Six Sisters Celebrate Jubilee...

Our Chapel was filled with family and friends...
the music was our very best.


Brightly colored ribbons everywhere...

Each sister renewed her monastic profession...before GOD and all the saints.

Sister Cecilia's reflection on the Beatitudes, touched on the unique personalities and gifts of our jubilarians.

Technical difficulties...

...beyond my control. Well...I spent several hours in our kitchen this afternoon. I filmed 7 short segments that led to the presentation of a simple, yet elegant salmon preparation. We ate dinner - every morsel. Then, when I went to download the video, 6 of the segments were lost. Lost - totally, irrevocably lost. So, I am hppy to share 2:42 seconds of video. No recipe, no preparation, no final presentation, but a good story that made the leap from camera to computer. Look for another segment soon...

Community Retreat...

Friends,
Sisters Charlotte, Connie Ruth and myself will be leaving for the monastery in the morning. We begin our five-day silent retreat at 9 AM Monday, 8/3. Yup. We are given five days each summer of being silent together to hone the ear of the heart for the voice of GOD. It may sound ominous in a culture that encourages technological connectedness 24/7. In fact when I was brand new, it was difficult, to say the least. But, as the anniversary of my entrance approaches, (September, 2002), I look forward to community retreat with great joy.
Being silent together is a powerful thing. We have two conferences each day from our Retreat Director, Eucharist, and huge chunks of time for private prayer, reading and rest. Retreat is a gift from GOD - an ancient practice that recharges the spiritual batteries of women who are deeply committed to a life of prayer and work. (Oh, we do get to talk for 30 minutes each evening. After vespers we'll go to table and say grace. After the blessing of our food, the prioress will say a short, somewhat magical incantation that will loose our tongues. Then, when we leave the Dining Room, we walk back into sacred silence.) During retreat we receive no phone calls (everything will be put into our individual voicemail boxes,) there is no paging, and no TV. We receive no private guests or retreatants during these days (unless the prioress has extended that invitation,) and we are asked to leave our "work" behind for 5 days. So, my friends, I will be "off-line" until Saturday, August 8th. Look for a blog about our Jubilee celebration on Monday, August 10th.
I want to thank all of you who participated in the poll to rename our cooking show. So many wonderful ideas were submitted. We will use the most popular name, "The Bristow Bistro". Hopefully, that one is not in use anywhere or by anyone. A new segment should go live tonight - before midnight. Know that you will be in my grateful prayers this week. Please keep the Benedictine Sisters of Virginia in yours.

Blessings and love to you all...
- Sister Vicki

I like Martha...

Today the universal Church celebrates Saint Martha of Bethany. Or Benedictine ordo includes Mary, her sister, in the memorial. I like that Martha gets a day all to herself, poor thing. Martha is a real human being - the kind of saint that I can get really revved up about.

If you've ever been angry over an unjust situation, Saint Martha's your girl. If you've ever felt that your kind of holy wasn't holy enough, she' the one to pray to. If you've ever been filled with grief and faith all mixed up together? You are walking Martha's path.

OK...maybe I love her because she's always in the kitchen. No, it's more than that. In Martha I touch that place in me that LOVES work, but longs for contemplation. In Martha I find solidarity when hospitality and table service are my way to love and my greatest joy. In Martha I know that the Lord loves me just as I am - perhaps, especially when I my priorities are a bit skewed. Martha is fire and faith all in one fragile woman. Yes, I like Martha. And Jesus did, too.

Blessings and love to you all...

- Sister Vicki

NOT 4th and Walnut...

They were just seashells. But, farsighted and without my glasses on, they seemed too beautiful for words. It was my last day in the ocean and I was alone for hours on the beach. Periodically, I went out into the waves to cool down and test the current. Early in the week the tides were rough and greedy – “rip tides,” they call them. So, getting out into the deep just wasn’t possible. (I was feeling less brave, too, because we were in a new house that had a limited view of the ocean. In the old house the sisters could see me from the deck. If a good wave got hold of me, they could call for help or at least pray as I got sucked out to sea. From this house the ocean is quite visible, but the beach is not. So, I played it safe for several days.)

On Saturday the water was just perfect! The tides were even and not too strong – not the pounders we had earlier in the week that could take a dignified adult off her feet in a heartbeat. I swam several times and felt quite safe. The ocean, clear and warm, had coughed up tons of seashells – millions, I suppose. People were strolling the shoreline collecting them in bags. There were so many that my feet sunk into the shells and not the sand as I made my way to the beach. Without my glasses the shells seemed like jewels. So many colors and shapes…glistening in the morning sun…some, whole and breathtaking…some, broken into interesting shapes by the weight of too many waves. I wondered about this GOD who makes such beauty. Do we look like this to GOD - all the created souls made in the divine image and likeness? Do we shine like these in the light of grace – one of billions, equal in dignity but unique, one-of-a-kind creatures? I think so. It feels true. I didn’t collect any shells to bring home. They had already given me their gift – a moment of clarity as the beloved of GOD. These moments belong to all of us. What will you see today?
Blessings and love to you all…it's good to be back!
- Sister Vicki

Week 52...

Friends,
Sister is off for one week at the beach! (We rent a house at Kitty Hawk, NC, and go down in groups of 3-4.) I should surface at the Richmond office on Monday, 7/27. Until then know that all who visit "Monastics on a Journey" will remain in my grateful prayers...

Blessings and love to you all...
- Sister Vicki

On my way home...

I’ve been on the dark side of the moon – figuratively speaking. Although the wi-fi was plentiful at St. Ben’s, I didn’t have the same luck at St. John’s. I’ve just boarded the second plane of the day. This one is direct to Dulles from Minneapolis/St. Paul.With two hours of “air time”, a blog is inevitable (and certainly long-overdue.) The liturgy meeting was wonderful, as was seeing folks from my past. (I moved to MN ten years ago to do graduate work and remained until 2002.) There are some people who just embody St. John’s. Catching up with these good people is always a joy. One encounter, though, was not as joyful. I met a woman who I had known just casually ten years ago. She’s living with a stage 4 cancer. I’d know her beautiful face anywhere in spite of her baldness. She’s going without scarf or wig which provides an instant reality check for those who see her. I did what people do. “How are you doing?” She responded, “One day at a time.” I felt my question wholly inadequate, almost intrusive, though that would never be my intent. I will pray for her, without fail. Yet, I feel as if even that lacks something.

I guess we can never know what another person is experiencing - even if it’s someone we love fiercely. Illness can be a hermitage – a lonely place where only GOD can touch the pain – help us navigate this new place of unknowing. When those we love enter this hermitage, all we can do is stand by the door and wait patiently. We can go no farther until we are invited. But once that door is opened from the inside, we can be with them. It won’t mean understanding the spiritual work that is in progress, or taking away the physical burdens that constrain a life that longs to be lived to the full. But we can visit them in the hermitage – listen with the ear of the heart, wipe away the tears or just cry with them, affirm the life force that fuels both the suffering body and the searching soul, and assure them of love which is their present share in the life that never ends. We can do all this and we must. For we who are healthy are blessed by those for whom each breath is gift. We who are healthy forget all too easily how very precious and precarious life is in the body. I hope when it’s my turn to enter the hermitage of illness, someone will love me enough to wait patiently at the door.

Blessings and love to you all…
- Sister Vicki