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Go deeper

At one point this past week I had the thought, a typical one for me toward the end of Lent, I would like to start Lent over, or I could have done more. But, here we are at Palm Sunday and the beginning of Holy Week. It’s the most solemn and holy week of the liturgical year and gives us the opportunity to enter more deeply into the mysteries of our faith.

Whatever we did, or didn’t do as well as we would have liked, our Lenten practices of increased prayer and devotion, fasting and sharing our resources with those in need, aren’t something that have to stop after Easter next weekend. I might not choose to be as rigorous with fasting and some of the extra devotions, like Stations of the Cross, that may no longer be offered in our parishes, but there are opportunities to continue to let these daily practices open my heart to God and consider the attachments in my life that are a hinderance in my relationship with God.

The Lenten practices that we chose have the intention of clearing away the noise and distraction, in hopes of opening my heart more fully to God. It isn’t a race to simply cross a finish line and congratulate ourselves at the end for a job well done. If I was able to create a space to enter more deeply into relationship with God, why would I close the door now?

Over the past few weeks we have listened carefully to ways in both the Old and New Testaments that people heard and responded to the word of God. To really hear it, versus just listen to it, we internalize it and let it begin to shape who we are and how we show up each day in our encounters with others and in the choices we make in life.

This week gives us further opportunity to reflect on Jesus’ message and the immense sacrifice given in complete love for us. No matter how Lent went for us, we can allow this week to be one of a little more silence and reflection. Attend your parish or church services recalling the Lord’s Supper, Passion and Death on the Cross, and then after sitting in the silence of Holy Saturday, wait to celebrate the joy of Easter Resurrection. Slow down, enter into the holiness of this week. Listen to the scripture readings and reflect on the gifts you have in life and how God has showered love on you and those you love. Reflect on how you can share that Love with those you encounter.

If Lent has not changed us, it’s not too late. This week is our chance to go deeper.

Wishing you abundant graces this Holy Week. Deena

Image: A Station of the Cross on the grounds of Subiaco Abbey in Subiaco, Arkansas visited during a Benedictine Conference.

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A cry before God

This week my 4th Week of Lent journey with a Different Kind of Fast by Christine Valters Painter was to fast from holding it all together and embrace tenderness and vulnerability. I don’t know about you but when you are not feeling 100%, that kind of openness and sensitivity comes even easier. It seemed that no matter where I turned there was a story that resulted in an easy flow of tears. Our practice this week was to resist the demand to keep pushing through when your heart (and in my case this week, also my body) is crying out for a pause.

It seemed this openness attracted even more stories that pulled at my heartstrings and resulted in a pause of compassion and benevolence. A concerning personal update, reasons to stop and assess my all too frequent judgements, a friend’s family member hospitalized and on life support after a fluke accident, prayers for the daughter of a social media friend who became ill while studying in Italy, endless stories of children and families impacted by the war, a cat that was returned to a foster home after the traveling pet owners decided they couldn’t properly care for him (who is expressing his displeasure and fear openly), and another one, locally, who was placed in a shelter due to military relocation. If it wasn’t for the recent death of Bela, I might have considered bringing her home, but tears at PetSmart quickly helped me realize I don’t want to open myself to that kind of attachment again.

Christine Valters Painter shares in our Lenten study, a statement by Orthodox Christian theologian John Chryssavgis: “Tears and weeping indicate a significant frontier in the way of the desert. They bespeak a promise. In fact, they are the only way into the heart.” St. Ignatius of Loyola, Christine states, told us that the tears make us more attentive to the longings of our hearts. In other studies I have learned that St. Monica was known to weep daily for the conversion of her son, St. Augustine. Those tears obviously bore much fruit. St. Catherine of Siena, a personal favorite, was known for her gift of tears that were seen as a sign of her sensitivity and compassion.

I found myself pausing on the verse, as I prayed our Lectio with John 11:32-35, crying with Mary, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” It was a fitting passage for this week because today, the Fifth Sunday of Lent, we heard this gospel of the death and raising of Lazarus. Pope Leo XIV reminded us, today during his Angelus message, that this gospel is an invitation to hear the Lord’s call to new life, reminding us we get lost looking to the world in things that will never bring true happiness, that we are longing, in fact, for the infinite.

