint that is significant to that faith community. ­ The Mass is always a sensory experiences, but in a particular way, the vigil celebration of All Saints' Day is a feast for the eyes. All Souls' Day We follow one celebration with the Feast of All Souls, at which time we celebrate everyone and anyone of the faithful who have died that year and the entire Church Suffering. We pray on their behalf for eternal rest. Often parishes will provide a book of the dead in which the names of those who have died during the year will be listed and prayed over. This is a particularly moving time of remembrance of those we love and have lost. It stirs a deep hope both in the act of remembering their lives and interceding for them. Our parish has a tradition of celebrating Dia de los Muertos after Mass on both holy days. Each year, families create memorials of their loved ones with pictures, foods, and trinkets that help to mark the significance of that person’s life. Of course, their loss is mourned. But it is joy that I notice as people commemorate the lives of those they have lost. For a concept that is difficult for adults to comprehend, and even more so to explain to children, I still find the movie Coco to be one of the best and most beautiful attempts to capture the practice of honoring the feast of All Souls and the vastness of the cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1). The theology of this particular day is deeply moving and yet it smacks of ordinariness. On some level, this is how we keep the memory of our families alive, in the hope of reunion in Heaven. Honoring the lives of those we love, however long or short, is our heritage. How do you celebrate the feasts of All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day? Share ideas with us in the comments below! [bctt tweet="The Difference Between All Saints' and All Souls' Days #BISblog //" via="no"]

Metaphors are a powerful tool for teaching, and there are few metaphors richer than that of bringing something new to birth. Two Kinds of Birth I always find it interesting when men use childbirth metaphors to illustrate a point. Although one of my favorite authors is such a man and I’ll allow it because I think he’s onto something. He describes what he has observed are the two experiences of birthing that come with bringing a child into the world. The first, of course, happens after much love, prayer, and nurturing of an anticipated child until the day of their arrival—by plane, social worker, birth mom, delivery, or c-section. There is raw emotion, relief, excitement, anticipation, fear, pain, and joy. This leaves the new mother feeling elated, exhilarated, exhausted, and in need of her own nurturing. Beginning already at this time, we instinctively begin the slow process of teaching this new life the basics: how to eat, drink, use a potty, and so on. The second birth he describes is more theoretical, but no less real. It is the significantly longer process of pushing a child into longer and longer durations of independence, until eventually the child understands the basics for themselves and can sufficiently move about in the world, without assistance. Between the two, he describes the second as the more painful. Letting Go is Harder I remember thinking about this passage when a friend of mine was worried about her son who enlisted in the Navy. I think of this description when I think of mothers whose children have won gold medals in the Special Olympics. I think of women whose children are physically healthy, and those whose children are facing life-threatening illness. I think of those with a child in prison, or hired for their first job. It is a complicated dance of independence on the part of one and letting go of the other. Each of these snap-shots offers a glimpse of an experience where the illusion of control has been released with no guarantee of outcome one way or another. It is a surrendering of our own best-laid plans and trusting the wobbly, unpracticed approach of those we love. Insert your own struggle. Most of us will fight tooth and nail to avoid this kind of vulnerability if we can help it whether our own, or that of another. Time for Harvest When I imagined what the topic of harvesting would surface for me, I naively pictured pumpkins, colorful foliage, harvest wheat, and crisp apples. These illustrate the practice that instructs us to unclench our fists and generously offer back what we have been given. In general, I try to give a nod to the season outside of my window to inform the way I enter a season, spiritually. What I hadn’t anticipated was the deep ache I would be experiencing as I sent my littles both to school for the first time and came home to my empty house. It’s been a fresh glimpse at how independent they have grown and how ready they are to be in this new arena. It’s enough to make me swell with pride and crumble over one of many milestones that mark their move toward independence and the role I play in letting go, so that I might graciously step out of the way to allow them to shine as only they can. Not Alone and Not Mine Alone It has also amplified my own heart’s desire—expectation, if I’m honest—for the details I had filled in for myself. This empty house is a reminder that my own vision for my life is not mine alone. In many ways this new era has ushered in a season with its own rhythm. It has felt something like dormancy, which, without my knowing it, has quietly paved the way for other callings to take root. We know this in our bones. The hardest work is often done in the dark. Unseen and uncomfortable for a time. ...new life starts in the dark. Whether it is a seed in the ground, a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb, it starts in the dark. –Barbara Brown Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark   The light begins to wane this season. Would that we have the courage and grace to unclench the fists we have tightened on the things we desire and to enter into the quiet place where we hear our most intimate invitations. What might it look like for me to release my grip, even a little, on something near to my heart? What might it look like to do that with joy? [bctt tweet="Harvest Time and Letting Go #BISblog //" via="no"]

In the way that only the Holy Spirit can work, St. Vincent de Paul has been tailing me for a long time. In eighth grade, long before I had ever given thought to (or heard of) the Vincentian charism, I chose St. Elizabeth Ann Seton as my Confirmation Saint. This was based solely on the facts that she was both mother and Sister and was reputed to be an expert horsewoman (Mother Seton Founded the Sisters of Charity, a Vincentian order). My first real job was as a case manager in the Seton Women’s Center at a Catholic Hospital. I married a man whom I met volunteering with the Vincentians, and was later hired to help other reflect on their own service experiences with those on the margins in the spirit of Vincent de Paul. Long before I made sense of these “coincidences,” God was already at work on my heart by the example of these fine folks. It’s clear I had, and still have a lot to learn in this way. St. Vincent de Paul: An Unlikely Saint I’ve said before that I have a soft spot in my heart for unlikely Saints—those who don’t fit neatly into our boxes of holiness: St. Oscar Romero, St. Bridget of Sweden, St. Elizabeth of Hungary. I’ll now add St. Vincent de Paul to the list, and here’s why. St. Vincent de Paul was born to a large and impoverished family in France in 1581. Knowing well that money was tight and his future may not hold much stability, he enrolled in seminary for a steady income to by which to support his family, and to gain some prestige. One story told of him is that his father came to visit him one day during seminary, and St. Vincent was so embarrassed by his father’s shabbiness that he claimed he did not know the man and refused to receive him as his guest. If there is fodder for a less likely saint, I don’t know it. Encounters with the Poor But the Lord works so often and so beautifully with our hard-heartedness and circumstances. Vincent asked the local Daughters of Charity to introduce him to the poor with whom they worked. St. Vincent began to visit them to bring food and comfort in whatever ways he could. Overwhelmed by the scope of needs, he realized that his connections in the community and in the parish could assist him with financing and helping him to visit the poor he’d begun to visit. Recognizing the importance of this partnership, he began to use the prestige he had achieved to connect the wealthy women in his parish to make visits to these impoverished families as well (thus establishing the Ladies of Charity). His mission was born out of an encounter with the Christ, in the image of the most vulnerable he served. [bctt tweet="St. Vincent de Paul's mission was born out of an encounter with the Christ, in the image of the most vulnerable he served. #BISblog //" via="no"] You will find that charity is a heavy burden to carry, heavier than the bowl of soup and the full basket ... It is not enough to give us soup and bread ... You are the servant of the poor ... They are your masters, terribly sensitive and exacting you will see. It is only for your love alone that the poor will forgive you the bread you give them. -St. Vincent de Paul   Connecting Communities St. Vincent had a knack for remaining present to two different communities and introducing them to one another: the elite and the impoverished. By nurturing both relationships, he was able to be formed by those he served and provide invitation to those with means to take on a posture of service, too. In doing so, his vocation was born. It was at this time that St. Vincent met his would-be counterpart and spiritual directee, Louise de Marillac. Louise had been recently widowed and felt called to religious life, but was interested in Vincent’s particular charism of going to the people of France as opposed to joining a cloistered convent where she felt she would be separated from those on the margins. At the time, no such order existed for women. Due to the complete lack of organization for charitable works in France at the time, Louise’s desire for service and innovative approach for meeting these needs came at a perfect time. She began to instruct other women interested in meeting the needs of the day, to "Love the poor and honor them as you would honor Christ Himself." In this way, hospitals and orphanages were established to streamline the service that was so direly needed. Out of this work, came the Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul. A Legacy of Service In 1833, Frederic Ozanam, a university student in a debating club was challenged to identify the place of the Church and its involvement in meeting the needs of Paris of the time. In light of this challenge, Frederick founded the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. It’s first work really began serving the sick poor during Paris’ cholera outbreak. The St. Vincent de Paul society was and continues to be a lay organization of Catholics committed to meeting the needs of the poor, both in their homes and in the community. Better for the Kingdom Together I love the witness of these three distinct individuals and the ways that their vision for service to the poor and their belief that serving the marginalized in this way made tangible their deep love of Christ incarnate. It speaks deeply to the creativity of the people of God as well as the creative and collaborative nature of our very callings. The legacy of Saints Vincent and Louise and Blessed Frederic Ozanam invite collaboration and remind me that I do not have to act alone as I’m tempted to believe from time to time. We are, in fact, better together. [bctt tweet="Better Together: On the Feast of St. Vincent de Paul #BISblog //" via="no"]

