Showing posts with label St. Jane House. Show all posts
Showing posts with label St. Jane House. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

On Structure: Inviting a Framework for Healthy Living

Some days I miss teaching. Rather, I miss the rhythms and order of the school day. I crave the structure inherent in a formal educational setting, complete with an early rising, mapped lesson plans, the ringing of the school bell, and allotted time for lunch, further prep and recess. I marvel reflecting on the discipline required by this profession to have learning objectives and a curriculum laid out that guide each class of learners, and me as their teacher/ facilitator. I miss this kind of framework for my daily life, as well as my role in helping co-create this structure.

As a mom who works part time professionally from home -- and coffee shops-- I need this kind of structure for my sanity, productivity, and well-being. However, this marked rhythm of the day often eludes me. With a beautiful small child at the center of my priorities and focus comes the needs of this little wonder and her own body's growing, changing requirements and evolving temperament. Life changes from day to day. As the old adage goes: the minute you get comfortable knowing your child and their needs, he or she changes.

Marguerite is a good little sleeper by all accounts. There is no question we were blessed by a combination of her disposition and some intentional parenting advice that gave rise to a fairly healthy sleep routine. Kiddo goes down consistently between 7:30pm and 8pm and 9 nights of out 10 stays happily put until 7:30am the next morning. (I'll admit that 7:30am is even EARLY for her to wake, and it's more like 8:30am or 9am when her father or I lift her out of the crib.) It's that tenth evening out of ten, however, when baby girl rears her head towards sleep -- is so engaged in some new piece of learning -- that her spirit demands further awake time, or better yet, more contact time with mom, and things have to shift. My life and rhythms have to shift.

This is parenting, this is a role I have prepped for -- consciously, or unconsciously -- all my adult days. This life is hard.

Add that my dear husband's schedule has changed from week to week for the past 105 that we have been married, and you may begin to fathom my knee-wobbling, weary status. "When do you go to work? When are we having a meal together? Will I see you in bed tonight? Are we able to attend mass together? Do you think we might be able to go out on a date next week?" Nothing is ever really consistent. On Thursday, Mr. Kiemde learns about his Saturday's schedule. Planning ahead is virtually impossible. Add some rocking college courses to the mix of our lives and his schedule, and it all adds up to create a challenging life that invites me to live, most often, ungrounded, but in the present moment.

I hold the needs of my husband and daughter in the center of my heart, and respond accordingly. It's not unlike education in that regard, in that I find my priorities falling behind those of the dear ones that I feel called to be present to, and in the case of family, made a lifetime commitment to.

Enter: The Visitation Sisters. Enter these religious women who have also made a lifetime commitment to Love, to one another, and to God, but whose order of the day is grounded in prayer. Four times a day these nuns convene to pray the liturgy of the hours, to tune into what scripture is saying to them, and unpack their lives through the lens of Love, of God, of inspired Word. It's awesome. I believe this is certainly why I feel called, over and over again, to return to the monastery, to be among the sisters and pray.

Recently, I made a commitment to return to a weekly structured prayer time in the vicinity of the Sisters. The Centering Prayer group that convenes every Tuesday morning at 7:45am at St.. Jane House under the auspices of Vis Companion, Brian Mogren, has rejuvenated me.

I rise -well before my body normally wakes- to shower, dress in the dark, and creep out the door to make my way in early morning rush hour traffic from St. Paul to north Minneapolis, in order to join a group of 15 to 20 or so other friends in silent prayer. Some days I'm able to enter the space during a storytelling time, when a member of the Centering Prayer community is sharing a narrative about their faith journey; I listen and am inspired. Then, with the ringing of a singing bowl announcing the start of prayer, and some intentional words guiding our silent meditation, we enter into the quiet. For twenty minutes I breathe in and out with nothing save the goal to empty myself and make way to tune into the Divine Indwelling. I sit within this circle of aligned individuals from various faith traditions who likewise crave quiet, order, an emptying of all personal agenda, except to Love, Heal, Be. In a word, it's "awesome." At the end of twenty minutes (which goes all to quickly for this aspiring prayer-warrior), another bell rings, and individuals speak aloud prayerful intentions that have surfaced in their meditation. Together, we are joined as individuals in the world with all other prayerful beings around the globe as we give voice to what is in our hearts, or even silently, as we offer these thoughts to a benevolent Creator and one another. Together, we slowly recite the Lord's Prayer, and by 8:30am, we are standing to go on about our day.