After this Angelus message and prayer, Pope Leo once again called for an end to violence, reminding us we cannot remain silent. We cannot ignore, he said, that what is harming those who are impacted by war and violence is harming us all. He urged us to persevere in prayer, reminding us that war is “a scandal to the entire human family and a cry before God.”

It might feel safer to pretend it isn’t happening and imagine that life is just fine, ignoring the news and tragedies occurring in the lives of our brothers and sisters. Or we can risk the compassion of Jesus, weeping at the death of his friend, embracing tenderness and vulnerability for those in need. We share our tears with those shed by others and make a cry before God for peace in our lives, personal and global.

I pray for peace in our hearts and in our world. Deena

Image: A photo I took of a stained glass window of our Lady with the body of Jesus being removed from the cross, in the chapel above the Holy Stairs, Scala Santa, in Rome. These stairs are believed to be the stairs leading up to the praetorium of Pontius Pilate in Jerusalem that Jesus had to climb several times before his death.

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Pray for peace

I begin by stating that I understand and support the notion that we create internal peace by staying out of negative and political social media posts, staying away from the news except to remain informed, or worrying about a war that we have absolutely no control over.

I get it, I really do. I am trying hard to create peace internally and in my small sphere of influence. I continue to write in my journal, as I have for months, that each day is going to be my peaceful day and I focus on that goal each day.

But when I see a little boy crying in a Lebanese hospital because he was bombed and saw his father in pieces before him, I also know we cannot hide from the reality of what this evil war is doing to innocent people. There are times we must speak out and defy what is happening. It is not making our country safer, richer or better off. I don’t need to share all the information about what is happening each day and how much it is costing our country. You can read that on your own.

I join Pope Leo XIV appealing to “those responsible for this conflict: cease fire!” I join him in asking each of us to look at what is happening with the eyes of Jesus. In today’s gospel for the Fourth Sunday of Lent Jesus cures the blind man. We can open our eyes or keep them shut. Pope Leo also said, “It takes a vigilant, careful and prophetic faith to open eyes to the darkness of the world and bring the light of the Gospel to them through commitment to peace, justice and solidarity.”

Speak up when you can. Support those in need in whatever way you are able. Vote to make a difference.

Most importantly, let us pray for peace in our world.

Deena

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Go sit in your cell

When asked for a word of wisdom, Abba Moses, one of the early desert fathers, told the seeker “Go sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” The journey of Lent is one of going within, engaging in disciplines that help us see, hear and respond more freely to the call of the Christ. This week I was called deeper into the desert.

After picking up the remains of my cat, Bela, on Tuesday, I felt a desire, and an inner call, to greater solitude. I needed space to process grief on many levels, not just losing Bela. I picked up some groceries, advised a couple people who needed to know that I wouldn’t be participating in “normal” activities for the remainder of the week. I turned within. I did have some text or phone conversations as needed, did some required social media posts on sites I post for, but spent the week reading, reflecting and journaling. I created a personal and private retreat in my home. Just like entering a silent retreat and questioning whether I would be able to gracefully encounter the time in silence, Wednesday morning I questioned what I was doing, I “should be…” Fortunately those temptations were met quickly and I easily fell in the rhythm of my self-created retreat.

When we set aside time and space for reflection, it’s amazing what shows up. Or perhaps, the quietude invites greater attention to the world as it always is around us, without a blur of motion, internal and external. For most of us the mind is a turbulent ocean, or sea, waves crashing and distracting us all of the time, but when the waves calm down we can see into the depth of the sea more clearly.

I was invited again this year to imagine receiving an empty clay bowl from Abba Arsenius, another of the early desert fathers, (Retreat: A Different Kind of Lent) as I had been given in the past. In the bowl we can visualize all the activities that fill up the bowl each day, distracting or addictive behavior, and then intentionally empty the bowl to create a spacious place to receive what is more life-giving.

Not everything I read or encountered was spiritual or faith reading. Most was. I also listened to a discussion by an author and life coach, Cheryl Richardson, who I followed more closely several years ago, but have been tuning into more frequently lately. She offered simple self-care wisdom during these challenging times we are experiencing. (These were offered in a quite humorous and sarcastic way, such as eat more sugar, make sure you always have your phone so you don’t miss a social media post, read every comment on them, and of course, stay up late each day!) I felt a longing for activities, or information, like that from my past. Things that were authentically me, things that inspired, shaped and formed me. Somehow they became “less spiritual”, a bogus assessment of where one is capable of experiencing God or Spirit.

