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Pray without Ceasing: A Way of Being

Being a Benedictine oblate is a way of life. Oblates desire to live as monks in the world, seeking God by recognizing the sacred in their everyday life, in their family, and in their workplace. Being part of a community of monks and oblates is a source of learning and support for our spiritual journey.

On the second Saturday of each month, the oblates of Christ the King Priory, the monastery I am an oblate of, gather to learn more about the Rule of St. Benedict. Our day includes morning prayer, monastery news, Lectio Divina, Mass, midday prayer, lunch, reading the Rule of St. Benedict, and small-group discussions of a selected book.

Prayer is the foundation of Benedictine spirituality. In August, we focused on Ways to Pray (Chapter 5) in the book Saint Benedict on the Freeway: A Rule of Life for the 21st Century by Corinne Ware. Benedict wrote in the Prologue of the Rule— “First of all, every time you begin a good work, you must pray to him most earnestly to bring it to perfection.” In the Apostle Paul’s letter to Thessalonica, he instructed the new church community to “Pray without ceasing.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17)

But what is prayer? And how is it possible to always be praying?

A friend recently asked me how I prayed, especially for others. So often we think that prayer means choosing the right words to speak to God, and that somehow, if we find those magic words, prayer might work “better”. We will get what we prayed for. Many believe that the purpose of prayer is to express what we desire—and that the right words might bring about the reality we hope for. But prayer is i much more than words or being attached to a specific, longed-for outcome.

The definition of prayer must be reimagined. There are many ways to pray, and it is possible to pray without ceasing. “Prayer is not so much our words to God as our life in God.” (Unknown author quoted by Caroline Myss) Reflecting on the chapter, I created a list of what prayer is:

Continue reading “Pray without Ceasing: A Way of Being” →
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Announcing an International Traveling Benedictine Art Exhibit

“Looking at art is one way of listening to God.”

Sister Wendy Beckett, A Child’s Book of Prayer in Art

Listen, the first word in the Rule of St. Benedict, is the source of all creativity. Before the first word of a poem or essay can be written or a stroke of a paintbrush can be made, one must listen to self, soul, and the Divine. From listening, a flash of insight may strike, an idea bubbles up…

Life Through A Different Lens, an international traveling Benedictine art exhibit, is an idea that came from the deep soul-listening of Benedictine Oblates Linda Mingos (Benedictine Sisters of Virginia) and Kent Onah (Ewu Monastery, Nigeria).

The vision of Life Through a Different Lens is to celebrate “the light and grace of God, alive in the Rule of St. Benedict, illuminated through time, and reflected in every race and culture throughout the world today.”  Our hope is to communicate the importance of Benedictine spirituality and monasticism through art and creativity.

Each creative piece in the traveling exhibit—a reflection, poem, or visual art—will reflect the Benedictine way of life through the charisms of the Rule of Benedict within the artist’s current culture and society. Visual art, poems, reflections, and more can illuminate the values of hospitality, community, justice, listening, humility, silence, prayer, and work, to name a few.

We are seeking individuals who create (artists and writers), monasteries in the United States and Africa, where the artwork can reside for three months before it moves to its next location, and financial sponsors, to help make all this happen in 2027. An exhibit catalog of all art and creative work, and a companion study guide for personal reflection or small-group discussion, will accompany the traveling exhibit.

Capturing our creativity through art is both prayer and work. And for those who will see it, like viewing art in a museum or reading a good book, listening to the message or intent of the artist can be a spiritual practice. Both creativity and listening are ways to pray.  

Our first planned exhibition site and opening ceremony will be held at the Ewu Monastery in Nigeria, the birthplace of monasticism in the prayer and work of desert mothers and fathers of the desert of Africa. If you would like to be a part of Life Through A Different Lens, we would love to hear from you.

“All art is a terrific bridge…Music, paintings, words, they really do speak to the soul, to the heart, to the spirit…” 

-Julia Cameron

Artwork will be juried for admission into the exhibit. See submission examples below. If you would like to learn more about this project, please email mingoslindaj@gmail.com. Your response should include: your name, email address, the name of your monastery, the country in which you live, and the language you speak.