Dear First-Time College Student (words I wish I had heard at the dawn of my college experience), I am so excited to hear that you are headed to college soon. I’m sure you’ve already chosen some classes and you may have even heard from your new roommate(s). Maybe you’ve selected a new planner, some extra-long sheets for your dorm room, and a stack of framed photos of the people whose faces you know you’re going to need to see as you transition to this new space. This might be the first time that you’ve lived so far from home, paid your own bills, or cooked for yourself. The anticipation is palpable. As you know, there are boundless opportunities and experiences waiting for you once you pick up that freshman orientation swag bag. In it, you’ll probably find important magnets with phone numbers to places like student activities, the on-campus security line, the clinic, the counseling office, the bursar’s office, etc. You’ll receive a map of local public transit stations, and locations of places like the library, gym, stadium, bookstore, Newman Center, alongside some local parks and attractions. Things Will Change Now Once classes begin, there is a good chance that you will read a book that rocks your world—and your perceptions of it. You might get involved with registering students to vote. Maybe you'll attend a protest. You might meet your future spouse. You might turn 21 sooner/later than your peers and have to make some important choices. Perhaps you’ll sign up to study abroad. Maybe your world will look smaller when you choose to participate in a service trip in a place of great need. Maybe you’ll juggle classes and a job. It is going to take some getting used to. This whole college experience has evolved from what might have once been a surface-level academic endeavor to one that now (wisely) includes a four-year formation of person. This may include everything from building community to taking financial and health literacy classes. It might include living with someone you may not have chosen and working on your interpersonal communication skills to work through conflict. This is a tremendously growing experience. Statistically-speaking, attending college is an opportunity very few people enjoy world-wide. What you do with your time matters, both to you and to the one(s) making it possible for you: God, your family, your employer, the donors of your scholarships, etc.     What I Hope You Do as a First-Time College Student Hindsight and the Holy Spirit have given me these three tenants by which to evaluate the choices that are inevitably coming for you in these next four years (and beyond): 1. Take care of you—body and soul. This probably sounds self-explanatory, but it can be easier said than done. When school begins and the homework is assigned, invitations from friends or to clubs start rolling in, it is vital to remember a few important and grounding parameters to work within. Get rest. Professors make more sense when you do. This is also key to staying healthy, especially during finals! Eat well. Don’t write off the cafeteria when you need a good meal and don’t have time to cook. Or cook up something yummy for yourself or let someone else introduce you to a dish you’ve never tried before. Say your prayers. Sit with the Word when you get up, before bed, or all throughout the day. Exercise. Get to know your new space on foot. Make friends. So much of your experience on campus is defined by those you surround yourself with. Choose wisely and evaluate often. Trust your gut. If that nagging voice is telling you something about a situation isn’t right...listen! Call your family. Keep them in the loop. Commit to a faith community. Find a Newman Center or local parish where you can grow. Be invested there so they’ll know you enough to miss you when you’re not there and follow up. (This is also a great way to score a homemade meal or off-campus hospitality!) 2. Take advantage of the resources at your fingertips. I probably didn’t appreciate this fully until I lived in a college town and used their library and attended cultural events that I then had to pay for. I now marvel at the opportunities available to all students when they watch for e-mails, flyers, or even the stall-street-journals. So often I have attended presentations by famous people or seen orchestras or plays all because I was near the campus where the performance was being held. I have hoped to one day live in a town near a campus for this very reason. Read your e-mails. Attend speakers/performances offered on campus, whether or not you’ve heard of them. Access bright and passionate scholars to mentor you as you grow. Utilize the top-notch library resources/academic support. If you’ve ever considered counseling services, they are easily accessible on campus as you deal with the newness or complexities of a more adult lifestyle. 3. Get involved and remember why you’re there. Ultimately, you are headed to college to become more educated in a particular field of study. This can begin to feel like a real drag when compared to ultimate Frisbee practice, volunteering at the humane society, or pledging for a sorority. This does not necessarily mean that you’re on the wrong track, it’s just simply more fun to play than it is to work. So there is a level of self-discipline required when choosing how to spend your days. Becoming involved is part of the whole experience that makes you a well-rounded dentist/biologist/meteorologist/theologian/non-profit manager/urban planner. Balance your extra-curricular involvement with your actual classes and responsibilities. I found out early that you cannot major in extra-curriculars! Service trips can be a great way to get to know new folks over breaks. It can even give you real-world experience in something you're interested in. Look up. Look people in the eye and reserve the use of your phone only for particular times of the day. Operate with integrity. Show up and do what you say you’re going to do. Your future employer will actually want to hear about the ways you were involved outside of the classroom,and how that shaped you into their ideal candidate. Think about how these two complement each other and be able to talk about it. Shine This next chapter of your life is going to shape you and mold you in beautiful ways. You have gifts to bring that only you can offer. Bring your whole self and take care of that self; doing so models for others what that looks like and gives them permission to do the same. You are made in the image and likeness of God. Let your light shine! The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. -John 1:5 Are you a first-time college student this year? What are you most excited for? Nervous about? Let us know in the comments below! LITURGICAL PLANNERS Our Liturgical Planners are based on the Litany of Humility. Enter into prayer every day alongside this beautiful Litany. Order your days in His peace. GET YOUR PLANNER