I stitched – if you have stitched, crocheted, knitted or maybe even done puzzles or diamond art, you know it can become a method of quieting the mind. A stitch in, and a stitch out, can shape a slow pace for mindful breathing. It can become a way to let go, creating a framework for a quiet pause.

St John of the Cross said, which was often shared and made popular by Trappist monk, Thomas Keating, “Silence is God’s first language. Everything else is a poor translation.” In stillness we can hear what is more essential. Nothing I “heard” or read this week was an earth-shattering revelation, but I was awed, and grateful for, the insights that did form throughout the week. Like the Samaritan woman in today’s Third Sunday of Lent gospel, I have been at the well thirsting for a drink. This week, during my quiet pause, I was given a long, cool, refreshing drink.

It’s not practical for me to be able to retreat completely like that every week but I can certainly create more quiet spaces each day. I also want to continue to assess that my daily activities are done from a place of desire or service, not expectation. If any of this sounds inviting to you, perhaps you can consider some time in your day for a sacred pause to turn within and listen.

Wishing you abundant peace, Deena

Image: my purple bowl, a visual to remind myself to fill it more consciously and lovingly with things that matter.

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A fragrant, pleasing offering

I have seen the cloud of incense, representing our prayers, burn and move in interesting ways around the altar in our church. During the incensation, after exposing the Blessed Sacrament, the incense rises to the great high ceilings, lifting our prayers. Impacted by heat or air conditioning, air coming into the sanctuary from opening doors, etc. it can often create a cloud around the altar and monstrance.

The other night, during Adoration, the incense took on a life of its own, and a symbolism, that was quite moving for me.

The cloud hovered around the altar and the monstrance, creating a thin veil, inviting me to see beyond the physical to the reality of what was present before me. It sanctified the space for the Divine Presence with us. It slowly moved to the ambo, the pulpit, where the Word of God is proclaimed, as if to say, as the apostles heard in today’s Gospel, Listen to him. Then, it turned and drifted to sanctify our presence there. The cloud drifted out toward the pews, at the perfect height of those of us present and kneeling in this sacred space. It moved slowly from the altar, over each of us, as it moved towards the back of the church.

The Jewish Tabernacle, or Mishkan (dwelling place), initially portable, moved to more permanent structures with the building of Jewish synagogues. The scrolls are now housed in the Ark, the Aron Kodesh, while the building itself can be viewed as the Mishkan. In Exodus, the Jewish people were instructed to build an altar of acacia wood in the Mishkan which would create a pleasing altar for the burning of incense. Everything in the Tabernacle, each piece of furniture and the way it was constructed, represented intimacy with God. The altar of incense then represented the prayers of the people rising, in intimacy with and love of God.

The large thurible, or Botafumeiro, at the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela was not swung during my visit to Spain but I have seen videos of it during special liturgical feasts. It is swung to purify the air, participants and symbolize the prayers of the people rising to God. If pilgrims happen to arrive to the Cathedral on these special holy days, after walking the Camino, I envision the incense sanctifying their journeys, lifting and receiving all the intimate and personal prayers said during their pilgrimage.

In the book of Revelation we also hear of bowls of incense. The angel was “given much incense to offer with the prayers of all the saints on the golden altar before the throne and the smoke of the incense, with the prayers of the saints, rose before God from the hand of the angel.” It’s a beautiful image to consider the continual burning of incense, representing the prayers of the communion of the saints, small “s”, each person in the eternal presence of God.

As I reflected on the background of incense, and the scriptural references of our prayers like incense, I thought about our Lenten prayers and practices as fragrant and pleasing offerings to God. I pray to become a more pleasing “Mishkan”, a dwelling place, and enter into greater intimacy and union with God.

I pray that your journeys continue to be fruitful and meaningful as we begin this Second Week of Lent. Deena

Image: A picture I took of the great Botafumeiro in the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, Spain, visited during my pilgrimage.

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Led into the desert

In life we are led to places we don’t want to go. I have struggled with a thousand questions this week, none of them with life-giving answers that help me in my grief. The desert provides a vast and stark landscape, with few distractions, so we have room for answers to emerge. I am learning that the answers will have to emerge, in their own time, they do not break through as a result of my willing it. Perhaps that is why we are given the symbolic period of 40 days in our own Lenten journeys to mirror the days that Jesus was led into the desert to pray, fast and be tempted. We need time to “rediscover what our hearts truly desire when the distractions fall away” as so beautifully stated in the opening of the Laudato Si’ reflection for the First Sunday of Lent.