Some guidelines:

  • Artwork size 2’ x 3’ minimum, 3’x 4’ maximum, shipped ready to hang.
  • Written work should not exceed 500 words single-spaced or 250-300 words double-spaced, 12 pt font, 1” margins.
  • Submissions accepted from committed or professed Benedictines, monks or oblates.

Submission Examples

Reflection Submission—From Cave to Community by Linda Land-Closson, Oblate Benet Hill Monastery, Colorado Springs, Colorado

Benedict of Nursia: born in Rome four short years after the fall of the western roman empire, an aristocrat in a crumbling world. so much to lose. more to fear. yet tethered to Scholastica, the one with whom he shared a womb.

He fled that world at 20 or so and retreated to a cave. I get that. In my bones. I get that urge to escape what a collapsing empire feels like: the power-grabbing, the unfettered egos, the lies, manipulation, violence. the fear-based finger pointing, gaslighting, and scapegoating: all slung about as distractions, magic sleight-of-hand, them-Them-THEM…not-us. I’d return to the womb if I could. a cave—any cave—will do.

Run away. oh, how I want to run away! how I want to lock myself in a room and have a Veruca-Salt-sized temper tantrum: “I want the world to go away, Daddy, and I want that now!”

Three years of solitude sounds about right. three years of praying, of silence, of only-enough-human-contact-to-resupply and nothing more. Three years of not listening to news and fake news and fake news about fake news, of not hearing the voices of those with the power to be heard above the din of oppression and social decay. Maybe it will all be over in three years.

Three years did something for Benedict. He came out of his cave, out of his solitude, and he wrote about community. He wrote for community because community becomes resistance when the Sirens of despair call. Who knows what Benedict riddled for three years, but he realized community was the answer, the answer to power-over, the answer to ego and to malaise, the answer to anger, the answer to our feigned independence. His life began by sharing the most intimate of spaces with another person, after all.

Community is the Way, Love-centered, God-centered community. This is where we find forgiveness-grace-mercy, sometimes for the first time. Where we find ourselves, usually for the first time. and somewhere, sometime, somehow, this is where we find forgiveness-grace-mercy for the Other. over and over, knitted into benign and seemingly meaningless moments, words, and actions. Community finds us and we find the Other. We find that both—that all—contain the divine spark.

Visual Art Submission—Oil on Canvas by Linda Mingos, Oblate, Benedictine Sisters of Virginia, Bristow, Virginia

Poetry Submission—The Smiling Heart Serves by Mike Gurak, Benedictine Sisters of Virginia, Bristow, Virginia

“Can I help”, not “Let me help”
“Can I” is freely accepted or declined
“Do you need any help bringing that in?”
“I’m heading to the store quick
Is there anything you need while I’m out?”
“I’m making chicken for supper tomorrow
Would you like some?”
The best service comes from anticipating someone’s needs
And then offering to help
“Service with a smile” as they say
That smile is an outward reflection of a smiling heart
It’s a willingness to help others
Not for reward, not for recognition
But simply because it feels good
The world says look out for number one
Service says we can do this together
It’s a connection that can’t be described by mere words
True service enriches both people

© Jodi Blazek Gehr, Being Benedictine Blogger

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How To Bear Discomfort Well

I do not bear discomfort well, I said, half-seriously, half-jokingly, to my son-in-law, John, the other day, as I took a little longer to get out of the car than the rest of the family. We both laughed as John noted that his wife shares this same trait at times. Like mother, like daughter.

It was a cold day in Nebraska, so we had to bundle up to go out, but once we were in the car, and the heat kicked in, I broke out into a sweat. Struggling in the back seat, off comes the coat. Two minutes later, we arrived at our destination. I wrestled my coat back on to re-enter the frigid temperatures. (An aside: Nebraska weather is a burden of extremes, from hot to cold. Our low temperature today is 12 degrees; on Saturday, 89 degrees is forecasted—how is one to cope?)

