Sister Mary Clare

Above the quiet town of Pine, Arizona, perched on the edge of the Mogollon Rim's majestic cliffs, Sister Mary Clare found solace and divine inspiration. The Rim's silence was a stark contrast to the bustling halls of St. Boniface Catholic School in Sioux City, Iowa, where she was about to embark on her journey as a teacher.

Her tent, a simple fabric sanctuary, was pitched amidst the ancient pines, a place for prayer and contemplation. Here, she was far from the lives she would soon shape with her knowledge and faith, yet she felt deeply connected to them in spirit.

As the evening descended, Sister Mary Clare's silhouette was cast in prayer against the canvas. Her rosary, a tangible symbol of her faith, accompanied her through her meditations. The serenity of the wilderness was the perfect backdrop for her to contemplate her new role, to forge the path she would take in her teachings, and to seek guidance for the young souls she would guide.

She thought of her students, of the lessons she would impart, and of the sacred duty she was about to undertake. "When a sacrifice is asked of me," Sister Mary Clare reflected, "I will seek encouragement in the thought of the glorious recompense our divine Savior holds out to me." This retreat was her time to prepare, not just academically, but spiritually, for the vocation that lay ahead.

As the first light of day broke over the Rim, touching the treetops with golden warmth, Sister Mary Clare emerged from her tent. She was ready, her heart full of hope and purpose, to leave the tranquility of the Rim behind and enter the classroom at St. Boniface with the grace and strength she had found in her silent communion with God.

Sunday's Resolution

On the second day of bean walking, the sun rose with the same ferocity as the day before, promising nothing but heat, humidity, and the unwelcome company of sweat bees for Anna, Michael, and Liz. They met at the edge of the soybean fields, their silouettes casting long shadows in the early light, a silent acknowledgment of the day’s toil that lay ahead.

As they walked the familiar rows along the Indian Creek, the air thickened with heat. It wasn't long before the monotony of the task set in, the endless sea of green around them punctuated only by the persistent thrum of insect wings.

It was Liz who broke the rhythm of their silent work. She stooped to clear a clump of weeds and discovered a crumpled, faded piece of paper. "Phyllis," she read aloud, the name written in a hand from a different time. The note, though battered by weather, spoke of love and faith, a timeless message that resonated with the three friends.

Their eyes turned together to the old house that stood guard over the fields. Its windows were broken, a testament to the many storms it had faced. The note must have slipped from one of those forlorn gaps, they reasoned, carried by the wind to land at their feet.

As the day’s work continued, the heat relentless as ever, they found their thoughts returning to Phyllis. Had she, too, felt the oppressive heat as they now did? Had she, too, found comfort in her faith? The connection to the past, to Phyllis, and her note, brought a new dimension to their labor.

When the sun reached its zenith and their shadows shrank beneath them, they found a shared strength. The message on the paper was a balm against the harshness of the day, a reminder that their work in the fields was part of a larger, enduring tapestry of life and faith.

By the time they made their way to the creek for their end-of-day ritual, the water seemed to welcome them more warmly. The note from Phyllis had changed something intangible in the air. They jumped into the creek, not just to find relief from the heat but to honor a tradition of hard work and faith that linked them to the generations before. The water, like the message, was a reminder that even the most grueling tasks could be sanctified by love and the human spirit. 

Resolution: To prove my love for Jesus, I will exercise charity and mildness toward all.

Spiritual Bouquet: "A new commandment I give unto you: that you love one another as I have loved you" (John 13, 34).

Saturday's Resolution

Under the sweltering summer sun of northwest Iowa, near the meandering path of Indian Creek, three teenagers trudged through the dense rows of soybeans. Anna, Michael, and Liz were tasked with pulling the stubborn cockleburs and sunflowers that threatened the crop. The heat was relentless, the humidity clung to them like a second skin, and the persistent buzz of sweat bees was a test of patience.

As they wiped beads of sweat from their brows, Michael grumbled about the never-ending field and the scorching sun above. “This is the worst,” he sighed, tugging at a particularly resistant weed.

Liz, shielding her eyes against the sun’s glare, interjected with a faint smile, “Remember the story from Bishop Barron's Sunday Sermons? About Jesus and the vineyard?”

Anna, who had been silently cursing a sunflower’s deep roots, paused and leaned on her hoe. “How does that help us now?” she asked, skepticism plain in her voice.

Liz continued, undeterred, “Well, Jesus told this parable about workers in a vineyard. No matter what time they started, they got the same reward. It wasn’t about the hours or the heat; it was about answering the call to work, doing something with purpose.”

Michael snorted, “We’re just pulling weeds.”

“But that’s just it,” Liz pressed on. “We’re tending to the earth, caring for the plants that feed us. Maybe we can think of this as our vineyard. We’re called to care for it, and in doing so, maybe we can find some joy, even in the heat and among the sweat bees.”

The three stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the story settling over them. A slight breeze rustled the soybean leaves, and it was as if the field itself was listening.

With a renewed sense of camaraderie, the teenagers resumed their work, the task unchanged but their perspective subtly shifted. The story of the vineyard had taken root in their minds, transforming the mundane into something more meaningful. They joked and laughed, the hours slipping by, and though the heat, humidity, and sweat bees remained, a sense of purpose made the day’s labor feel a little lighter.