And this weekly structured activity is like my salvation. This is where I am able to turn over any and all concerns that plague me and give voice to my heart's deepest longings and largest joys. I celebrate that this group exists. I celebrate all that is necessary for each person to convene to actually convene. I recognize that it is not without some significant conversations and intentional actions on the part of my husband and I to make this weekly activity a possibility for me. I celebrate the way that this experience helps ground me, at least momentarily, in world where I feel so wobbly and crave stability and structure. I celebrate the way that this one activity every Tuesday morning inspires me as a wife, mom, and writer, tuning into the many ways that I am called to love, create and serve in this world.
***

I wonder how you are making structure, or find such parallel experiences or activity in your world?

Peace, Happy Contemplating,
Melissa

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Claiming Connection: Finding Family, Hope and Faith with a Man who Committed Murder

The following was originally written as a blog for the Visitation Monastery of North Minneapolis. I post it here to share with friends, family, outside the Visitation Community and network. I welcome your thoughts or responses.

On Saturday, April 17, I sat in the living room of St. Jane House in North Minneapolis and listened to Oshea Israel tell his story of what shaped him as a young man who committed murder at the age of 17. Seated next to him were his brother and mother, and present across the room was a grandmother. None of these people were biologically, blood-related, but all claimed him in the fullest sense of familial relationship. Included in this configuration of chosen kinfolk was Oshea's dearest male alliance -- someone who shared the experiences of incarceration and an aligned sort of upbringing; a Visitation Sister on the day before her 82 birthday - who had only recently adopted Oshea as grandson; and then the most-staggering of all maternal figures: the mother of the son whose life Oshea took 17 years prior. In the wake of Mary Johnson losing her own male child, she found the space and grace and God-given ability - during the time after his murder - to genuinely forgive this boy who killed her son, and then claim the murderer as her own heir.

It was an experience nothing short of mind-blowing.

What makes us family?
What calls us to radical spaces of love and forgiveness?
How many of us find ourselves in close proximity to murderers and former felons and forgivers?
How do we locate ourselves inside such circles?
Who among us claims such alliances? And why?

By the end of the afternoon, I found myself kissing Oshea's cheeks, squeezing him in solidarity and support, and marveling about what, if anything - save experience - separates us? He could be my brother. He could be my cousin. He could be me. Yes. Or rather, I can fathom being him.

I don't write such things lightly. But listening to Oshea's narrative, honoring intensely an interrogated past, I find myself completely humbled by his courageous examination of what has shaped him. In this space, on this particular Saturday in April, I have the privilege to hear him disclose such a tale as he pours out details about what gave way to birthing this murderous mentality. And I get him. I can hear him. I can fathom all that he reports about his loving biological mom; a nurturing, present step-father, and a desired alliance with his often absent, distant dad. I quake with compassion as he confesses the tiny but gigantic detail that gives rise, in his recollection, to a desire to kill when he was only five. Oshea shares the significant moment when he overheard his mom state that she was raped by her own father. He identifies that at that point in time he knew he wanted to kill, and would kill. He reflects on the choices he started to make from that tender age onward, giving rise and shape to an identity as "fighter" as "boy capable of murder." He is conscious and takes responsibility for this journey that lead to another young man's death. He also recognizes and knows that this is not his true identity. He has the wisdom and faith and courage and humility to claim that he has a soul larger than this horrible crime, but knows he is loved and has love, is love, and has a Divine purpose transcending this experience.

I marvel listening to Oshea. I am in this privileged space where I find an alliance and deep resonance with this man's tale. I have deep regard for him, am humbled by his tale, am proud of his capacity to receive forgiveness and to reject this label that reduces him to one of his darkest moments. Oshea Israel inspires me.

I think that if Oshea Israel can transcend label as "murderer," then what can I overcome? What are my darkest moments in this life to date? What do I shake from my skin and bones and refuse to let define me as a 41 year old woman? I return to Oshea and see his beaming smile, feel his large spirit and seemingly boundless hope for the future, and I claim a similar kind of faith. He is loved. I am loved. We are love. We are one in God's creation.