To add to my discomfort, several weeks ago, I sprained the peroneal tendons in my right foot. I will spare you the details, but it is reminiscent of the broken arm I experienced three years ago. Let’s just say—it adds to my discomfort, and I repeat, I don’t bear discomfort well. I feel a little guilty (and more discomfort) about admitting this out loud to John and writing it now. There are so many people suffering throughout the world—from war, displacement, poverty, hunger, trauma, poor health, grief, and every imaginable and unimaginable discomfort.

It is a lot for each of us to bear—our own discomfort and the wounds of the world that we also carry in our thoughts, physical bodies, emotional responses, and spirits. So much discomfort, uncertainty, ambiguity, and waiting can make us irritable and impatient—and there is so much to activate our discontent these days.

Recently, on my Being Benedictine Facebook page, I shared some wisdom from Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. Within 24 hours, the post had 130 times the average likes, comments, and views of a typical post.

This idea of waiting, and the discomfort that results, seems to resonate with many these days. It is increasingly challenging to “trust in the slow work of God,” and we need constant reminders that this is how we must cope.

Continue reading “How To Bear Discomfort Well” →
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Light (and Darkness): 2025 Word of the Year in Review

It is good to remember that light and darkness cannot be separated. There is always a little glimpse of the other.

When life runs like a well-oiled machine, and things are going our way, confidence is high, and joy is palpable. It is then that we begin to feel invincible—that this good fortune is what we deserve. When the inevitable challenges, losses, or setbacks come, we feel the wind knocked out of our sails.

On the other hand, to succumb to darkness, despair, or hopelessness is to snuff out the candle of hope that we must cling to, or what is this all for?  Being Benedictine means holding both/and—seeking the light while also honoring and learning from the darkness.

“When we come to understand that everything in our world, including its darker aspects, derives from God, we begin to realize that much of what we perceive as “bad” is, from the divine perspective, simply another piece of the sacred whole…that which appears as darkness to us may very well be the beacon to our redemption.” -Niles Elliot Goldstein, God at the Edge

My guiding star, my 2025 Word of the Year, LIGHT, has helped me embrace this yin/yang reality in my life and the world.

“Life is a balance between what we can control and what we can’t. You must learn to live comfortably between effort and surrender.” -Danielle Orner  Steph Edwards @toyoufromsteph

It is no secret that 2025 has been a tough year. We knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it has felt more…well, just more than we could have imagined. (See truth-tellers like Heather Cox Richardson, Robert Reich, Rebecca Solnit, Parker Palmer, and Pope Leo who shine their light into the darkness of a threatened democracy, giving hope to those marginalized and suffering around the world. I have shared my truth on these matters here: Be The Light: A 4th of July Message.)

Personally, we started 2025 with unexpected news, challenges, and worries about family and friends. We lost Joe’s brother, Steve, in a tragic accident, but were comforted that two successful transplant surgeries resulted from his donated organs.

More here–Remembering Steven Gehr: OK. I know. Good. OK.

I missed my teacher colleagues in my first full year of retirement, but had more time for reading and writing, coffee and lunch dates, book discussions, and binge-watching Outlander. I attended the Okoboji Writers Retreat, led two SoulFully You retreats, and collaborated on another.

Continue reading “Light (and Darkness): 2025 Word of the Year in Review” →
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O Antiphons: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!

The traditional Advent hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” which many are familiar with, is a paraphrase of the lesser-known O Antiphons written by Benedictine monks in the Middle Ages. One of the oldest liturgical rituals in the Church, the O Antiphons have been sung since at least the 8th century. These short prayers, starting with O followed by a title given to the Messiah from Old Testament prophecies, are sung before the Magnificat during Evening Prayer from December 17–23, the last seven days before Christmas. Each antiphon describes God in terms of Old Testament traits and images.

Images and symbols that appear in dreams, art, literature, or scripture carry both personal and universal meaning. Serving as a bridge between the unconscious and the conscious, images can nourish our spirit. “Images open windows through which we can see realities formerly hidden from us. Images want to infuse themselves into us and to change us from the inside out, ” writes Anselm Grün.