What I desired for Lent was to enter a desert time to be free of the distractions that were filling my time with things other than prayer and reflection. Now the distraction of all my questions is consuming my time, impacting the desire for prayer and reflection, even more than going out for coffee would have done.

Given the temptation of changing this situation, just like a rock into a loaf of bread, I would probably say “yes”, change it. I would not be strong enough to resist the temptation. I want Lent to be different than it is.

If you are finding you have a similar mindset as you look at the distractions in your own life – wishing to change circumstances to be a person more centered in prayer and meditation, to be a person of peace and lovingkindness and more compassionate towards others, to want to give more of your time to those in need – you are not alone. I hope for each of us that the desire for these good works is in itself a grace. As also stated in the reflection by Laudato Si’, the distorted desire for the things (my add – of the world, more fleeting in nature) that are pleasing becomes a distraction, they fragment us, not free us.

This weekend in my journaling and reflection I read something written by Rainer Maria Rilke that I am trying to sit with. He invites us to “have patience with everything unresolved” in our hearts and to love the questions. “Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given now, because you would not be able to live them. The point is, to live everything.” I must have hope in that, to live with the questions so that the answers slowly emerge as part of living into them. Just as I have hoped by writing my “peaceful day” statement every day for months is a slow drip of water smoothing the jagged edges of my heart, I have hope in this guidance by Rilke.

Let each day be what it is. Lean into the questions. Hold hope that they are all part of a larger transformation taking place.

Wishing you a week of peace and hope, Deena

Image created in Canva

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Lenten solitude

When I started this post last weekend I had decided that journeying to the desert, both spiritually, and physically was a way to grow closer to God. Spiritually Lent is full of images of the desert and of turning away from the temptations of the world. Physically I had decided to “stay in” during these 40 days, to not spend money on coffee or dinners out, in the hopes to clear more time and space for prayer. Never in my imagination did I think the beginning of Lent would also be an emotional journey of emptiness, exposure and piercing loneliness.

As I said goodbye to my sweet boy, Bela, yesterday, I have been in a place where the sun is scorching and there is no protection from the winds of grief as they stir up minute upon minute. There is no cover and no place to hide. The ashes this morning certainly had a different symbolism and reminder of how fleeting life can be. For some, the (almost) 18 years I have cared for Bela may not seem fleeting. For others, the grief may not be understandable for “just a pet”. But from the first moment Bela chose me and this home, he has been so much more. But that may be a story for a different day, when I can find the joy in telling it.

Preparing for Lent initially, I reflected on the Covid pandemic and how sheltering in place was like a journey to the desert. We had to leave behind our routines and stay home. We ordered judiciously, or ventured out rarely, to prevent unnecessary trips to the store or for delivery people. I helped set up our online parish evening litanies and live-streamed Masses. I attended other virtual retreats and prayer events. It became a time, for me, full of the richest spiritual blessings and graces, at a time of so much pain and fear for others. I was not blind to the difficulties for others, but as an introvert (yes, really!) I relished staying home and participating in virtual events. I had the cats for company. I had more time to contemplate life and my faith and I treasured the depth of experience that I was having.

Like the Desert Fathers and Mothers who opted out of normal activities and retreated outwardly to the desert so that they could retreat inwardly toward God, I desire the same kind of solitude during these 40 days of Lent. It’s not a complete withdrawal because I can and will attend Masses, Stations of the Cross, as well as other Lenten prayer and scripture groups in person. I will be facilitating a Lenten group discussion as we read and pray with Crux, by Ascension Press (see note below). But, what began as a desire to be more intentional in that quiet time changed dramatically yesterday. It is a different quiet time that I am receiving than what I desired. What remains though, is time for personal prayer and reflection, a space to lean into scripture searching for words of comfort, and to practice mindful breathing and being present to each moment, even if that moment is filled with grief and a call to surrender to the crashing waves of those feelings.

If you choose to be intentional about the experience of Lent, I would ask what one thing you would like to retreat from during these 40 days? Would it be possible to do that, by carving out the space for more personal time for prayer and reflection? How might you change Lent from simply focusing on the discipline of “giving something up” to a change in your relationship with the distractions of world? I would love to hear from you and how it goes for you during Lent.

