Posts by Sr. Mary Valerie Schneider

It’s jubilee time in the convent, and there’s so much to celebrate! We have jubilarians of joy professed 75 years ago. They have been a joy to us and to those to whom they ministered.  We have iron jubilarians professed 65 years ago. They are still giving their firstfruits, while anticipating the final harvest already…

The challenge of the Christian life is to become steeped in God. The method: I the water and God the tea bag. That sounds odd, for Jesus spoke of himself as living water. But I would have no power to change clear water into green tea. God is the One who can transform me. I…

Thank you, God, for buzzing things, For humming things, for chirping things, For crocuses, first cheery signs of spring. For irises purpling the drive, For perennials on cue opening wide, For colors that flaunt in unabashed pride, For strawberries scenting the sky, For vines that furtively pry, For white daffodils so shy, For the daisy,…

Who am I to have a thought Or say a prayer Or claim a place in this pond? And yet I sense that everything I do Is more than me. Somehow I’m part of a cosmic plan Immensely greater than I but dependent upon me. Someone is thinking of me now, Someone who created me,…

 Bobbing in the breeze, miniature pansies begged, like baby robins. When I didn’t water them, their faces became question marks—two dozen questions without answers. When I walked down the path, I thought of the answer Jesus may have given: “Or take the lilies; they do not spin, they do not weave; but I tell you,…

The flower garden’s dainty carpeting of Sweet Woodruff had wandered a few inches to introduce itself to the grass. Hostas were performing acrobatic acts upon their slender stalks. The auricular seemed to form their own garden club with the Snow Lady calling the meeting to order. The poppy mallows reveled in the sun. Pink turtlehead…

As a liturgist/musician I participate in nearly every act of worship in the parish. This should make me holy, don’t you think? But it doesn’t seem to be working that way. The liturgy can easily wash over me without my participating in the reality. Ron Rolheiser writes: “We participate in Jesus’ sacrifice when we, like…

I’ve walked through gardens where the owners named every plant, and I’ve walked through woods with persons who could name the wildflowers and identify the trees. I’ve read books on flowers classified with phylum, genus, and species. The naming indicates an ownership that escapes those who can only point to plants and say, “I wonder…

Tiny purple spears stood erect, their heads strained in one direction, as if intently listening. The Mother of Thyme had called a convocation.  The sight reminded me of the Church, an assembly called into being on the cross and the primary place where we meet Christ. It is in the assembly that we know who…

Having just finished flowering, the forsythia heard flattering remarks. A child said, “Mommy, look at the little yellow bells.” The botanist said, “This is a decorative genus of the olive family.” Passers-by remarked, “Look at the forsythia, a sure sign that spring is here!”  But then the forsythia heard ominous words: “It’s time to prune.”…