Images are an essential part of rituals, prayer, self-reflection, and creativity. When practicing SoulCollage®, one of my favorite spiritual practices, images can guide us to a new level of awareness and reveal a deeper understanding of thought and feeling. Perhaps this is what attracts me to the tradition of praying the O Antiphons.


“Reflecting on the words and images prepares us to let Christ himself enter into us…We are all an image, an icon, of God. It is our task to become ever more like this unique image of God.”

Anselm Grün, A Time of Fulfillment: Spiritual Reflections for Advent and Christmas

The O Antiphons use images to help us envision the Christ we long for, and to draw us into a more profound connection to the God of history. “In the O-Antiphons the art of interpreting Old Testament text as images for the coming of Jesus Christ into the world becomes apparent.” (Anselm Grün) The repeated word “Come!” expresses our deepest longing for Christ. When we accept that we are not God, we yearn for fulfillment, for all that a Messiah can bring, not just in the hereafter but in the here and now. We long for wisdom, freedom, hope, peace, belonging, light, healing, salvation, dignity, protection, love, and accompaniment. Each of these longings is addressed in the O Antiphons.

For an extensive examination of our longings and the use of images in praying the O Antiphons, I highly recommend A Time of Fulfillment by Anselm Grün, a Benedictine monk from Münsterschwarzach Abbey, the motherhouse of the monastery of which I am an oblate.

Feel free to download and share any of the images in this reflection, or follow Being Benedictine on Facebook to share daily posts. Join the monks of St. John’s Abbey for each of the O Antiphons as Benedictine monks have done for 1300 years.

St. John’s Abbey sings O Antiphons: Holy Wisdom—

December 17th – O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
December 18th – O Adonai (O Lord)
Continue reading “O Antiphons: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!” →
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Curiosity is good for the soul, and for democracy too!

Cultivating curiosity is Being Benedictine.

As an educator and lover of learning, I appreciate the reference to schools in the Rule of St. Benedict. In the Prologue of The Rule, Benedict writes that the monastery is “a school for God’s service.” Whether in the monastery, home, or work—we are learning to live and love in community. Our life is a school of becoming—a continual learning.

Learning does not happen in solitude.

“A school is a community of learners: a group that comes together to learn with and from each other…education should expand our consciousness, capabilities, sensitivities, and cultural understanding. It should enlarge our worldview.”  –What Is Education For? by Sir Ken Robinson and Kate Robinson, Edutopia, March 2, 2022.

As a teacher, whether it was my high school students or those who attend retreats I lead, I appreciate a curious learner—someone who is open to new ideas, willing to listen, to question, to consider diverse perspectives, and, with humility, understand that there is always something new to learn.

Curiosity is a good first step toward living SoulFully and being Benedictine.

Being Benedictine, in my experience, is a genuine attempt to meet others in love and compassion, listening with the intent to understand, encouraging inclusiveness, and respecting diversity.  It is a blessing to share our feelings, faith, or perspectives and to have someone truly listen, especially those who might believe differently. Listening is the doorway to learning from others and growing in compassion; curiosity is the key.

“The spiritual life takes discipline,” Joan Chittister writes in The Rule of St. Benedict, A Spirituality for the 21st Century. “It is something learned, to be internalized. It’s not a set of daily exercises; it’s a way of life, an attitude of mind, an orientation of soul. And it is gotten by being schooled until no rules are necessary.”

Curiosity is good for the soul.

In Women Who Runs with the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, defines the wild woman archetype as one who listens deeply, is intuitive, creative, playful, courageous, curious, loyal, and passionate. There is some wildness of divinity in us all, calling us to live fully, to reach beyond ourselves and, to discover something new. “When you limit your life to the one frame of thinking, you close out the mystery,” writes John O’ Donohue in Eternal Echoes: Celtic Reflections on Our Yearning to Belong.

Curiosity is good for community. Wonder is good for the world.

Wonder, my 2023 word of the year, is an attitude of curiosity, a willingness to withhold judgment, and to be open to what happens. Dacher Keltner in Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life writes, “People who find more everyday awe show evidence of living with wonder. They are more open to new ideas. To what is unknown. To what language can’t describe…to the strengths and virtues of other people.”  

