Catherine's Cafe Vocation Blog

My Aunt in England  was a little deaf, and my American accent didn't  help. On one of my visits home I was talking to her about God. "God who?" she queried. I said:" You know, Gawd."   "Oh Gawd, YES!",   Another time a little girl was busy coloring her paper, filling it in with her yellow crayon. Her wise teacher asked: "tell me about your picture." Looking up with amazement, she said: "This is God!"   For me today, The Divine Heart beats in all that was, is, and will be in the Cosmic Universe.    For you today, what color, texture, taste, smell, sound and or name have you grown to experience for "God Who?"    Until next time, let's breathe LOVE together,   Caroline Sullivan, OP DePere, WI

There she was On the ground Hurt Frightened Vulnerable. I took her in my hands She clung to my finger Breathing, resting. There I was Talking to her Stroking her breast, her back Feeling her wings. Are you hurt? How can I help? Silence Presence Ministering Being ministered to. Connection Compassion Love. A while passed. In humble adoration. Then she turned her head Looked me straight in the eye And flew away. A bird in the hand… A word of God. Broken, Spoken, Received. With Gratitude. “This is  the season for letting our prayer be inspired anew  by closeness to nature, which spontaneously leads us to give thanks to God the Creator. Saint Bonaventure, that eloquent witness to Franciscan wisdom, said that creation is the first “book” that God opens before our eyes, so that, marveling at its order, its variety and its beauty, we can come to love and praise its Creator (cf.  Breviloquium , II, 5, ...

Hello! My name is Annie Henkel, OP and I live in Mobile, Alabama. I teach art and ukulele for the City Parks and Recreation Department. I also give some occasional retreats. What I’m thinking about as I listen to the surf and soak in the beauty of sea and sky, is how easy it is, for me at least, to lose perspective. Current events have a way of blocking the horizon. Dissonant voices drown out laughter and the sound of the breeze. Nature’s gift to me is to reestablish that fundamental connectedness. My morning prayer usually concludes with, “Okay God, please help me go forth from this place of oneness with You.” Toward mid-day, I often say, “Okay, God, show me something.” It’s amazing to me that this request seldom goes unanswered. Could be a butterfly or somebody who needs more than ukulele help. In any encounter, my question to myself is usually, “To what end?” How will my words be received? My hope is to live and preach what life lived in God can be like. To that...

I recently read a reflection that has really impacted my thinking, attitude, and prayer.  The author Fr. Herbert McCabe, an English Dominican theologian and philosopher, wrote “What matters first is that we are loved.  We matter, not first because of what we have made of ourselves, but because of what God has made of us.  To serve God is to … begin to love ourselves as God loves us: not for being rich or clever or powerful, but just for being ourselves.” This week promises to be a very busy one that could, in fact, be stressful.   What will be needed from all of us is compassion for ourselves and each other as we move through the activities of the week.   I don’t know about you, but when life happens and things don’t go as I thought they would, I tend to “stress” rather than remembering perfection doesn’t matter.   What does matter is that we are loved no matter what happens in life.   So let’s make a pact today and tomorrow to be gentle with o...

This morning, I found myself in a quiet house, with a cup of good coffee, a book of poetry, and a window inviting me to simply sit, be still and reflect on the goodness of God. A gnarled knot on the thick tentacle that was a maple tree branch stared back at me, like the eye of an octopus.   While neither the tree nor the ‘eye’ was God, I could see God in both.   In that moment, a connection was made between God, a tree, an ocean creature, and me – reaffirming the interconnectedness of all Creation.   The pregnancy of that moment birthed thoughts and images of so many people who are part of my life – family, Sisters, friends, former co-workers, people with and for whom I’ve ministered - life-long connections and connections only days old. Those connections between a wood knot, an octopus eye, God’s omnipresence, and the people in my life, prompted me to ponder the meaning of St. Paul’s exhortation to “pray without ceasing”, a challenging one for me.   Could ...

Mary Oliver’s poems so often speak to my heart at the time that I need it most.   On this Labor Day, a s I ponder the violence, injustice and oppression that are so rampant in our world, this poem speaks to my heart of my hope.   Song of the Builders On a summer morning I sat down on a hillside to think about God - a worthy pastime. Near me, I saw a single cricket; it was moving the grains of the hillside this way and that way. How great was its energy, how humble its effort. Let us hope it will always be like this, each of us going on in our inexplicable ways building the universe. Mary Oliver, Why I Wake Early (2004) What speaks to your heart ? What is it you hope for? Mary Ann Nelson, OP Madison, WI

When I am in a large group I prefer to be in the background.  It's not that I don't want to be involved, but I don't like the focus of attention to be on me.  All of this changed last month when I went to our motherhouse to celebrate my jubilee.  For three days twelve other sisters and I were the focus of attention as we gathered with family and friends to celebrate our jubilees.  As I began to read the overflowing abundance of cards and well-wishes I received I realized that the focus was not so much on me personally as it was on the witness of 50 years of living a life of faithfulness and dedication to God, the Giver of all our gifts.  What we were really celebrating was all the good accomplished through us by our Creator. After that realization I stopped thinking about being in the spotlight and joined in celebrating with gratitude the presence of God in our lives during these past years and the many blessings and graces we have each received. ...

I recently read a great story, which goes like this: A “boatman” comes from the city to camp beside a river near the author’s house, ostensibly to escape from his busy life and enjoy nature.   However, the boatman spends all his time rushing around, angrily fixing his broken boat motor, and then zooming up and down the quiet river all day.   After watching all this, the author observes with great sadness: “he had stayed as remote from the place he had come to as if he had never left the city where he lived… because he could not be still, the place could not exist for him .” (Wendell Berry, “The Nature Consumers”) As a generally busy person living in a culture which prizes busyness and fears stillness, Berry’s words read as a challenge to me.   It makes me wonder… what is it that “cannot exist” for me when I refuse to be still? When I learn to be still, the people and places that creep into my consciousness reveal God to me in new ways, breathing life into the psa...