On Marriage, Love, Stories: An Invitation to Reflect

"It's my ongoing prayer for all men and women to lead lives that honor the way their hearts and God have called them to love. This includes being able to marry." --Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

I attended a gathering of families and friends on Sunday evening, November 6, 2011, marking the beginning of a year long campaign to celebrate marriage equality. There was food, kid friendly activities, and a short program on the MN United for All Families campaign to defeat the "Marriage Amendment", defining marriage as between one man and one woman. A Catholic neighbor of mine invited me to the event. It was at this gathering that each person present received another invitation. Our host, before her 30 or so guests -- all standing or seated next to each other around the periphery of the living, dining and entryways of her home -- said, "I invite you to tell your stories of what marriage means to you. Don't point or refer to large groups of people in general, tell your story. Make it personal. Share something that can be said in six words, or up to six minutes; think of what you might be able to convey to someone, for example, riding on an elevator with you."

"I invite you to tell your stories of what marriage means to you. Don't point or refer to large groups of people in general, tell your story. Make it personal. Share something that can be said in six words, or up to six minutes..."

The prompt gave me pause, made me smile, and stirred something deep within me that longs to talk about this issue, especially as it relates to my faith, my family, and how I'm called to live love, or "Live + Jesus!" as we say.

Marriage is the transformational vocation I received to live my life committed to one other person, a radical action in any time, in my opinion, evolutionary in its charge. I believe God called me to this institution and to my husband, Francois, just as He called and calls me over and over again to serve others in and through relational ways. Marriage is hard work, no matter who you are or what your sexual orientation is. It's something my partner and I return to daily as we tune into the ways God invites us to love and be gentle and nurturing with one another. I could not do this work without a community of people alongside me, helping model and remind me of Love's mystery, grace and on-going call. The Visitation Sisters, the Catholic women I am a companion to, are such a community of nurturing, religious women, who help anchor me in the ways I've been called to love, partner and serve, as they live their faith and the mystery of the Visitation, fostering mutual love alliances at every turn.

It's my ongoing prayer for all men and women to lead lives that honor the way their hearts and God have called them to love. This includes being able to marry.

Our daughter's godfather is a beautiful Catholic man - who happens to be gay. We chose Zac to serve in this baptismal role for Marguerite because of his gentleness, wisdom, humor, and dedication to his faith. We believe he is a model of God's love in our midst: a God-father for our child in the fullest sense. If Zac is called to marry, and be a father to his own children, we want nothing less for him, as a Catholic family, but to have his heart and calling honored by our larger church and civic communities. We want him to be able to have the love and support that we so need in living out our vocations.

And so we pray. We invite you to share your own stories of what marriage means to you.

******

I share this post here today as a Visitation Companion, as part of my call to write about - and for - women and men discerning their vocations and the way that they may be called in a religious Catholic tradition, as well as in a larger, universal sense -- honoring the Salesian tradition that the Visitation founders - Sts. Francis de Sales and Jane de Chantal - modeled for us.

Fried Green Tomato Church

by Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

After an incredibly trying church service (in which the newly walking Marguerite Kiemde strutted her developmental stuff, doing laps to the front of the church to the choir, out the side door to the street, around the corner to the front steps, toddling up and back inside, and then repeating the entire procedure with me closely behind, celebrating her steps, trying to stay calm, and avoid any judgmental? stares.) If you can imagine: I came home a bit beleaguered.

(How to parent in church? What does an enriching mass experience look like for a young family without a cry room or child-care center? What fine line exists between cultivating a child's physical/ emotional/ developmental stages appropriately, alongside her spiritual sensibilities? If I am not "fed" spiritually, as my child's mom, how do I ever nurture my babe?... That's another blog in and of itself!)

I turn to how Mags and I made "church" at home, after our early departure from Ascension (post-homily/ pre-Eucharist.) In a phrase we found God in: Fried. Green. Tomatoes.
YES!

This past week on facebook there was a whole strand about this delicious summer fare that included several exchanges from my Aunts Marian and Peg and their Osmond/Colorado friend Audrey Wanke Dummer. I asked for recipe ideas, and I got them. And today, after the above described nearly God-less mass, I came home and adapted these cooking ideas, using fresh green tomatoes from my own garden, and tried to channel as much love and family and Jesus as I could into the experience.

I share these recipes with you now, smiling, with a sleeping baby; both she and I with full, happy bellies.