Is it possible to behold our neighbor with wonder, in the spirit of hospitality? Could we hold a curious heart even when we passionately disagree with one another? Rather than defaulting to the shoulds and should-nots of orthodoxy, or a deeply held conviction, could we practice curiosity instead? Rather than seeking to change another’s opinion or defend our own, could we simply stand in awe of this great universe that holds such diversity of thought? Is it possible to let a disagreement stand to the side, while the desire to learn about the other steps forward?

Curiosity leads to wonder. Wonder leaves room for the unexpected, for learning something new.

This is how Lectio Divina, the Benedictine practice of sacred reading, can work in community. We hear different perspectives, drawing on the experiences and insights of those in our community. We can release the need for the one right way to interpret what we read and be curious about what others bring to the table. I share reflections from the richness of our oblate community discussions on this website but with a disclaimer,

“I cannot claim to have captured all the wisdom shared in our monthly oblate discussions or that I represent all oblates in attendance. The group discussion is a starting point for this reflection, but it is my interpretation of what I heard and what resonated with me. There could easily be as many different blog posts or reflections as oblates. Each of us comes to Lectio from our personal experience of God at that moment and we receive what we need in that moment as well. The beauty of Lectio Divina is that the reading, insights, and discussion may fall differently on each of our hearts. How blessed we are that there are “many dwelling places” (John 14:2)” and we are all invited to “listen with the ear of the heart.” (RB Prologue)”

Curiosity is good for democracy.

In Healing the Heart of Democracy: The Courage to Create a Politics Worthy of the Human Spirit, Parker Palmer encourages us to consider “What do I have in common with people who, for example, regard their religious or political convictions as so authoritative that they feel no need to listen to anyone who sees things differently—especially that small subgroup of extremists who would use violence to advance their views?”

This can be difficult. I get it. I know too well how disagreements can escalate, and how estrangements result. I have appreciated discussions where curiosity is a motivation to more deeply understand, but I also know the heartbreak of rejection when another is not interested in my story, feelings, or perspective. The door is slammed shut for exploring possibilities, another proclaims they know what they know and there is no need to share ideas or learn something new. But I believe for many situations curiosity, wonder, listening, and a little respect could be the remedy. It may not change minds or beliefs, but it can change hearts. I believe, as Palmer does, that I can find even “the smallest patch of common ground” with others whose views are different than mine. I can disagree with another while also being Benedictine.

Continue reading “Curiosity is good for the soul, and for democracy too!” →
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Is Barbie Being Benedictine?

Barbie is a big deal. The smash-hit movie “Barbie” has reached the coveted billion-dollar mark at the global box office and its director, Greta Gerwig, had the highest-grossing opening weekend ever for a film directed by a woman. Millions of women—from 20 something to 70 something—have donned pink attire with their besties or their daughters—and headed to the theatres for pre-movie selfies and a trip down memory lane.

Barbie is a big deal. And, yes, even some guys have gone to the movie and enjoyed it! Every major newspaper, magazine, and news organization has weighed in on a variety of Barbie themes from feminism, patriarchy and consumerism to mother-daughter relationships, authenticity, and existentialism. Since I saw Barbie with one of my besties, Katie, a few weeks ago, I have read dozens of commentaries on the film. One’s reaction to the movie, or, for that matter, any cultural, social, or political phenomenon, cannot be separated from our own interests, values, biases, and experiences.

My experience includes fond memories of playing with my Barbie dolls–selecting special clothes my parents told me Mrs. Clause had personally tailored, organizing my wardrobe suitcase and setting up camp with a Barbie drive-camper. My daughter celebrated a Barbie-themed birthday, loved her Pepto-Bismol pink bedroom with Barbie comforter and curtains, and had all the Barbie things, even a lunchbox. Barbie captured the imaginations of little girls, and when they became mothers, their little girls enjoyed them as well.

“We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back to see how far they have come,” the spirit of Handler, the inventor of Barbie, said to Barbie, played by Margot Robbie, in the film.

