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HOME

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  I am fortunate to have an iPhone and I use the maps feature regularly when I travel to different places. What I like best is that on my return journey all I need to do is hit the HOME button and  no matter where I am it routes me safely home. I’ve been thinking about the significance of HOME lately especially as I and so many of our sisters have recently moved and settled into new spaces.  Can you find yourself at home in the gift of this day? Do you find yourself at home in your heart? I have returned to live at Sinsinawa mound and feel deeply at home. It is the space from which our sisters are sent out on mission and to which they return for their final resting place. I think of all who have been forced or bombed out of their homes. All the millions of displaced people searching for a place to call home, all the unhomed peopled on our own city streets especially veterans and those with mental health problems who have no place to call home. How am I called to respond on this journey
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A Flat Tire--A Blessing?

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On the way home from grocery shopping I had a flat tire and had to pull over on the shoulder of a ramp.  Needless to say, this was a scary experience with all the cars whizzing by--a two-lane ramp that was now a one-lane ramp. After calling AAA I got out of the car afraid my car could be hit.  A man stopped and wanted to know if he could help. Another got out of his car and helped me to see where the spare tire should be. (There was no spare tire.)  A woman went by and then came back around to see if I was alright.  A woman with a baby stopped and a man who spoke only Spanish stopped.  One man offered to stay with me until AAA arrived, and there were others, too.  All these responses were from total strangers. How blessed I felt!  I was no longer panicky or traumatized.  I was experiencing goodness and the power of kindness and caring. Doesn't that sound like a blessing? Have you ever had the experience of an unwelcome event that became a blessing? Marie Lucek OP Madison, WI  
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Destination: New Life

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I have a terrible sense of direction, so I don’t drive anywhere without my trusty Garmin stuck to the windshield. It has taken me more places than I could count over a period of many years. It’s a simple gadget to operate...just punch in the address and off you go! There have been a few times, however, when I have ended up in an entirely different place than I had intended. What went wrong??? Usually, the answer is that I went wrong. I failed to input the correct address or made some other human error that got me way off track. As we say, garbage in, garbage out.   I am learning that we can say that about our own lives, right? What I read or watch on TV or listen to on the radio determines what I think about and eventually how I act. Lent is coming soon – always an opportunity for soul-searching and renewal. I need to consider what I am feeding my soul these days. I need to choose some inspiring sources to nourish my mind. Then, come Easter, I will be able to celebrate my chosen destin
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Facing Difficult News

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This week I learned that a former member of my “crowd” (novitiate group) has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Thinking of her brought on a rush of memories of our youthful early years in the congregation, with our unknown futures stretching before us. Our life paths diverged many years ago, but a bond remains. In my note to her, I found myself promising prayers from the Sinsinawa Dominicans, because “we are your family, too.” As I was sitting with the reality of her diagnosis, I found the poem, The Facts of Life, by Padraig O Tuama. Some of the stanzas named the reality that had so stunned me.   That you will learn most from the situations you did not choose.   That you must accept change before you die, but you will die anyway.   So you might as well live And you might as well love, You might as well love. You might as well love   I would like to be able to do this living and loving no matter the circumstances. What will make it possible? Might it have something to do with fami
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Connected by Grace

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           From the time I was young, I’ve wondered why I exist; why I am me and not a tomato? Always a tomato, for some reason. From October 28, 2023 to January 26, 2024, three women so instrumental in my life, such dear friends and mentors, crossed over into the fullness of Eternal Light and Love. The homegoing of Dorothy Victor, Jeri Cashman and Ann Willits leave a huge void, yet leave me pondering again, with gratitude, the miracle of our connection. Had certain dominos not fallen in my life, had I not attended a “Come and See” event called Dubuque’s Got Sisters, I would probably never have met the Dominicans, these three dear Sisters, or any of the many, many people who have entered my life – whether briefly or long-term. I may never have known they existed. Friends, spiritual guides, co-workers, Dominican Sisters and Brothers, and so many others who have become part of my life are the product of Grace. Think about all the connections in your own life, whether you are a vowed reli
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Joyful Soror

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JOYFUL SOROR   At weekly scripture study, members shared about a young woman consecrating her life to God.  A wedding gown and a reception after were symbols of her being a Bride of Christ. Those are not symbols from the day I made the vow of obedience as a Dominican of Sinsinawa. I do not wear a wedding ring.  Jesus is my brother .  What is a symbol for my vocation?   I learn to know many sisters and brothers—   *children, wanting to know creator God,   *antiracists, learning to undo systemic racism   * exincarcerated people organizing for a more human prison system Once a neighbor asked me to drive her to find her husband where they had lived under the bridge .  What a privilege to be sister to her! A song about St Dominic, “Joyful Friar”, is symbolic of my vocation. Joyful Friar, tolerant master Grace filled preacher, Gospel man of prayer. To be a joyful sister, and grace filled preacher is my call. Here’s a version of “Joyful Friar”.  The singing seems somber for such a joyful
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A spark, a flame, a fire

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  Our little farmhouse in Minnesota had a brick fireplace in the living room and on Sundays we’d have a fire going all day during the winter months.  I remember how carefully my dad would first rumple up newspaper to put under the grate, then arrange the dry kindling in a little triangle shape, and then eventually larger logs on top.  We would watch it grow from a little spark to the crackling flames of the kindling and igniting logs. To keep the house warm, that fire had to constantly be fed. In his letter to Timothy, St. Paul urges his young disciple to “fan into a flame” the gift that God had given him.  That got me thinking about the people and events, the words of encouragement, the phone call or e-mail, that act as the match, the paper, the kindling, and even the logs that build me up, that “fan the flame” of any gift I have been given, that guide me so I do not keep it to myself, or hide it under a bushel basket, or even deny I have a gift at all.  Not only are we all on the rec
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