Our day began with a special Mass with musical accompaniment by staff and students of the St. Francis Music Center. It was an experience that is hard to put into words, but which extracted memories from my younger years and the roots of my faith. As I participated, a feeling resonated in me that my current life, although on a somewhat different spiritual path than that of my childhood, is still filled with the issues of peace and justice I've always held dear. The day awakened in me a new curiosity to explore further some of the roots of my past spiritual journey, continue to assess my current spiritual path, and set sites on where my future faith journey may be heading. I could not do justice to the topic in this blog at this time, so I will leave it at that for the time being.
After Mass, we gathered in the convent dining area for a wonderful meal prepared in the new kitchen made possible by donors like my Mom. On the menu: Baked Chicken, REAL mashed potatoes slathered in butter (with just the right texture to prove they were real), gravy, mixed vegetables, freshly baked featherlight pillow buns that melted in your mouth with each bite, and slabs of homemade apple pie. There was plenty of coffee to wash it down, or for a non-coffee drinker like myself, milk & water. We enjoyed wonderful conversations with our fellow diners, none of whom were known to us previously, but nevertheless, warm connections were made. The table decorations were interesting, each table sporting a different kitchen utensil. This was ours:
A multi-wheel adjustable pasta cutter: that brought forth a few memories and discussions of home baking. How convenient this tool would have been for my mom when she was baking cinnamon pie crust strips or homemade crackers. My dad's cousin would have loved it too, as she lovingly rolled thin-as-paper dough for homemade stroganoff noodles and cut the strips manually.
After lunch, we enjoyed a presentation on the Franciscan Music Center and some very touching stories were shared. We later got a tour of the amazing new kitchen, which I did not have the presence of mind to photograph. Then it was off to the gift store for a couple purchases.
Finally, I was able to refresh some memories of long ago visits to the convent when my great-aunt, Sister Emerita, a Franciscan nun, was still alive. We went to visit her grave for the first time since she was buried there in 1968. Along the stroll to the cemetery, there were a couple areas to rest, the photo below showing my favorite area to repose.
We also met up with some other relatives that belong to the Order of St. Francis. One nun, Sister Mary Ellen, is my dad's first cousin. The other nun, whom I'd never met before, Sister Celine, is my deceased grandpa's first cousin. Between the two of them, one from my paternal Grandpa's side, and one from my paternal Grandma's side, we were able to reminisce about long passed away relatives and I learned much more about my grandparents and great aunt than I ever knew (both of my grandparents passed away in the early sixties, Grandma when I was 2 1/2, and Grandpa when I was 3, and my great aunt just before I turned 8). Both Sisters were thrilled that they each learned more about each side of the family, as well.
Part of my highlight of meeting Sister Celine, who is now 91, was to talk with her about her literary adventure. She, along with her niece, recently (2007) published a book about her life and family, titled: Conversations With Celine. The book talks about living in a large family & farm life in central Minnesota during the first half of the twentieth century, as well as losing the farm during the depression. It also chronicles her life and continuing work and missions she was involved in during her Franciscan journey. Reading the book, I was able to add more dimension to my understanding of that side of my ancestral heritage, which any genealogy lover knows is a huge gift. I learned more about the immigration of my great-great grandfather's family and their early years here (1870s). It was enlightening to learn little tidbits of my grandfather's and great-grandfather's relationships with this part of the family.
Visiting with Sister Celine, I also learned a little about the long writing process for the book, and how much material needed to be cut to make the publishing price manageable. Sister Celine is one of only two relatives still living from that generation. Her older sister is 96, but is suffering from dementia, so Sister Celine is really the only one able to pass on these stories. What a gift she has given to her relatives in writing this book! What hope she gave to me about my own family history projects! If I can complete those, perhaps I can extend my writing to those projects in my dreams.
One of the neatest things about meeting Sister Celine was how young she seemed. At 91, I expected frailness, but what I was greeted with was a small-framed powerhouse. Her energy level was amazing and her mind appeared as clear as a bell. On our long walk to the cemetery, she kept a brisk pace, turning to ask my mom if she was okay. I think my mom was a bit embarrassed, even though she keeps a pretty good pace, herself, for 77. Another highlight is her family resemblance to her cousins, my beloved great aunt (who was somewhat of a surrogate grandmother after my grandparents died) and my grandpa (whom I really only know through photos and stories). I am so thrilled at having this new family connection. As we hugged goodbye, she invited us to please return and once again shared in her delight of meeting once unknown relatives. The delight is definitely reciprocal!
Sister Celine and my Mom
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