Cranaleith Spiritual Center: I enjoyed being Catholic for a Day!

Sr. Mary Anne Nolan, RSM (Religious Sisters of Mercy) gave a wonderful presentation on The Spirituality of Aging.

As soon as I read the description, which was delivered to my Inbox, I wanted to go:

On this day of retreat we will be reflecting on the value and meaning of our later years as God's gift to us. We will take into account the challenges of our later years with regard to physical diminishment and loss. The day promises to be one of hope and gratitude!

Even tho I went alone, I met so many wonderful people, all women, except one man, who said one of his losses with age was his hair, which began at age 22.

Waiting in the Upstairs Room to start the program.

I gave Sister Mary Ann a poem I read this a.m. by Donald Hall called Affirmation:

Affirmation

To grow old is to lose everything.
Aging, everybody knows it.
Even when we are young,
we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads
when a grandfather dies.
Then we row for years on the midsummer
pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage,
that began without harm, scatters
into debris on the shore,
and a friend from school drops
cold on a rocky strand.
If a new love carries us
past middle age, our wife will die
at her strongest and most beautiful.
New women come and go. All go.
The pretty lover who announces
that she is temporary
is temporary. The bold woman,
middle-aged against our old age,
sinks under an anxiety she cannot withstand.
Another friend of decades estranges himself
in words that pollute thirty years.
Let us stifle under mud at the pond's edge
and affirm that it is fitting
and delicious to lose everything.

Here's Hall and his beloved late wife Jane Kenyon, who died of leukemia.

Here's poem I wrote about her:

FOR THE POET TAKEN AWAY

in memory of Jane Kenyon (1947-1995)

I was looking for
a book of poetry
asparagas-thin,
skinny books being
easier on one's chest for
bedtime reading.

Finding one,
I brought it to the sales girl
who sighed and said,
"Oh, dear,
it doesn't have a bar code."

Ah, blessed day
for poets and for me.
I looked at the back cover,
clean, unmarred
by that fat
disorderly line-up of sticks.

"No wonder," I said to the sales girl.
"The author has just died
and probably took them with her."

On my way to the car
I invited the poet
to slip inside me.
"Use my body any time you wish,"
I said and waited, my feet
pattering on the pavement,
for some sort of inner settling
that never came.

I showed her
the cluster of winter weeds,
their tassels dark with age.
Somehow, in the construction
of this aromatic new Barnes and Noble,
they managed to escape
the carnage that befell the
more obvious trees and woodlands.

Did she miss them?
these earthly delights  -
thick-maned dogs, ponds, frosty maples -
images from her poems.

I will miss them,
when the time comes,
something as simple as
the back of my hand
creased with wrinkles;
fingernails, all without
moons,
a family trait.

Sister Maria DiBello introduces the speaker. We began by praying and singing. We had the lyrix in front of us.

Twas like being in synagogue where the leader reads a verse and then the congregants read another.

I've always loved the Psalms and learned a new one - Psalm 139 - whose first lines include:

Tender God, you know me and love me.
You know if I am sitting or standing,
or hurting or aching.

Sr. Mary Anne had knee surgery five years ago. A tall woman, she'd been a basketball player in high school and then when she was in a convent had to kneel on unpadded benches, which further wounded her knees.

But she said she's grateful for those opportunities which have led her to be more a spiritual and compassionate person.

Here's a prayer she shared from St. Theresa of Avila:

Christ has no body now on earth but yours,
no hands but yours,
no feet but yours,
yours are the eyes through which Christ's compassion
is to look out to the earth.....

What a beautiful sentiment if you're a believer.

I was wearing my Menorah earrings from The Jewish Museum.

C'est moi, holding a magnolia branch I got outside of Michael's Craft Store on the way home. They'll go on my kitchen window sill.

At lunch I sat with two nuns. Sister Virginia, on the left, is newly retired. She's an astonishing 81 and worked as a high school teacher. Next to her is Sister Stephanie, who was recently replaced at her job by someone 20 yrs younger, and is awaiting re-assignment.

She's over in Bensalem at the Katharine Drexel Shrine, which I used to visit on my lunch hour when I worked as a therapist. In fact, I wrote up one of my visits in our Compass mag.

Stephanie told me she visited Italy when Katharine - of the famous Drexel University family - was canonized. She also visited Haiti twice.

All the women I met contributed significantly to their community.

Here's another Katherine, who came from Doylestown. She said the Michener Museum is gonna mount a Grace Kelly exhibit. I told her about the PA Horticulture Society buying Liddon Pennock's mansion Meadowbrook Farm.

When Grace Kelly visited him, she didn't like his vestibule, so he did it all over!

We talked about all the losses as we age. I mentioned that we can't accomplish all the dreams we have. I'm fairly certain I will never see Yosemite Valley unless you wanna go with me! Email me immediately and we'll make plans!

Speaking of the Compass, I told Dorothy Rudolph that I was looking thru an old Compass and saw her article and drawing. An artist, she told a wonderful story about her art teacher, who passed away at 64 of a heart attack in his sleep, giving his heart and soul for his students, including herself.

I told Dorth I'd tried to get to the opening reception of her art show in Sellersville this Saturday.

I absolutely love doing new things and going places I've never been before.

Dorothy's Compass article is from 2003.



Here's some of Dorothy Rudolph's glorious art work awaiting us in Sellersville.

Who doesn't love Sister Maria DiBello?

An angel on earth.

I was in a trance as I drove home. Wonderful music on WRTI, something by Arthur Foote, who I'd never heard of. Great! Another composer to explore.

Au revoir for now Cranaleith!

Directions for next time, Ruthie!

Byberry toward Bustleton.

Two streets after Bustleton is Proctor Road.

Turn left.

Pass St. Christopher Church on right.

Make right into Cranaleith.

Sprayed Gloss onto the bird houses and repainted Mr Buddha who was shedding his pinkness.

And now, if you'll excuse me, Scott is waiting for me. Naptime!