Also, a word of thanks to all of you who took the time to reach out via text or to comment on my post about Bela this morning. I haven’t been able to read them yet, but just seeing the updates has brought comfort. I think I will be able to read them tomorrow, until then, I am so grateful!

Wishing you a holy Lent with time to be open and receptive to the voice of the Spirit, Deena

As a note, Crux is available on the Ascension Press app with a discounted rate of $4.99 for 90 days of access. There are daily videos with Fr. Columba Jordan, Lenten challenges, prayers and reflections.

Image: a bird that Bela and I were watching from the window on Saturday. He seemed so peaceful by himself, a fitting image for my Lenten journey.

A pilgrim journey

Our Lenten journey has brought us to the glorious Feast of Easter, it is the Solemnity of all Solemnities, a joyful conclusion to our Lenten penances and the beginning of the Octave of Easter (Easter is eight days long!). I wish you and your loved ones a grace-filled Easter Season!

If you participated in the Triduum Services of the Lord’s Supper, Good Friday and Easter Vigil, there is so much to reflect on from the solemn liturgies we prayed with and today we celebrate the gift of God’s love in the Resurrection. A few thoughts came to mind as I reflected on my own journey through Lent.

Meditations written by Pope Francis for the Good Friday Way of the Cross in Rome’s Colosseum explained that the world we are faced with can be cold and calculating, that we become prisoners of ourselves when we focus on selfishness and indifference to those in need. Writing about and using the analogy of each of the Stations, Pope Francis explains our human journey and that only when we focus on the way of Christ, are we able to make sense in our lives, to bring about a restoration of joy and we feel as though we have come home.

Pope Francis’ meditation reminds me of the essence of a book I read during Lent, Jesus and the Jubilee; The Biblical Roots of the Year of God’s Favor by Dr. John Bergsma. It’s a deep and profound study of the history of the Jubilee Year in the Church and an invitation to reflect on this current Jubilee Year of Hope 2025, as a way of life, not a single, special event in the Church. He shares practical ways that we can bring the Spirit of Jubilee into our lives. We reflect on how we might make Jubilee a lifestyle and encounter the liberty that Jubilee offers us. If I approach the crosses of daily life with a heart of the Beatitudes and the “divine economy” of God, then we are able to experience the liberating grace of Jubilee.

I spent time on Holy Saturday reflecting on words written by Fr. James Martin, S.J. for America magazine on waiting. Fr. Martin wrote that most of our life is spent waiting. Our days waiting aren’t always “the unbearable pain of a Good Friday. Nor are they suffused with the unbelievable joy of an Easter.” Most days, Fr. Martin proposes, are “in between”. We wait for changes in circumstances, health, job, and relationships. I know I often think, “when this happens” (whatever “this” is), then I’ll be happier or find more peace, that my life will change or be better. But, our waiting becomes bearable when we change our approach to the outcome we desire and when we choose to wait with hope.

As I look back on this Lent, I’m a little sad it has ended. I have benefited from the extra prayers and practices. I have grown and changed in ways I hoped to, but desire so much more. That, I suppose, is our Easter pilgrimage, a journey that continues beyond this Lent and each day of our lives.

Wishing you abundant peace, Deena

Image: A fresco of the women encountering the angel at the tomb of Jesus, painted by Fra Angelico viewed in the Museo di San Marco in Florence, Italy.

Walk slowly

When I am focused on a task I tend to power through it. It might take me a bit to get motivated but then once I am ready to take it on, I can be quite determined. That is a great quality for house cleaning, organizing or cleaning up the garden but perhaps not the best attitude for the season of Lent and preparing for Easter.

This past week I was reflecting on quotes by Catherine of Siena, regarding the endless abyss of love that God has for each of us, which seemed fitting the week before Holy Week. As a commentary I was challenged to consider, to be moved by this love, and to allow any ways that I have been indifferent or unaware of the depth of that love to come into my awareness. I reviewed the practices that I have taken on during the Lenten season and realized that as we got deeper in the season I was powering through the readings and daily reflections like I would a class assignment. It became a task to complete, an activity to mark done, and an accomplishment versus my original desire to create more space for intimacy in my relationship with Christ. My journal is full of moments of introspection and grace for sure, but my pride and perfectionism were also evident to me as I pondered the weeks leading up to today, Palm Sunday, and our entrance into Holy Week.