I absolutely loved the movie--from the set and costume design (I mean, a life-sized Barbie house!), the special effects, the song selections and dancing, the clever comedy/satire, the Birkenstocks and the many feminist themes that elevated the movie to one for serious discussion. Katie, and I shared laughs and tears, many de-briefing conversations, and a commitment to see the movie again. My one wish–that I can also see it with my daughter someday.

Oh, you know I created more than one! lol….for both myself and my daughter Jessica. You can create your own selfie here. https://www.barbieselfie.ai/step/1-upload/

But, this is what I have been considering: Is Barbie being Benedictine? Yes! I see a few themes in the Barbie movie that provide a glimpse of what it means to be Benedictine.

Barbie considers her death.

Early in the movie, Barbie asks her friends, “Do you guys ever think about dying?” This existential question is the impetus for Barbie’s (s)hero’s journey, one of curiosity, self-discovery, and transformation, depicted in religious literature, myths, and poetry since the beginning of storytelling. When Barbie’s perfect plastic curves are met with the disappointment of flat feet, cellulite, and clumsy accidents, she attempts to restore the status quo. She experiences a “dark night of the soul,” desperate only for life to go back to the way it was (as she lies face down, in humility, pining for untroubled times.)

When faced with our own mortality, we come face-to-face with the certain uncertainty of our lives. When Barbie adventures into the Real World, where events are not contrived, she is faced with the purpose and meaning of her life, eyes opened to embracing both joy and suffering, aging and death.

St. Benedict advises in his Rule, to “Keep death daily before your eyes.” These thoughts of death make Barbie more human, real, authentic—once she realizes her own mortality, she cannot unsee it. Her old life has gone, and a new way must be birthed. Barbie is becoming.

Barbie listens.

In one of the most poignant scenes in the film, Barbie is overwhelmed with the stimuli of the Real World. She pauses to sit down on a bench to consider her next steps. This act of pausing to contemplate is the epitome of being Benedictine.

Continue reading “Is Barbie Being Benedictine?” →
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From Dumpsite to Daffodils

One of my favorite places to visit is a former dump site. 

Despite its location on the corner of a very busy intersection in Lincoln, a former landfill is now a sanctuary with thousands of flowers planted on its one-and-a-half acres. The iconic Sunken Gardens, perfect for wandering, contemplation, and enjoying the beauty of nature, has a healing garden, stunning sculptures, a cascading fountain, and open lawn spaces. Through the years, the gardens have been a special venue for weddings (although brides and grooms must be prepared for cars honking as they drive by), art shows, family picnics, contemplative walks, a quiet place to read, photography, or friendly conversations.

On one of our many sightseeing or historical tours of Lincoln as a child, my dad shared that the gardens had originally been a dump. Amazed, I couldn’t imagine how that kind of transformation could take place. In 1930, as part of a depression-era city program to help unemployed men earn a little cash, the idea of Sunken Gardens was birthed. Crew members worked eight-hour shifts, two days a week for a total of $6.40 per week. Through the years, the gardens have been improved and renovated, most recently in 2005 with a $1.7 million fundraising campaign. I am so grateful for that vision and the continued effort of volunteers to create something of such beauty from trash. 

Sunken Gardens is often a specific destination for me but if I happen to be driving nearby, I might make a spontaneous visit. Recently, I had a few minutes after an appointment, and knowing the tulips and other bulb flowers wouldn’t last much longer, I drove a little out of my way to visit. It was a soulful, wonder-full fifteen minutes of enjoying the fleeting blooms. Finding wonder in nature is a path to practicing contemplation and observing silence. 

St. Benedict invites us to “listen with the ear of the heart” (Rule of St. Benedict, Prologue:1).

“This calls for a contemplative stance, an ability to experience wonder and joy in nature. It can also prompt me to ask: when was the last time I really saw the swift flight of a bird, the delicate beauty of rose petals?? Rather than trying to fill every moment with sound and distraction, the Benedictine way of life is characterized by peace and silence. Benedict instructs his followers to “diligently cultivate silence” (Rule of St. Benedict, 42:1)

—Common threads: Francis’ encyclical and Benedict’s rule, By Mary McDonald SGS

I considered this dump-turned-garden as the ultimate metaphor for transformation. Truly, all things can be transformed, and have the potential to be created anew, in our planet, in ourselves, and in relationships.

God did not create creation light years ago, he continually maintains it in existence. God is constantly in the very act of creating. He fills us with his Spirit of creativity so that we can transform the world according to his creative will. –Anselm Grün OSB, Benedict and Creation

To be Benedictine is to be open to conversion within ourselves, with people we might disagree with, or in protecting our environment. We allow for the possibility of reconciliation, and restoration of how things could be at their fullest potential. Just as creation is constantly creating and evolving, so must we. We must adapt and change to the environment we are living in by not taking too much or giving too little. Enjoying nature, being in the present moment, and nurturing silence that brings creative thought is the call of Being Benedictine.

© Jodi Blazek Gehr, Being Benedictine Blogger

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The Wonder of a Broken Arm

WONDER sees the everyday as sacred.

Living with a sense of wonder, my word for 2023, is my intention. Being open to surprises, having a sense of curiosity, and having the desire to learn is important to my spiritual practice of “being Benedictine.” Wonder sees the sacred in the ordinary and is a doorway to gratitude, but seeing with eyes of wonder is a much easier proposition when our daily life is comfortable. My sense of comfort was recently challenged.

On a cold, windy February morning, my little dog Bailey did not want to do her business outside. Fourteen degrees in Nebraska, who can blame her? Worried about potentially icy roads and getting myself to school in time, I hurriedly picked up my little dog and headed out to accompany her on a potty trip. After stepping down onto our (apparently icy) landing, my feet slipped out from underneath me. It happened so fast yet every second my body met the icy ground, pain pierced through me–first on my bottom, then as I slid to my left side hitting my elbow sharply. I felt several crunches on my arm as I continued sliding on the pavement finally stopping several feet away. 

I knew immediately I had broken my arm, and later it was confirmed–a fractured ulna and a chipped elbow. The entire event was captured on our doorbell video. I watched it only one time to see if it was as I had remembered. Seeing myself fall has ruined me forever from watching America’s Funniest Home Videos again. Falls that used to crack me up (no pun intended) seem not so funny anymore. 

Wonder is the doorway to gratitude.

Making meaning out of life’s experiences and practicing gratitude is foundational to my spirituality, but much of my broken arm experience (7 weeks to date) has been spent feeling like I am not being very Benedictine. I am grateful for much, but I have also been so tired, irritable, and moody. It has been more traumatic for my body, mind, and spirit than I could have imagined. 

Despite my general crabbiness, I know my injury could have been worse–for that I am grateful. Thank God I hadn’t hit my head and been knocked unconscious. I am grateful that it was my left arm that was broken, and not my dominant right. After a week of wearing a splint, I was grateful to learn that the fractured pieces of my ulna had, amazingly, stayed in alignment. I would not need surgery and instead of needing a cast, I would wear a brace that I could easily remove to shower. A welcome reprieve from the confinement of a splint, there would be enough space to wiggle a pencil through to scratch my arm. (More things to be grateful for at the end of this post.)

Gratitude is an emotion that reflects our deep appreciation for what we value, what brings meaning to our lives, and what makes us feel connected to ourselves and others.

Atlas of the Heart, Brene Brown

I thought my attitude of gratitude would carry me through the weeks of convalescence in front of me, but I underestimated the many conflicting emotions I would have–frustration, overwhelm, disappointment, empathy, compassion, and wonder, just to mention a few. Out of 87 identified emotions (and experiences or thoughts that can lead to emotions) in Atlas of the Heart by Brene Brown, I have felt no less than 40 of them since I fell. 

Early on I had decided I would be a resilient, strong, and compliant patient. I would remain calm in the face of discomfort or pain, knowing “this too shall pass.” Spoiler alert: I have grown weary, increasingly frustrated, and borderline hysterical from the discomfort and/or pain. Betty the brace–named after my strong, steady, prayerful oblate friend, Betty–has been called many other names besides Betty (Betty, the friend, took no offense.) 

Continue reading “The Wonder of a Broken Arm” →
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