Recently on a hot afternoon at the park, my kids and I headed for the shade of a picnic pavilion at a nearby lake. We were marveling at the dragonflies and ducks and red-winged black birds over peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when a group of teenagers approached, each carrying a net. Their language was rough. I could see my oldest eyeing them suspiciously. Truthfully, I was eyeing them suspiciously. How often are a group of tweens traipsing innocently along the shores of a lake on an idle Wednesday? (Not enough, is the obvious answer.) As we continued eating, my curiosity got the best of me. “What are you catching?” I asked. “Tadpoles,” they said. I asked if we could take a look at their catch and they agreed. A deep, Tupperware bin filled with large, emerging frogs sat on the shore. Needless to say, my kids were enraptured. We began trailing the teens like little ducklings. They pointed out the bullfrogs under the dock and how they were scooping up the maturing frogs. We half-heartedly picked at our lunches and continued to watch them. To my heart’s delight, I watched them pull trash out of the pond, release the tadpoles, and gift my children with their net. As quickly as they’d arrived, they left; blowing all of my preconceived ideas about them out of the water. Preconceived Notions about the Saints I don’t know about you, but I tend to approach Saints in the same way. I have often let my preconceived ideas about the Saints get ahead of me. Beautiful as they are, it can be hard to measure up to the likes of some of these holy folks. There are two categories that I find myself sorting them into: Things they are known for: Living a life that radiated holiness Starting a religious order Having some kind of miraculous prayer life Practicing austerity and self-denial Things they probably aren’t known for: Having a complete mid-life change of direction Having a pleasant marriage Rocking the boat Admittedly, my list of what they probably didn’t do is getting shorter as I learn about more and more folks who have given a holy witness with their lives. Saint Bridget of Sweden is one such Saint. St. Bridget of Sweden Surpassed My Assumptions Despite my efforts to learn about the whole person who has been declared a Saint, I fall into old habits of holding them up on this pedestal of unattainable perfection. Clearly this is not a fair interpretation of any one person. We are each the sum of our entire lives, not only our best (or worst) moments. It’s also not especially helpful for me. Rather than allowing myself to be inspired by the lives of the Saints, I’ll admit that it can turn a bit sarcastic. Where is the humanity? Where is the struggle? Is there any joy? Humor? Do I know anyone like this? St. Bridget’s life meets many of my preconceived notions of holiness…and breaks the rest to bits. Her life, from beginning to end, really did radiate holiness. She did found a religious order. She wrote extensively about her exchanges with Christ. And that’s about as far as my prejudices get me (note to self). Major Life Changes Bridget is said to have been happily married to Prince Ulf, and to have borne eight children (among them, St. Catherine of Sweden). Both Bridget and her husband were underwhelmed by the frivolity of their royal lives and they became Pilgrims on the Compostela. Her husband died following this trip. Bridget was prompted in a vision to begin a monastery in Sweden before relocating to Rome. At this point, St. Bridget did experience a change in vocation. Her role as widow and mother turned quickly to one of pilgrim and advocate against the sins of injustice of the time, particularly slavery. She had harsh words for the Pope (Urban V) and is remembered for strongly reprimanding said Pope for negligence of duties and souls. Bridget is a woman who feels a bit more accessible in her witness, simply because she was moored in familiar circumstances, and she did it with grace. Timely Reality Her life direction shifted, not because of a major conversion or change of heart, but because of the changing circumstances. She used the gifts she could share from that place, which feels like a timely reality. How many of us have started and stopped careers based on the needs of the day? She certainly did shake things up—particularly for a woman of her time. Her devotion combined with her wisdom commanded respect from her contemporaries, even the Pope, who eventually approved of her rule for the Brigittine community. Happy Marriages, held up There are countless stories of Saints that include some sort of unfortunate marital arrangement or endurance tests, because they are plentiful. Another detail about St. Bridget’s life is that she flourished in her vocation of marriage with her husband. They raised a family, ministered to the marginalized, and grew in faith and in holiness, together. True, her calling was beyond marriage. But we need stories like hers to remind us that we are sanctified in our vows and callings to loving relationships and marriages. What might a standard of holiness look like for individuals who are married? Individuals who have children? There are blessed few to choose from. St. Bridget gives a firm foundation upon which to form an answer to these questions. St. Bridget, pray for us! [bctt tweet="St. Bridget of Sweden + Preconceived Notions #BISblog //" via="no"]

Listen! A sower went out to sow. -Matthew 13:3   Growing up, we watched a lot of nature shows in our house. In that time, I got a good sampling of time-lapse photography and the wonder that is subtle change over time. This demonstration is no less impressive whether watching the evolution of a coral reef, changing fall foliage, or the growth of a child. It is sheer wonder. Knowing that I am invited—encouraged even—to participate in this creation event by way of facilitating growth is irresistible. It is one of the characteristics about God that I find most endearing. Rather than keeping the magic of cultivating beauty and life to the realm of Heaven and the work of God alone, our very sustenance comes from that ability to create alongside the Creator, in any number of ways. God seemingly delights in our efforts! Gardening and Scripture Scripture is littered with parables having everything to do with planting, growing, harvesting, yielding, and weeding. Each would have been familiar practices to listeners hearing these stories long before and long since they were recorded in the canon. These stories are hands-on illustrations of the Kingdom of God. For these reasons and many others, I am aware of the very nourishing act it is to physically get myself into the dirt. Old shoes, muddy jeans, floppy hat. Everything about gardening is tactile and metaphor. So to be a gardener is basically to learn like a child. In doing so, here are some familiar truths that I am reminded of each growing season. God made dirt and dirt don’t hurt. Soaked knees and nose in the earthy aroma of spring dirt is the posture of one creating (Genesis 2:7). Mud under my fingernails and in the calluses on my hands is the most authentic sign that this season has begun. And isn’t that true? Some of the most important work we do lingers with us (whether we like it or not). Think of the scrubs worn by healthcare professionals at daily Mass, the fifteen passenger van for the childcare provider, circles under the eyes of the overnight shift worker, sun tan on the arms of the farmer, paint on the hands of the painter. One of the most gratifying things to see is a child (or adult!) learning the gift of getting messy—being so invested in the work they are undertaking that they can no longer separate themselves from it, or remain untouched by it. This is the heart of incarnational theology. Let nothing be wasted. Compost is my favorite part of this equation—not the most important, but the one that has taught me the most. When we moved into our home, we cajoled my brother into building us a compost bin out by the garden. As our children grew and learned where to go with trash like banana peels, we’d encourage them to feed it to the worms. We’d take our compost out, turn it with a pitchfork, and un-earth the hundreds of worms working hard to turn our coffee grounds, tea bags, chicken poop, lawn clippings into the very fertilizer we depend on to supply our tomato plants with nutrient in our clay-like, western soil. So much can be said about not wasting the tiniest incidental, just like in the multiplication of the loaves and fishes in John’s Gospel when the leftovers were gathered together (John 6:12). It all gets used, and it makes the yield that much bigger. Who but God would have imagined that even the smelly, used-up gunk that we’d prefer to pitch at the first sign of odor would become life-giving sustenance to new life? Hope. I really don’t believe that a person can be a grower of anything without harnessing the spirit of hope. Why else would we take perfectly good seeds and bury them in the dark, damp dirt? Or, bolder still, after nurturing tiny seedlings in windowsills all winter, what would inspire anyone to plant them in the ground where hail, rabbits, and scorching sun can have their way with them? Why not keep them safely tucked inside where they will not be exposed to the elements? Our hope of course, is that despite all odds, these vulnerable, unlikely sprouts will defy our cynical expectations and thrive. And thrive they do! From a tiny seed, we see fountains of zucchini, explosions of cherry tomatoes and green beans. This is the most exciting metaphor when we imagine ourselves, or our children, as these vulnerable seedlings in a world of risks and unforeseeable circumstances. We dig in, not because it is safe, or because we have a perfect forecast, but simply because it is the only equation that results in growth. The Capable Hands of Our Creator We can trust that we are in the capable hands of the very Creator who delights in our thriving and growth, despite the challenges. The same One who chose to begin life in a garden continues to nurture us in much the same way. By tending, planting, tilling, and weeding, much fruit is yielded. Would that we take comfort and hope that when compost is applied, or we find ourselves in need of pruning, we are in the capable hands of the Master Gardener. [bctt tweet="Gardening for the Soul: Creating with the Creator #BISblog //" via="no"]

“Look, Mom! That lady is feeding her baby while she drives!” shouted the alarmed voice from the backseat. Confused by this outburst, I looked around to find the woman in question. It didn’t take long for me to put the pieces together. We’d pulled up alongside of a woman who was pumping under a nursing cover, I imagined, as she drove to work. I fist-bumped her, one (former) car-pumper to another. I explained to my daughter that the woman was indeed feeding her baby while she drove, but there was no infant behind the steering wheel (crisis averted). Today is the Feast of St. Joseph the Worker. What’s the connection? There is precious little detail provided in Scripture on Joseph’s life on earth beyond his own "yes," after the visit of the angel, encouraging him to take Mary as his wife (Matt. 1: 20-21). His brief Scriptural appearances speak volumes about the nature of his relationship with God, as well as his relationship with Jesus and Mary. Joseph is known as the patron of the Universal Church, fathers, a happy death, and social justice. He is nearly always depicted with a lily, symbolizing purity, or a carpenter’s square, representing his vocation as a carpenter. How do we integrate the charism of St. Joseph the Worker into our daily lives? We have so little information on this pivotal character in the story of the life of Christ. What we do have is often presented as a patron Saint for men. As women, how do we integrate the charism and wisdom of St. Joseph into our daily lives? What do we know about Jesus’ earthly father? Theologians and Scripture scholars agree that based on the details we have on St. Joseph, there are three clear themes that we can learn from. 1. Working in the Margins The most clear picture we have is the fact that Joseph worked as a carpenter to support their household. This was a trade he knew, and the trade he would teach to Jesus. More than likely, this was a job for Joseph that took place within his home, in the margins of their family time. Unlike the schedules of today, where careers are often associated with a particular place and time, Joseph could integrate his work as well as his apprenticing Jesus, to the rhythms of their daily life. Maybe you are working a job that provides that certain "blue flame" as Jennifer Fulwiler has described. I hope so. So often as women, the callings that give us the most life are the ones that require us to carve out time and space in the folds of our days. Not because we are being paid for them, rather, we simply can’t not do them. St. Joseph inspires me to integrate the gifts I have to share—somewhere, anywhere they’ll fit in the space of a day. 2. Humbly, in Silence St. Joseph was entrusted with an incredible responsibility as Jesus’ earthly father. And yet, there is a reverberating humility that surrounds all the details of his life. With all reason to be assured that he was doing the will of God, even influencing the shape of human history, he does it quietly and in the background. Aren’t there times when our obedience, our "yeses," our own sacrifices and self-gift feel a little bit as though they might be worth celebrating? And yet, they aren’t. This is a viscerally human experience, and perhaps one Joseph understood well. Like Jesus, Joseph’s very nature seems to be content to point back to the Lord with the actions and (limited) words of his life. We can learn a lot by emulating him in this quiet way. 3. Provider Joseph’s role as provider for the Holy Family is likely what he is best-known for. In concrete physical and spiritual ways, he supported the lives of Mary and Jesus. The work of his hands literally put food on their table and bolstered their faith by putting it into practice. It can be easy to separate ourselves from the lives of the Saints. To put up walls around the holy work done by their hands and to assume we are not called to (or capable of?) the same. But I think this is a misconception. In the same way that St. Joseph understood his particular call to provide materially and spiritually for Jesus and Mary, we too can understand our calling in our day to day experience. St. Joseph the Worker Animates Our Service to Others Whether for the Children’s Liturgy of the Word program that you volunteer to teach, the food drive you organize at work, the 5k you run to support a cause close to your heart, the margin-work you make time for because you have a God-given gift to be shared, the precious ounces of breast-milk you pump during your daily commutes, the faith life you support by sponsoring an RCIA candidate, the foster children you open your home to, you are doing the work of the Church. This is the supporting ministry of St. Joseph the Worker at its finest. How can you imitate the work of St. Joseph in your own life today? Want to learn more about Saint Joseph, patron of the Universal Church? Check out this incredible video series with our own Beth Davis!   [bctt tweet="St. Joseph the Worker #BISblog //" via="no"]

By and large, the Easter Sundays I have celebrated these past thirty-some years have spanned the spectrum and landed primarily on the joyful side. As a child, Easter joy made sense to me for the most part because of things like baby bunnies, Peeps, egg hunts, Easter dresses, fancy shoes, and Alleluias. What’s not to celebrate?! As a young adult, I felt my faith deepening as I learned the name for the three Holy Days (Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil/Easter Sunday) in which the Church celebrates her highest feast—the Triduum. As a cradle Catholic, I began to understand that some folks had been preparing for entrance into the Church all year through RCIA. Adults, like my college roommate, would join us at Easter Vigil. Sometimes that even meant witnessing full immersion baptism in the Baptismal font! Imagine my joy when individuals from our marriage prep class and our small faith-sharing group decided to join the Church. We were able to witness not only their faith-journey and discernment process, but we welcomed them fully to the table of the Eucharist. The season went from a very surface-level experience of happiness to one moored in deep emotion and spiritual significance. The Lenten days meant the final days of preparation before one big celebration! A Different Kind of Triduum The rug got pulled out from under me a couple of years ago, when my biggest heartache to date synchronized perfectly with Holy Week. We had learned earlier that winter that we were expecting our third child. This created space for even more joy in our Easter preparation. What better way to celebrate new life?! I had been feeling good—suspiciously good—so I was looking forward to our first ultrasound to confirm that all was well. Our doctor quietly shared that she was struggling to find a heartbeat. She wondered if somehow we’d miscalculated our due date. We were told to come back next week for a follow-up. Our appointment was scheduled for 3 p.m. on Good Friday. We hoped for good news, but our fears were confirmed. With Mary at the Cross In some ways it was fitting to attend the Good Friday service that evening. To feel in my whole being the heartbreak of grieving for an innocent one lost and the unfairness of it all. My tears didn’t feel out of place before the barren altar that night. In a new way, I clung to Mary at the foot of the Cross for comfort. Celebrating Easter Sunday When You're Still Mourning Good Friday What was harder came next. What was harder was the immediacy of hope: coming back to church the next night, candles burning brightly, singing that life had conquered death. If I’m honest, in my very being, I felt like a sham. I felt like a living contradiction to the celebration. To say the least, Easter joy didn’t come for me that spring. How had I never noticed the whip-lash extremes of grief-turned-joy that is the Church’s celebration of the Paschal Mystery? More than that, how had I been oblivious to the faction of the Church for whom the melancholy of Good Friday felt an appropriate metaphor for their own circumstances? I could easily participate in the heartache of Good Friday. But it felt like a lot to ask of me to rally for dry eyes—never mind the excitement of Jesus conquering the grave—despite its significance in my life. I realize now that I was not alone in this place. Our suffering can be borne because it is shared by the entire Mystical Body. [bctt tweet="Our suffering can be borne because it is shared by the entire Mystical Body. #BISblog //" via="no"] We are Not Alone A dear friend reminded me during this time that, “Good Friday doesn’t always come on Good Friday and Easter doesn’t always happen on Easter Sunday.” And she’s right. What I’m slowly learning about my own experiences of death in all its forms—of a hope, of a loved one, a dream, a relationship, perfect health, a job, or even the normalcy of routine—is that our losses deserve to be mourned and to be mourned fully. Jesus Himself tasted grief, betrayal, even death for a short time so that we might not venture anywhere God has not already been. We have the promise of life fulfilled to look forward to. “We are an Easter people, and Alleluia is our song,” after all. But our grieving hearts aren’t expected to get there on any particular timeline. This is a helpful reminder as the trumpets blast, lilies intoxicate our senses, and our sanctuaries are transformed from barren deserts to lush oases and our tender hearts can’t quite keep up. Our "good Fridays" can and should be embraced. This also implies that our own experiences of resurrection are to come with feasting and celebration, too. We have the hope of resurrection to look forward to in God’s own time. It may not happen in the way we would expect or even prefer. But the Lord does not leave us idly stranded in our despair (Jer 29:11). [bctt tweet="We have the hope of resurrection to look forward to in God’s own time. It may not happen in the way we would expect or even prefer. But the Lord does not leave us idly stranded in our despair #BISblog //" via="no"] We're Praying for All Your Good Fridays and Easter Sundays So, as I enter into Holy Week this year, I do it with the encouragement to enter fully. To bring my brokenness and the deaths I’ve had to die into the space where we re-enter the experience of Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf. And, in a new way, I do it mindful of those for whom Good Friday’s rugged airiness feels an appropriate place to hunker down for a while. If this is you, know that I enter Holy Week with you in mind as well. I pray that you, too, will catch a breath-taking glimpse at the ways you are being resurrected through Christ’s passionate love for you. It may not be the way I would have chosen when you lead me through a world that's not my home. But You never said it would be easy you only said I'd never go alone. -Ginny Owens, If You Want Me To   [bctt tweet="When Easter Sunday Feels Like Good Friday #BISblog //" via="no"]

In October of 2018, Pope Francis canonized the seven newest Saints in the Church. Among them was Bishop and martyr, St. Oscar Romero, whose first feast day we celebrate today. This day has been anxiously awaited by many, but maybe nowhere more enthusiastically than in Central America where he served as the Archbishop of San Salvador. This appointment feels particularly appropriate paired with Pope Francis’ call for clergy to be “shepherds living with the smell of the sheep.” If Oscar Romero is a familiar name to you, you’re likely familiar with his iconic black-framed glasses and his powerful words spoken on behalf of those on the margins. If not, here is a quick glimpse at the man we celebrate today. Either way, let us sit together with the challenge he lays before us: God is not satisfied with appearance. God wants the garment of justice. God wants Christians dressed in love. -Saint Oscar Romero   Romero was and continues to be a figurehead of what the Gospel looks like when it is lived out, particularly in the face of social sin. This speaks to both the beauty and risk that Christians in positions of authority face while taking up the cause of the people they represent. Like all saints, Oscar Romero’s life was a witness to love made manifest by Jesus Christ. Smelling Like the Sheep Oscar Romero was among the most unlikely to be chosen for his assignment as Archbishop of El Salvador. Due to the tumultuous and violent time in the country’s history, his appointment was expected to be a non-event by local government. It was feared to be a non-event by local clergy who had seen the outright abuse of the Salvadoran people and their need for a voice. However, Romero’s heart along with his leadership were transformed by the people whom he shepherded. These people were at the mercy of a corrupt government. Rather than being elected as one who might maintain the status quo in times of political unrest—keeping clear distinct lines between Church and state—Romero became a champion of the poor. In doing so, he invited tremendous controversy in his local community and beyond. When we speak for the poor, please note that we do not take sides with one social class. What we do is invite all social classes, rich and poor, without distinction, saying to everyone let us take seriously the cause of the poor as though it were our own. -Saint Oscar Romero   In the midst of the Salvadoran Civil War, after the attacks and murders of many priests and nuns, Romero had the gumption to call out soldiers who were not living out their Baptismal call by their persecution of the poor. He also called upon the countries who were providing assistance to the party in power. Romero was assassinated while saying Mass on this day in 1980. The Legacy of St. Oscar Romero Today is the first opportunity we have had to celebrate the sainthood of Oscar Romero. Many Saints have long-celebrated histories of celebrations unique to them. But Romero’s feast day is an invitation for reflection on the holy life of this new Saint and to incorporate traditions that fit with his life and values. I can easily think of ways we’ve celebrated familiar feast days. Photos of deceased loved ones on All Saints, green milk on Saint Patrick’s Day, King Cake on Mardi Gras, red, glittery hearts for St. Valentine’s Day. How to Celebrate to Feast of St. Oscar Romero Admittedly I don’t have much practice with imagining ways to commemorate the life of an inspirational figure. But here are a few possibilities that come to mind, following his lead: Reflect honestly: Where do I notice social sin and speak out against it? Where might I? Do I stay with the story beyond the headline? How might I hold those who are being unjustly persecuted in prayer? How can I help them in more tangible ways during Lent and every day? Enjoy empanadas or tamales in celebration with Romero’s native San Salvador. Purchase and brew fair trade coffee or chocolate in reverence for the coffee growers and migrant workers Romero was supporting in his community. They reminded him of the image of God. Learn about the organization and people that grows and harvests one product you use. We Need Romero's Brand of Holiness Romero offers a rare and vital witness to a life that is uncompromising in Gospel values in the life of Church and state. For many, his witness is uncomfortable. It pushes past where we might prefer our comfort zone to stretch. This is exactly why we need him. His faithfulness is remembered today. In a special way, we celebrate his commitment to accompanying—even to death—those whom the world had forgotten and exploited. By contrast, whoever out of love for God gives oneself to the service of others will live, like the grain of wheat that dies, but only apparently…Only in undoing itself does it produce the harvest. -Saint Oscar Romero   In the same way that we depend upon the truth-speakers in our lives that will tell us when we have the proverbial “spinach” in our teeth, or when we have stepped completely (or even partially) out of line, we have a distinct need for Saints that challenge us to step outside of ourselves in faith on behalf of others. These treasures are few and far between. When we find them, we know in our bones the treasure they are. So it is with those not-so-quiet, holy companions who model for us and direct us toward a life of Gospel living. Saint Oscar Romero, pray for us! [bctt tweet="Why We Need St. Oscar Romero #BISblog //" via="no"]

Although any farm-kid will tell you that there are limitations to being tied to the land, I have always romanticized it. I love the stability and commitment to a particular place and community, the wonder of dark nights, without the nearest town encroaching on a view of the stars. Barn cats, chickens, and all manner of pets I didn’t have growing up. The sense of stewardship and neighbor, when convenience might be far away, is compelling. It makes me wish for a time when we are simultaneously more connected and less connected. Farms and Feast Days The best memory I have on a farm and of this feast day was on a trip to my friend’s family dairy farm one weekend during college. It was a delightful visit to her small hometown, to be with her family, and to have a glimpse of the daily rituals of a life dependent upon the rhythms of the season. Obviously this meant being at work, early, having some downtime until midday chores, and then going out again in the evening as they put the farm and animals to bed. Having company on the farm, unaccustomed to these rituals, is probably equal parts comical, fun, and possibly even helpful. I imagine that’s the case anyway, when a child comes home from college and brings a fellow social work student. My friend gave me a tour of the farm she’d known since childhood. Her dad pulled us around farm-fields on an inner-tube behind their snowmobile. She tried to wake me for 4 a.m. chores (this visitor turned out not to be much help, a sleepy choice I regret). It also meant the blessing of the throats that Sunday. The Feast of St. Blaise I hadn’t remembered participating in this tradition prior to my visit to Miesville in their beautiful, white, high-steepled country church. It was a small congregation of course, but they were committed to receiving the grace of this blessing, snow and farm chores be darned. I observed the priest makes a cross with two candles—blessed on the Feast of the Presentation—over the neck of each recipient. In some cases, the candles may be secured in a candelabra, tied with a red ribbon (symbolizing martyrdom), or simply held to form a cross. May Almighty God at the intercession of St. Blaise, Bishop and Martyr, preserve you from infections of the throat and from all other afflictions. So, I joined the faithful who’d arrived that February morning, baring their throats between lighted candles to receive the blessing. Stepping Up When Called Out There is, after all, some grace in being called out of ourselves into something we never imagined we might take part in. Public speaking, living in a cold climate, caring for a loved one who is ill, advocating for a child with special needs, leading Vacation Bible School, performing car maintenance, or morning chores on a dairy farm. One day, circumstances call for it and our invitation stands before us, beckoning that we might know ourselves in a broader sense than we might ever have expected. I suspect God takes some delight in this. Likely all of us know this experience of becoming the teacher/confidant/nurse/advocate/pastoral presence that a situation calls for whether or not we were “ready” for it, or when our calendar prepared us for a U-turn. We rally, generally, for those we love. But on our best days, we rally for those we may not even know. And in a sense, this is the story of St. Blaise. [bctt tweet="We rally, generally, for those we love. But on our best days, we rally for those we may not even know. And in a sense, this is the story of St. Blaise. #BISblog //" via="no"] The Life of St. Blaise Blaise was a physician early in his life. His particular calling was to provide physical healing for those in his community. Because of his devout faith and holistic nurturing of those in his care, he became known as a healer of many kinds—including spiritual. After the local bishop died, Blaise was chosen to be his successor. Rather than living out his days in a role he had practiced, perfected, and likely felt comfortable in, the Holy Spirit seemed to have a more imaginative take on the gifts Blaise would offer this particular community. In this light, the blessing of the throats makes heaps more sense. St. Blaise was martyred in 316 after being arrested for his Christian Faith. Legend holds that even on his journey to prison, he was asked to intercede on behalf of a woman whose child was choking on a bone, and the child’s life was saved. Blaise’s gift of bringing healing to those afflicted in a variety of ways—particularly afflictions of the throat—is helpful imagery in the unique and tactile blessing Catholics receive today. Bearing His Image, Bearing His Light All of this points to the nature of our Creator who is actively participating in the daily lives and callings we experience; re-making the faithful into images that bear the imago dei, image of Christ, to the world. With confidence, and in the company of St. Blaise, would that our ‘yeses’ be bold (not sleepy), and our illusions of the shapes our lives might take, be colored by the One posing the invitation who is Ever Ancient, Ever New. So it is with You and how You make me new With every season's change And so it will be as You are re-creating me Summer, autumn, winter, spring. -Nichole Nordeman, Every Season Have you ever received the blessing of the throats on the feast of St. Blaise? Will you receive it this year? [bctt tweet="The Feast of St. Blaise + the Blessing of the Throats #BISblog //" via="no"]

Happy new year, sisters, and welcome to 2019! I hope that this idle Tuesday serves as a day of peace. Whether it is savored early in the morning over coffee, seized during naps, or in the cacoon of a quiet armchair still illuminated by Christmas lights, find a moment for yourself to take a deep breath and stand on the cusp of this new year. Resolutions aside, there can be such a wonderful feeling of possibility that comes with turning the first page of a calendar. What do you hope to try this year? What invitation is awaiting your "yes" or "no"? How do you hope to grow in the next twelve months? The Blessed is She Planner + the Fruits of the Holy Spirit Speaking of calendars, if you’re looking for one, the 2019 Blessed is She liturgical planners are debuting on kitchen tables, offices, and in purses across the country this week. I wanted to offer a little sneak peek inside (get yours here—I like the mini). The planners have been beautifully paired with the 12 fruits of the Holy Spirit in hopes that each month might serve as an invitation to grow more deeply in that particular fruit. At the request of one thoughtful sister, we’ve put together a booklist for 2019 that mirrors the 12 fruits of the Holy Spirit as outlined in the BIS liturgical planner. You might use this to supplement or add to your spiritual reading moving forward. Feel free to implement with a book club or Bible study group as well! Fruits of the Spirit Book List As you will notice, some of these suggestions are really hefty theological reading. Others tend more toward the practical application—or even what this virtue is not. I’ve tried to be really intentional about sharing a good variety of voices that represent lay, religious, ordained, and ecumenical men and women (not all books are explicitly Catholic) in recognition of the spectrum of vocations and life experiences represented by this growing community of women. I hope that this provides at least a jumping off point, but I think this would make for a great Facebook group discussion, too. What books would you add? January // Charity Justice and Charity, Fulton Sheen The Poor Belong to Us: Catholic Charities and American Welfare, Dorothy M. Brown and Elizabeth McKeowen God is Love (Deus Caritas Est), Pope Benedict XVI The Way of Trust and Love, Fr. Jacques Phillipe February // Joy The Joy in Loving: A Guide to Living, St. Mother Teresa The Joy of Discipleship, Pope Francis Choose Joy: Because Happiness Isn't Enough, Kay Warren The Pursuit of Happiness God's Way: Living the Beatitudes, Servais Pinekaers, OP March // Peace On the Other Side of Fear: How I Found Peace, Hallie Lord Way to Inner Peace, Fulton Sheen The Peace Promise, John Kuypers Searching for and Maintaining Peace, Fr. Jacques Philippe April // Patience A Golden Book of the Three Tabernacles: Poverty, Humility and Patience, Thomas A. Kempis Patience and Humility: A Handbook for Christians, Fr. William Ullathorne Love is Patient, But I'm Not, Christopher West The Power of Patience: How This Old-Fashioned Virtue Can Improve Your Life, M.J. Ryan May // Kindness The Hidden Power of Kindness: A Practical Handbook for Souls Who Dare to Transform the World, One Deed at a Time, Fr. Lawrence Lovasik On the Exceeding Worth of Kindness, Reverend J. Guibert, S.S. Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life, Henri J.M. Nouwen Love Kindness: Discover the Power of a Forgotten Christian Virtue, Barry H. Corey June // Goodness You Crown the Year With Your Goodness: Sermons Throughout the Liturgical Year, Hans Urs von Balthasar Gracious Goodness: Living Each Day in the Gifts of the Spirit, Melanie Svoboda Taste and See: Experiencing the Goodness of God with Our Five Senses, Ginny Kubitz Moyer A Man of the Beatitudes, Luciana Frassati July // Generosity Return of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen Courageous Generosity: A Bible Study for Women on Heroic Sacrifice, Stacy Mitch Happy Are You Poor, Fr. Thomas DuBay Not of This World: A Guide to Catholic Minimalism, Sterling Jaquith August // Gentleness Invite the Holy Spirit into Your Life: Growing in Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self-Control, Deanna G. Bartalini The Gifts of Imperfection, Brené Brown Contemplate the Gentleness of God, C. Dumont Gentleness, Robert Strand September // Faithfulness Come, Be My Light, St. Teresa of Calcutta The Duty of Delight, Dorothy Day The Reed of God, Caryll Houselander Chiara Corbella Petrillo: A Witness to Joy, Simone Troisi October // Modesty A Return to Modesty: Discovering the Lost Virtue, Wendy Shalit Humility: Wellspring of Virtue, Dietrich von Hildebrand The Other Side of Beauty, Leah Darrow Dressing with Dignity, Colleen Hammond November // Self-Control Leisure as the Basis of Culture, Josef Pieper Better Than Before: What I Learned About Making and Breaking Habits—to Sleep More, Quit Sugar, Procrastinate Less, and Generally Build a Happier Life, Gretchen Rubin Momnipotent, Danielle Bean Story of a Soul, St. Therese of Lisieux December // Chastity The Thrill of the Chaste (Catholic Edition): Finding Fulfillment While Keeping Your Clothes On, Dawn Eden Back to Virtue, Peter Kreeft The Courage to Be Chaste, Fr. Benedict J. Groeschel C.F.R. Theology of the Body for Beginners, Christopher West Reading, Learning, and Loving in the New Year I cannot imagine what the past year has meant for you or what the new year will bring. And yet, this is as good a new beginning as any. Being a native of the cold north, I continue to hold onto this notion of the new year as this wonderful, windy, wild place—which are many of the same adjectives I find myself using to describe the Holy Spirit. Here’s to a new year full of life, inspiration, wisdom, virtue, community, and sisterhood. Come, Holy Spirit! What spiritual books are you reading this year? Will you pick up anything from this list? Let's share ideas in the comments! [bctt tweet="Fruits of the Spirit Book List for 2019 #BISblog //" via="no"]

Have you had this conversation in your head, too? It goes something like this: “This is all just too much. You’ve spoiled me. I forgot so-and-so! There are simply too many people to exchange gifts with at this gathering. What could we do instead?” This is the perfect jumping off point for so many new traditions. Consider this your invitation to try gifting differently, this year or next. Get some supporters or try it out on your own. Today, I'll give you seven ideas worth trying. Setting the Mood for Meaningful and Minimalist Gift Giving Find the Pandora Advent stations—or at least the closest thing to them (Instrumental Christmas Music is a good one). Even classical radio stations will regularly play seasonal tunes precisely because there are so many to choose from. With all of these options, I find that I’m able to get into the spirit without the Chipmunks and Elvis chiming in each hour. When I get in this headspace—it doesn’t matter if I’m in the car, the kitchen, or in the mix of wrapping and decorating—I’m instantly calmer and cheerier. This cannot be undervalued as we sift through the commercialism and rush that this season can bring. At the end of the day, our hope is to be prepared to welcome those in our midst; specifically, the Christ. 7 Ways to Gift, Differently 1. The Three Wise Men Friends of ours have introduced us to their practice of giving gifts in threes, just as the Wise Men chose three gifts for the Christ Child. This has worked well in our family. So few of our extended relatives can resist sending “a little something.” And suddenly our kiddos are peppered with gifts they cannot track. Another approach I’ve appreciated includes four categories of practical gifts that serve a purpose without winding up in the donate bin two weeks later: Something you want Something you need Something to wear Something to read (Consider Iceland’s Jólabókaflóð, or “book flood,” which includes exchanging books with everyone on Christmas Eve and spending the evening reading those new books.) 2. Thinking Globally A tradition my parents began at a neighborhood Christmas party was to put a basket out where folks could leave their donations to the Heifer Project. At the end of the evening, we counted the money collected. The children chose how they’d like to use the pooled money to help families in developing nations become self-sufficient. 3. Embrace St. Nicholas Day and Epiphany This can be a tough sell with little kids. But we have such a rich array of options for celebrating the coming of Christ. Gifts that fit in a shoe! A delicious meal on Christmas day, followed by an evening of time together, waiting for Epiphany and the opening of gifts. Simply soaking in the goodness and beauty of the occasion; a gift a day for the twelve days of Christmas, as the song goes. 4. Thinking Locally This idea can go one of two ways. Supporting local small businesses in your community is a way to support the work and dignity of families in your own neighborhood, as opposed to big box stores and warehouses. Doing this hits at the core of several Catholic social teaching themes. There are also frequent opportunities to support local charities, meet the needs of folks on the Giving Tree through coat drives, and so on. If you have kids, this may be one of their limited experiences in choosing a gift they’d like to give, which is in itself a gift and grace to pass along. 5. Doing Homework While beginning your list of things to purchase, do some reading. Not the reviews on Amazon, but reviews of the company. Does the company honor its workers and pay them a just wage? Will this product last a long time? Who benefits from this sale? Was this garment made in a sweatshop or by the creative hands of a skilled craftsperson? Clearly, you pay for the difference. And you get what you pay for. This decreases the amount of clutter in our homes and the frequency with which we replace products. This, in turn, allows for us to be more generous with our resources. 6. Set Parameters Put limits on what you will spend on gifts. Who doesn’t appreciate this? Putting parameters around gift-giving, such as all homemade, hand-written letters, all second-hand, all free, all charitable contributions, etc., changes the gift exchange entirely. The possibilities are endless. Each have the potential to make the gifting much more fun for the giver as well. 7. Not “Gifts,” but Experiences It seems like more people are catching on to this concept. It gives us something to look forward to after the gift wrap and tinsel are put away. Tickets to see a movie, a city-wide scavenger hunt, walking through an art exhibit, taking a Zumba class together, etc. can have a longer-lasting impact than even the most well-intentioned presents. If the recipient is someone who loves quality time, this is a slam dunk. This is ultimately what we celebrate this season: Jesus’ desire to spend time with us, in the flesh. It’s coming! One week into Advent and the anticipation is growing. We’ve started our journey, and hopefully the commercialism and Santa-themed Advent calendars aren’t distracting us from our focus. Maybe it feels like marathon training at this point. A challenge to maintain the calm, to remain in the season, to make our homes and rituals places of peace and welcome. I think it’s timely to be reminded that the first Christmas took place in a barn. It doesn’t get more minimal than that. Of course, it’s fun to embrace the beauty and welcome friends and strangers on our doorstep. Hopefully by spending less time chasing, wrapping, and mailing gifts, we have more time to enjoy the Reason for the season. [bctt tweet="The first Christmas took place in a barn. It doesn’t get more minimal than that. #BISblog //" via="no"] May we each be gifted with the grace of enough. [bctt tweet="7 Ways to Gift Differently with Meaningful and Minimalist Gift Giving #BISblog //" via="no"]

One of my favorite memories of our first home in Minnesota was going out on a cold night (which we had no business going out into). It was probably near ten-below-zero, and had been for quite some time. But, out we went for moonlit cross-country skiing. If you time it just right, the brightness of the moon reflecting off of the snow casts shadows in the forest in the dead of night. It is an experience you will not soon forget. The night was a dark. I was introducing my husband and a dear friend to this north woods magic, and it was off to a bumpy start. Cold fingers clipped boots into skis and we shivered as we covered all but our eyes. And we set off. Doubtful as they might have been in the parking lot, what I hoped we would experience was a startling beauty in the desolation. Peace, stillness, and light tucked into the silent forest. Finding the Light The woods were still and the air was clear. We had a beautiful view of the moon through the bare trees. It was too cold to snow. Imagine our surprise when we found a trail of lights laid out by some grizzled park ranger, or some nostalgic, seasoned skier who had gone before us. We never saw the person responsible—only the work of their hands. They had left luminaries in their wake along the length of the trail. Our entire trek through the snowy hills had been altered by these lights twinkling in the snow, on an otherwise barren landscape. It was a pure gift to the souls brave enough to endure the cold that night. Isn’t that true of our Advent experiences, too? Our entire journey is altered by the Light we find shining in the dark—the very place we expected not to find it. Our Advent Journey This practice of Advent journeying takes on a variety of shapes: Maybe a candle and some prayer time are your jam before you get ready for bed. Perhaps you incorporate a Jesse tree into your Advent walk. Or the cozy, dark, early morning hours for Advent reflection call to you. If daily Mass fits into your workday, this is another way of noticing those small glimmers of hope in a season often filled with cold, muted light. If your parish participates in a cold weather shelter service, you might get to offer hospitality in honor of the Holy Family who found no room at the inn. There is no "right" way to enter into the season of Advent. It remains an opportunity to be on the lookout for the shimmering light of Christ, like the Magi, even when it feels far-off. It is one of the few practices of waiting we afford ourselves at this point in time. Yet it can be cause for so much impatience when we look ahead to the celebration just around the corner. How do we contain ourselves? Seekers and Bringers of Light At the same time, I wonder if that hypothetical, old park ranger I imagined lighting candles in the dark, with no guarantee that anyone would notice, might be on to something. Perhaps this Advent season that is upon us is more than an invitation to be seekers of the light only. Perhaps Advent is simultaneously an invitation to be bringers of the Light (John 8:12). To have the wisdom to lavishly share what we know to be illuminating, if only for the sake of delighting the Lord—and an unsuspecting passerby. Because, if there is any one thing we know to be true of God, it is that God is Mystery and will use any and all circumstances to reveal the love He desires to lavish on us in a new way. Unexpected luminaries on a rural ski trail? Check. Physical presence in the Eucharist? Check. Infant born in a barn? Check. Our Prayer for Advent Whatever your visions for this Advent season, let’s pray that each of us be given the opportunity to become not only seekers of the Light of the World, but bringers, too. Here’s to bringing that Light to the world in a new and delightful way. Just as in the deep woods or in a dark passageway, someone carrying a flashlight can light the path, so Christ walks before you, shedding His light upon your way. -Helen Kingsbury Wallace [bctt tweet="Bringing the Light: Preparing for Advent #BISblog //" via="no"]

I think my mind will always, at the autumn time of year, drift to an old Jesuit. The letting go of fall, The relinquishment of harvesting The giving of gratitude’s The anticipation of winter All call back the image of that old man Running around the lawn Collecting leaves in his hands Weeping and kissing the trees. That is how I remember the story. He is now dead, so I cannot confirm it. Yet even if he were alive to tell the tale he wouldn’t be able to inform me whether the story were true or false. You see, he had lost his memory almost totally, so he wouldn’t have been able to remember what had happened the previous fall. He wouldn’t have been able to remember that there had been a spring. The man lived totally in the present. In the presence. Not by gift of mysticism, but by erosion of the body. And so when the leaves started falling each fall, it was the end of the world for him. The trees were dying. The earth was ending. No wonder it was an occasion for such tender handling of the leaves and embracing of the earth. Having lost his memory, he had won that sweet and painfully overwhelming sense of the present. To savor, to relish, to give thanks. How easy to lose the simple present. We replay the past, rehearse the future as some kind of conscious armor against the terribly fleeting present. We hope not to feel the hurt of impermanence as much, but we’ve unfortunately traded off our childlike and ancient sensitivity for the eternal now. We suffer the delusion that if we hold ourselves back from caring too much, we will never feel the damage of the loved one now lost. We pass. We are passing away. And this dear earth passes. But there is now. To kiss the falling leaves. To embrace the trees. The point is not to fear the regret of having meant so much to someone that absence might bring pain. The point is not to protect ourselves from loving this present earth, this present face, but to let our hearts be indeed broken By each earthly departure, By all dear separations, By every aching distance. For it is a breaking open, a wound, a poorness of love that fills us with Love’s very self. As C.S. Lewis sang: For this I bless you as the rain falls. The pains you give me Are more precious Than all other gains. -Fall, by John Kavanaugh, SJ Reflect The trees are about to show us how lovely it is to let things go. Anonymous [bctt tweet="The trees are about to show us how lovely it is to let things go. #BISblog #BISrests //" via="no"] Listen For musical inspiration for your restful Sunday, listen to our BIS Rests playlist. [bctt tweet="BIS Rests: Leaves + Trees #BISblog #BISrests //"]