Resolution: I will be zealous in the work that I must do remembering the story of the vineyard.

Spiritual Bouquet: Why stand here all day idle? Let us go into the vineyard.

Friday's Resolution

Resolution - I will patiently bear all sufferings of this day in union with Jesus and Mary.

Spiritual Bouquet: "Great as the sea is her sorrow."

Jesus Leaves His Blessed Mother

In the small, sun-drenched town of Nazareth, there was a stirring of tender sorrow in the air, as Mary stood at the threshold of her modest home, her gaze fixed on the dusty road winding out of sight. Jesus, her son, had just taken his leave, his heart set on the journey that lay ahead—a journey of teaching, healing, and ultimately, sacrifice.

Mary's heart was heavy, filled with a mother's love and the foreknowledge of the trials her son would face. She recalled the angel's words, the promise of greatness for her child, yet in this moment, she held onto the image of Jesus, not as the savior of humanity, but as her little boy, whose tiny hands had once clung to hers.

As Jesus disappeared from view, Mary's eyes mirrored the deep well of human emotion—a mixture of pride, fear, and overwhelming love. She turned back into the solitude of her home, her faith a comforting shawl around her shoulders, but her human heart couldn't escape the sharp pangs of separation.

The days that followed were silent witnesses to Mary's quiet strength. She went about her work with a serene grace, but her prayers were fervent, seeking solace and protection for her beloved son. Mary's sorrow was a silent river that flowed through the daily rhythms of life in Nazareth, a testament to the bond between mother and child—a bond not even destiny could sever.

In the stillness of the night, when the world lay sleeping, Mary's thoughts would wander to Jesus, imagining the places he walked and the faces he touched. And in the solitude of her heart, she held an unwavering hope, a beacon that would guide her through the days of waiting until his return.

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Thursday's Resolution

St. Paul's Conversion

Resolution - We will follow every inspiration of grace with utmost fidelity and immolation of self.

Spiritual Bouquet - "Lord, why wilt Thou have me do?"

 

Once, on a dusty road to Damascus, a man named Saul traveled with a heart full of fury. His mission was clear: to find and punish those who followed Jesus of Nazareth. Saul, a devout Pharisee, believed fervently in the traditions of his ancestors and saw this new sect as a threat to the Jewish faith.

As he journeyed, the air shimmered with the heat of the midday sun. Suddenly, a blinding light from the heavens enveloped Saul. He fell to the ground, disoriented and afraid. From the brilliance came a voice that echoed through the very core of his being, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

Trembling, Saul cried out, “Who are you, Lord?”

The voice replied, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.”

In that moment, Saul’s world shattered. The very foundation of his beliefs, his purpose, and his identity were challenged. Blinded by the light, he was led by his companions into Damascus, where he remained in deep contemplation for three days, neither eating nor drinking.

In Damascus, a disciple named Ananias received a vision from the Lord instructing him to visit Saul. Despite his fear of Saul’s reputation, Ananias obeyed. He found Saul, laid his hands upon him, and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on the road, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.”

Instantly, something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and his sight was restored. He arose, baptized into a new life, transformed in spirit and purpose. Saul, who was also known as Paul, became one of the most passionate and influential apostles of Jesus Christ. He traveled far and wide, enduring hardships and persecution, to spread the message of the Gospel.

From a fervent persecutor to a devoted apostle, Paul’s conversion was a testament to the power of faith and the transformative grace of God. His journey reminds us that even the hardest of hearts can be softened and that anyone, no matter their past, can become a vessel of divine love and truth.

Wednesday's Resolution

The  Obedience of Jesus in Hidden Life

Resolution - In all my actions I will unite myself with my Divine Model..

Spiritual Bouquet - "He did all things well."

Affectios:

 

How trifling, O Jesus, according to worldly standards, was the labor of Thy youth in the little workshop at Nazareth! How great was it, however in the sight of the heavenly Father, and to the eyes of faith of all who ponder upon Thy unobtrusive activity! Deeply touch by contemplation of the hard labor which Thou, O Jesus, as a carpenter didst perform in the sweat of Thy face, my will urged by Thy example, must make the resolution to imitate Thee, and joyfully to bear the burden and heat of the day. Teach me, O Lord, to be great in the eyes for Thy heavenly Father by the purity and sublimity of my intentions, that I may achieve the aim towards which my works should tend.

Tuesday's Resolution

The  Obedience of Jesus in Hidden Life

Resolution - In all my actions I will unite myself with the obedience of Jesus.

Spiritual Bouquet - "He was subject to them."

Affections

 

The Eternal Word of God, the Supreme Wisdom, the Creator and Lord of all things, to Whom everything owes submission, renders obedience to His creatures, allows Himself to be guided and led like a child which is not yet capable of guiding itself. With loving cheerfulness He hastens to carry out what Mary and Joseph commission; He even forestalls their wishes and this not only as long as He is a child, but even, still, when He has reached manhood. One easily perceives that it is His Heart which obeys and that, in whatever He does, He is motivated by love. 

O my Jesus, I thank Thee for the sublime example Thou hast given me by Thy humble obedience. Amen.