I don't think these experiences or opportunities to sit in the presence of "the other" - a former felon or convicted killer or simply someone seemingly so different - come often for many of us. I imagine or speculate that what I'm sharing might seem beyond the comfort zone of many. But I can't be sure. I just know for me, the opportunity to be invited to such a space with the Visitation Sisters, at St. Jane House, to convene with compassionate inquiry and active listening guiding the day, is a privilege -- as it takes me to these further spaces of reflection and awareness of God's grace, love, mercy. I begin to see more distinctly our inherently inter-connected natures. I find myself alive in love and wonder. I want to support Oshea in his journey beyond jail, in his walk as a man of integrity, examined life, of forgiveness, of incredible wisdom and witness to Love. I want to be similar in my own trek on this planet: also inspiring and living a radical kind of loving existence.

If I shirk my darkest moments of reductive identity markers, and claim the beloved nature of my soul, then what might I be capable of as a member of this human race?
Who might I be as a woman? As a wife? As a mother? As a teacher? What might I inspire or have the courage to do?

I extend these questions to each of you prayerfully on this day. I invite you to reflect on your darkest moments, to see your most beautiful selves, as the Divine sees us all. I urge you to open any closed spaces where you might reject or fear an invitation to experience life beyond your comfort zone. I encourage you to come and hear Oshea and Mary speak, and listen deeply to the way their story shapes or inspires your own.

In prayer, contemplation, love,
Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde


Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Building Bridges: Hosting Dorothy Amenuke at St. Jane House and Redeemer Center for Life

One of my deepest pleasures in life is connecting people. Recognizing the range of beautiful humans I have the privilege of knowing and being in relationship with, I hold dear the opportunity to introduce friends from different parts of my world to one another. This past month, a series of these opportunities presented themselves, when my Ghanaian artist friend Dorothy Amenuke came to town, and we had a slumber party of sorts at St. Jane House in North Minneapolis. While I no longer own my own home for hosting such international friends, I do have access to a delightful spot that is increasingly growing in popularity for such cultural exchange opportunities. St. Jane House, so named after Jane de Chantal, co-foundress of the Visitation Monastery, is the lovely retreat and dialogue space run by the Vis Sisters of North Minneapolis and their lay companion, Brian Mogren. The following are images made possible through the St. Jane House affiliation and the 36 hour whirlwind of connection and conversation that ensued.

Big Thanks go out to:
Brian Mogren
The Visitation Sisters of North Minneapolis
The Centering Prayer Group
Janet Hagberg, Redeemer Center for Life, (member of the Centering Prayer Group, who had this idea to connect Dorothy with other women who work with fabric).
Harriet Oyera, The Living Room, Redeemer Center for Life (Member of the Centering Prayer Group.)
The Colonial and Redeemer Lutheran Quilting Groups (who convened and shared work with Dorothy)
Pastor Kelly, Redeemer Lutheran Church
Trish Kloeckl, Friend of the Visitation Sisters (who stopped to meet Dorothy and help select a piece of her batik for the wall at St. Jane House.)
Ann Dillard, Project Safety Nets, Senegal, West Africa, (who stopped by St. Jane House to connect with another woman in leadership around such life, sustainability, creative arts education issues.)
Barbara Cox, Multicultural Voices Initiative, Perpich Center for Arts Education (who introduced me to Dorothy)
Pat Black, Fiber Artist, St. Paul Host for Dorothy
Dorothy Amenuke, Fiber Artist, Sculptor, Kumasi, Ghana




Dorothy Amenuke warmly greeted by Harriet Oyera at the
Redeemer Church BBQ in North Minneapolis

Redeemer and Colonial Quilters Connecting with Batik Artist, Dorothy Amenuke


Janet Hagberg, Redeemer Lutheran, in line for the community meal with Dorothy


Introducing Pastor Kelly to Dorothy


A warm welcome from Harriet Oyera to the Living Room at the Redeemer Center for Life


Quilters admiring Dorothy's work


So many fabrics


Harriet shares her quilting work with Dorothy

Trish Kloeckl and Dorothy Amenuke chilling at St. Jane House


Ann Dillard, from North Minneapolis, presents her work in Senegal, West Africa


The juxtaposition of Ann and Dorothy underneath the Visitation
Painting of Elizabeth and Mary makes me smile.