Today marks the much-celebrated feast of St. Francis of Assisi. Without him, our churches would be void of Crèches at Christmastime and our animal companions would go unblessed (for starters). Francis loved any reason to gather people together to give praise to God. If that meant sheep and a donkey in the church courtyard for a living nativity, so much the better! The heavens declare the glory of God. – Ps. 19: 2-5 Our God of Creation Because of the creative nature of God, the Church has long held the concept of two books of revelation: Scripture & creation, each illustrating and revealing to humanity who God is. Our divine imaginations are stirred in a variety of ways. This is why we can study the inspired Word of God and observe its Truth in the "book" of creation as well. St. Francis grasped this early, as written beautifully in his Canticle of Creation. Pope Francis grasped this inspiration early in his papacy as he penned the Encyclical letter, Laudato Si: I do not want to write this Encyclical without turning to that attractive and compelling figure, whose name I took as my guide and inspiration when I was elected Bishop of Rome. I believe that Saint Francis is the example par excellence of care for the vulnerable and of an integral ecology lived out joyfully and authentically. He is the patron saint of all who study and work in the area of ecology, and he is also much loved by non-Christians. He was particularly concerned for God’s creation and for the poor and outcast. He loved, and was deeply loved for his joy, his generous self-giving, his openheartedness. He was a mystic and a pilgrim who lived in simplicity and in wonderful harmony with God, with others, with nature and with himself. He shows us just how inseparable the bond is between concern for nature, justice for the poor, commitment to society, and interior peace. Catholics and Creation Certainly there have been questions raised over the Church’s taking a position on matters of the environment as an issue of morality. But three themes stand out that suggest St. Francis and Pope Francis are each pointing us toward a more just and accountable role within our world as a people of faith. 1. Evaluating our identity as stewards of the gifts God has given. We are not God. The earth was here before us and it has been given to us. This allows us to respond to the charge that Judaeo-Christian thinking, on the basis of the Genesis account which grants man “dominion” over the earth (cf. Gen 1:28), has encouraged the unbridled exploitation of nature by painting him as domineering and destructive by nature. This is not a correct interpretation of the Bible as understood by the Church. -Laudato Si, 67 Simply put, our misguided interpretation of the word “dominion” has become a stumbling block. Rather than understanding humanity’s role as one of dominating the earth and its richness for a quick profit, we are challenged to cultivate it. Much like the farmer who chooses to plant cover crops, or rotate their crop is investing in the future health of their soil and its yield, we as stewards of creation are encouraged to take the long view as well. Where am I being invited to act as a steward? 2. Acknowledging our responsibility to God’s anawim, those who live on the margins. For example, changes in climate, to which animals and plants cannot adapt, lead them to migrate. This in turn affects the livelihood of the poor, who are then forced to leave their homes with great uncertainty for their future and that of their children. There has been a tragic rise in the number of migrants seeking to flee from the growing poverty caused by environmental degradation. They are not recognized by international conventions as refugees. They bear the loss of the lives they have left behind without enjoying any legal protection whatsoever. Sadly, there is widespread indifference to such suffering, which is even now taking place throughout our world. Our lack of response to these tragedies involving our brothers and sisters points to the loss of that sense of responsibility for our fellow men and women upon which all civil society is founded. The people of West Africa surrounding the Lake Chad basin, coastal Bangladesh, Puerto Rico, and parts of coastal Louisiana, and Alaska, are already experiencing this phenomenon. And yet, "climate refugees" do not receive refugee status. They are not fleeing violence or persecution as the term "refugee" has traditionally been defined. To create this new category of displaced refugees would further stretch the funds available to those who are fleeing violent circumstances. Perhaps this explains the "lack of response" that Pope Francis describes. But the problem is clear and growing. What is one habit I can learn that would benefit God’s anawim, those in greatest need? 3. Reverencing God as the Divine Creator, Author of creation. Never have we so hurt and mistreated our common home as we have in the last two hundred years. Yet we are called to be instruments of God our Father so that our planet might be what he desired when he created it and correspond with his plan for peace, beauty, and fullness. -Laudato Si, 53 Air pollution from vehicles and industries. Unsustainable farming practices. Loss of rainforests. Waste so prevalent it has created an island twice the size of Texas in the Pacific Ocean. These are certainly recent contributors to the problem before us. Many of humanity’s great advances and discoveries have come with a tremendous amount of convenience and disposability. We believe that creation itself is God’s self-revelation, and that we are made in the image and likeness of God. So this “throw away culture” that Pope Francis dubbed in 2013 remains as harmful for the environment as it is for the human person. It undermines the value of the good gifts we know to be from the Divine Creator. What is one new practice I can adopt to care for the gift that is our common home? St. Francis of Assisi, Lover of God in Creation As followers of Christ, we already know that the right way and the easy way are not synonymous. In the spirit of St. Francis of Assisi, may we too be remembered for our reverence of this divine gift that is our earthly home. St. Francis of Assisi, pray for us! [bctt tweet="St. Francis of Assisi and the God of Creation #BISblog //" via="no"]

How romantic, I remember thinking. Getting engaged on the heels of a charity bike ride, in front of the chapel where we’d walked on our first date... How memorable. And it was each of these things. The truth is I had begun to get a little, ahem, antsy for what I hoped would be a proposal several Septembers ago. I imagined it was coming. But after a few milestone dates passed, it was anyone’s guess when this might occur. I had become suspicious of any and all happenings. So, when he did pop the question, I was thinking of very little else. As we talked, he shared that he’d waited until this day so that we might begin planning for our life together as a married couple. We wanted to be always mindful of those who are poor and marginalized, in the spirit of this great Saint we both had come to admire—John Chrysostom—whose feast we celebrate today. St. John Chrysostom, Our Patron Saint I might have known there would have been someone sitting outside the restaurant where we’d gone to celebrate our engagement that night, quietly asking for leftovers outside of the brightly-colored benches and front doors. As I handed him my box of leftover alfredo, I had an inclination that more than a meaningful proposal, this Saint meant to begin a lifetime of walking with us. It was going to begin today. Lovely. Who couldn’t use a devoted intercessor? The Golden Mouth Except, if you were to take a survey of his peers, by and large, most folks didn’t care for St. John Chrysostom. Or maybe they liked him in theory, but he wasn’t the type of person you might think of as an obvious addition to a casual gathering of friends. He was wordy, fiery, frank, and Gospel-centered. John was compelled by God Incarnate and the call to serve the poor with Jesus’ humanity in mind. He was dubbed “the golden mouth” because of the very pretty, very many words he’d use to make his points at the pulpit. Do You Fast? Do you fast? Give me proof of it by your works. If you see a poor man, take pity on him. If you see a friend being honored, do not envy him. Do not let only your mouth fast, but also the eye and the ear and the feet and the hands and all the members of our bodies. Let the hands fast, by being free of avarice. Let the feet fast, by ceasing to run after sin. Let the eyes fast, by disciplining them not to glare at that which is sinful. Let the ear fast, by not listening to evil talk and gossip. Let the mouth fast from foul words and unjust criticism. For what good is it if we abstain from birds and fishes, but bite and devour our brothers and sisters? May He who came to the world to save sinners strengthen us to complete the fast with humility, have mercy on us and save us. -St. John Chrysostom A Constant Call to Holiness There are days I wonder if this John Chrysostom engagement vision wasn’t such a good idea. After all, who wants to have a justice-minded, truth-talker constantly encouraging you to re-evaluate the decisions you have to make in terms of the most vulnerable? Not I. The truth is, I don’t really want to be dogged by conscience about everything from who harvested my coffee, to the size of my carbon footprint, to whose hands stitched my clothing. But I need to be. As a couple, we need it. We need it to keep us close to our original vision of this shared life. We need it to put flesh on those invitations we hear throughout the Gospels to follow Him. Though his influence has been the source of a fair amount of consternation (because it has pushed us beyond our comfort zones for the sake of the Kingdom), it has also led us to people, places, and organizations that help us stay true to our vision. We often struggle to live lives of such intentionality, to even have the energy to think about it. But that place of struggle and the accompanying tension has provided me almost a tangible assurance that our efforts are put to some use. Even in the daily practice of dying to my own desires. Keeping Priorities Straight Our patron, St. John Chrysostom, has a habit of making us ask ourselves often if our priorities are in order. As hard as that is to hear, it is also vitally important. And we keep on listening. If you cannot find Christ in the beggar at the church door, you will not find Him in the chalice. [bctt tweet="St. John Chrysostom: The Best and Worst Idea #BISblog //" via="no"]