September 27, 2012
The gifts which she brought to Wrentham were, among others, wit and determination, courage, energy, enthusiasm, and a deep love for the Holy Trinity and the Father from whom all creative goodness flows. Wrentham made its first foundation in Iowa, and its second in Arizona. Did I say something about enthusiasm? For this foundation, Clare accompanied Mother Angela on a visit to scout out property. Then, first of the foremost, she volunteered to become a foundress. “I want it for God,” she assured us, lest we think she was just interested in doing something new.
Let me tell you, the life of a foundress is no pleasant excursion. The vista from our hill is breathtaking. But living for a long time in very cramped quarters, struggling with new ways of making a living, coming to terms with weather and wildlife, living very intimately with oneself and all its revelations of weakness and incompletion is no joke. New people coming and going, short funds, fatigue—foundations are a shortcut, either to despair or to human and spiritual maturity. Take your choice. Clare did. Her wit was a mainstay of the community, as well as her ability to take on any challenge, and her sturdy tread along the monastic way.
Ten years ago, we celebrated fifty years since she had made her first vows at Wrentham. This year her road has been lengthened to sixty. She has a tremendous love for her family, and most of them could come to this great landmark of her life. Her younger sister was unable to be here, since her husband is slowly on his way to God in a species of ALS. But we were delighted to welcome six of the clan. At the Mass, her brother Joe read from St Paul in a way that Paul would surely have approved of.
Vicki bought and arranged a symphony of white glads, mums, and baby’s breath for a sanctuary bouquet. The refectory was a picture, its tables white with covers we (AHEM!) got at the dollar store, and small pots of small mums in a variety of colors. The theme was butterflies, because the sight of a new life emerging from dead leaves as she sat in the woods at Wrentham years ago, has remained one of the most meaningful events of her monastic life. Cathy constructed an exquisite butterfly from two coat hangers and multi-colored cellophane—AND some adorable angels out of the gloves we wear at Altar Breads.
As we do on feasts and celebrations, each of the sisters made her own card for Clare, and over these she cried tears of gratitude and joy.
Fr John Denburger had been with us since (I think) July, and celebrated the Jubilee Mass before his departure. We miss him very much.
And so September went out in our own kind of glory. It has given us the crisp air and promise of autumn in the Southwest, which bears very little resemblance to the glory of the northeast, with its wonderful trees, but lifts our hearts into contemplation of winter mysteries of the Advent–Christmas cycle, the challenges of a new year and an intensification of the wonders of the ordinary in our life of prayer.
We have passed peacefully through our transition to a new prioress, Sr Victoria, and a shuffling of monastic jobs, while working on a new website with professionals in town, and weathering a series of individual health issues which now promise to fade into history. It’s amazing how these painful episodes turn themselves inside out to reveal the graceful hand of God in our lives. Grace upon grace upon grace.