As I reflect on Lent and my desire for that intimacy with Christ, I can honestly say it has been one of the best Lent’s ever, my desire for liberation and change of heart, deepening in a way that I prayed for. But I know that, reflecting on my approach, there is a capacity for deeper intimacy this week.

It’s not too late.

So this week, if you participate in Triduum services, or as you reflect personally on the somber days of Holy Thursday, Good Friday and the silence of Easter Saturday, walk slowly and contemplate what is happening within you as you prepare for Easter Sunday. Each Easter, during Mass, the congregation is asked to renew baptismal promises. In one of my Lenten reflection books I was invited to consider how well I have fulfilled those commitments this past year. Preparing for that renewal again this year, how might I resurrect the promises of new life within me? Where am I being invited to seek renewal in my life? I offer those reflections and invitations to you as well.

I wish you an abundance of grace this Holy Week, as we contemplate the greatest sacrifice of love. Deena

Image: The Palm Sunday cross at my parish, Holy Family Church.

Cultivating beauty

On March 24, for the Third Week of Lent, I read the following quote by Joan Chittister, in her Reflection Resource, Cry Justice, Cry Hope, and I began implementing the practice of being, or at least attempting, to be more aware of beauty around me, with a strong desire to cultivate it more within me.

The purpose of life is to cultivate the sacred in ourselves so that we can come to know God before we see God. Goethe puts it this way: “A person should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful that God has implanted in the human soul. ” This week, follow Goethe’s advice. Every day this week, list one way that you tried to “cultivate beauty in the human soul. ” In your own life … in your neighborhood … in the world.

––from Cry Justice, Cry Hope by Joan Chittister

I think that is why I love having a garden, keeping fresh flowers on my kitchen counter each week, like the daisies in my blog photo, or creating little vignettes of objects in my home. Looking at something beautiful uplifts and inspires me. It does as Sr. Joan suggests, help me see God in the world around me. After reading Sr. Joan’s quote, I want to raise my awareness of the beauty I see around me in the world. I want to make a conscious effort of cultivating beauty in my life so that I might create more beauty in the world. It’s going to be a work in progress for sure!

This weekend I was blessed to be a participant, virtually, in a retreat being given by my friend, author Judith Valente for the Associates of the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth in Kentucky. The presentations by Judith and by Brother Paul Quenon, her friend, co-author of books and a Trappist monk at the Abbey of Gethsemani, were wonderful but perhaps my favorite was Judith’s talk on Saturday evening, “What can we learn from Italians this Lent about living more mindfully”. So many of the practices, la dolce vita (living the sweet life), that Judith discussed are practices I grew up with or still make part of my life. Sunday meals at my Italian grandmother’s home while growing up, the art of sitting and engaging in conversation over coffee, as well as visiting our family cemetery plots to clean up and remember our beloved deceased.

My return to Italy in the Fall of 2023 rekindled a passion for living and savoring the good life. My friend Kelly’s visit to Italy this past week, and pictures she shared of a family dinner gathering, reminded me of the graces of sitting down together for aperitivo, good food, wine and conversation. I tend to rush through dinner, if I even make it, instead of savoring the slowing down of the day before the quiet time of evening.

As a note, you will be able to read more of Judith’s reflections on life in Italy in her new book, The Italian Soul: How to Savor the Full Joys of Life, which will be released on May 5. (Click on the link to preorder it.) Judith’s book will help us learn to look more deeply for beauty in life and experience the grace of the present moment, the life we are living. It is not only an Italian way of life, but a spiritual lifestyle. It is the same awareness that Goethe and Sr. Joan Chittister are encouraging us to have.

So this week, I invite you to look for and instill more beauty in your life, just as Sr. Joan and Judith have excited in me a desire to look for more awe-inspiring moments in the everyday. Look for, and pause to savor, these moments when you encounter them. Create them in your daily living and the way you express yourself in the world, with your family and in your home.

In a previous blog post I mentioned a new practice of keeping an ongoing list of my daily gratitude, tracking the sequential numbers versus jotting down three new entries each day. To this practice I have added an area to reflect on beauty that crossed my path each day. Besides my daily spiritual and creative reflections, I write in my daily Examen journal the consolations or graces and desolations each day. Before those movements of the Spirit, I note my reflections of gratitude and beauty. I have included a sample of today’s page, in this blog post, before writing in it later today. Try it and let me know what you think.

Wishing you abundant peace and this week, la dolce vita! Deena

My daily Examen journal image: