Jane Marie Bradish

"Everything about Luce carries symbolism. Her raincoat is the color of the Vatican flag, her shoes are covered in the mud of pilgrimage, she carries a walking stick and wears a World Mission-style rosary."

It's been nearly two years since kittens Snowdrop and Stardust joined the household, and what an adventure it has been. The lessons they are teaching me are multiple.

The world in which I live is fast-paced and loud. Connections with some meaning are rare. Seeing, hearing, knowing and listening often don't factor into the day-to-day reality.

Saints, check. Souls, check. But there's a third group I'm not really sure what to do with. I knew I needed to explore how I remember those who I didn't like or didn't get along with or those who hurt me (directly or not). 

"Like it or not, everything needs to be upgraded from time to time," writes Sr. Jane Marie Bradish. She shares ways she has tried to upgrade her daily personal prayer life.

We all need the reassurance offered in the story of Jesus' transfiguration, that "you are my beloved." If we hear that message, do we believe it? And how do we act because of it?

Must everything be a competition? "What has happened to collaboration?" writes Sr. Jane Marie Bradish. "Or, maybe even more rare, simple sharing?"

"Ordinary Time, with its routines and generally less expectations, can be a great gift." writes Sr. Jane Marie Bradish. "I find we can often encounter God in new, unusual, unexpected and much-needed ways."

It's 150 years later, and the School Sisters of St. Francis are still here. We are still meeting the needs of the times, what we refer to as the will of God. A lot has changed, but the heart of who we are remains the same.

Many find saying no a struggle. "No" isn't easy. I started with small things. And I keep practicing.

There are times when our world seems to be falling apart at the seams. All the good being done seems to do nothing. And so, the haunting song question becomes my question, too. I have no answer.

Hearts need healing, not just after physical cardiac events. We've all been there, feeling not quite right on an emotional, psychological, mental, physical or spiritual level.

I've had colleagues, friends and even GSR editors tell me something along the lines of "You take a left field approach." I take that as a compliment. It serves me well when traditional prayer isn't working for me.

While I like the idea of learning from my predecessors, I prefer the imagery of anchors instead of pillars. Anchors allow for movement. But mine are gradually disappearing and I'm not liking it one bit.

It's not just the changing seasons that bring transitions. All of us face transitions on a regular basis. Growth requires change. It's those in-between times, transition times, growth times, that are bothering me right now.

During my personal feast celebrations, I take some extra time to pray and reflect and see where the feast leads me; it's never the same. 

Whether Communion, confirmation, ordination, graduation or even coronation, how much do I understand about the rituals I encounter? Why do we do what we do and how could we help people (and maybe ourselves) understand?

Although unspoken, all of us in religious life live an "extra vow" of care. Look around — there are so many needs, and we've done well meeting them. That led me to this question: How do I take care of myself?

God isn't going to just show up and "fix us." That's not how it works. We need to put time and effort into first identifying and then softening our stony hearts.

My experiences and images of God change. Sometimes I need a listening ear, sometimes a kick in the butt to get me moving, sometimes reassurance, and sometimes I have no clue what I need.