Fried Green Tomatoes
4-6 hard, green tomatoes
Buttermilk
Flour
Panko crumbs
Cayenne Pepper
Garlic Salt
Bacon grease

I began by frying a half a pound of applewood smoked bacon in a skillet. Once browned and crisped, I removed the bacon, placing it on a large paper-towel lined platter, that I would use for the fried tomatoes. I reserved the hot bacon drippings for frying my green tomatoes.

I cut the tomatoes pretty thin, between 1/8 and a 1/4 inches, salting them, and then soaking them in buttermilk, covering them in the cayenne pepper/ garlic salt flour mixture, and adding panko crumbs for extra crunch, before putting each in the hot bacon fat. I was working this assembly line as quickly as possible with messy fingers, and thanking God for a content Marguerite in her high chair (eating a banana and playing with a clean feta cheese container.)

I fried these till they were golden brown, and appreciated the way bits of bacon adhered to the panko crust. Delish!!

Sweet Onion Relish Sauce
Half of a sweet onion, chopped and cubed
1/2 cup mayonnaise
3 Tablespoons rice wine vinegar
Salt

Note: I totally ripped this recipe off from Paula Deen, when I was doing research for the best item to accompany said green tomatoes. (Buttermilk dressing? Spicy mustard? In a sandwich? I didn't know how exactly I was going to EAT the tomatoes once fried.) This sauce rocked!

Paula adds sugar to hers; I didn't. I prepared this onion mixture and served it next to the tomatoes. Maggie then climbed up on my lap and we gobbled up the dish. (Well, mostly, I gobbled up, and she alternated showing me her shoeless and shoed foot.)

***

"How is this church?" you might persist in wondering. To this query, I respond, channeling my best St. Francis de Sales thinking: that all small actions, done with love, are prayerful ones. I add that when we couple prayerful activity --our intentions directed toward God-- with the company of family, friends, angels, saints, are we not in deed experiencing a kind of church?

Today, I experienced service in a literal way, at Church of the Ascension in north Minneapolis, (in all of its parenting complexity) alongside a more figurative celebration: in my kitchen and at my dining table with my daughter, and the company of women and men who have grown and prepared fried green tomatoes in our family. It was a most nurturing kind of meal that buoys who I am as parent.

AMEN.

"Be still and BE:" Gentleness on the Front Lines of Parenting

"Be still and BE."

I'm spending time with the St. Francis de Sales these days. His words on gentleness, and examples of this way of being, are continually emerging in my life; combined with the line "Be still and BE" that I received in an email this morning, this all speaks loudly to my heart and mind.

A simple Salesian phrase from the Visitation Sisters' co-founder that feels connected to this line comes to mind:

"All is gentle to the gentle." --St Francis de Sales (LR VI 28)

I believe that when we allow stillness, simple breathing and an emptying of our hearts and minds to occur, that a gentleness may wash over us.

***

In the midst of my scrambling this morning, sad from an exchange with my husband that simply didn't go the way that I wanted, the effervescent Marguerite spilled over a glass of raspberry iced tea that I had left out. The contents landed on me, my white shirt, light green pants, and some of her "new" garage sale clothes that had recently been laundered: white and khaki items now turned pink-colored.

I swore, and then started crying. I don't like my child to experience me in such a state, but it is my humanity at work, and so what else is there, but to then be gentle with myself, her and respond as I am able. In the moment, I placed my 15 month old daughter in her high chair, and took all the soiled linens to the basement and sprayed them with stain remover.

When I returned, she was staring at me, and all I could see were the piles of dirty dishes in the sink, the unwashed countertops, an ajar back door: things that needed my attention. I was even more mad. And still: crying.

I could hear this Salesian priest speak to me: The more mercy we require, the more we receive.

I spoke to the knives in the kitchen drawer: I need a lot of mercy right now! Patience! Gentleness! Please?

And my child stood in her high chair, reaching her arms out to me.

That was two and a half hours ago. It's amazing what moving through moments, consciously, prayerfully, full of angst is all about.

"Be still and BE."
AMEN.

--
Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde,
Visitation Companion

Marguerite Meditation...

by Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

I am daily in awe of this small child that I call my daughter, Marguerite Marie Kiemde. Born May 22, 2010, at St. Joe's hospital in downtown St. Paul, MN, to Francois Kiemde and I, this little girl is rapidly emerging as a fiercely independent, dancing, lunging, walking, willful wonder. I pause this day to reflect a bit on her growth, personality, and all that she's tickling in me.

Social, cognitive, physical, and maybe spiritual developments rattle inside my brain:
--"Hi" is Marguerite's favorite word, used to greet us daily when we enter her room, along with every human being, or creature, who passes by. "Hi. Hi. Hi. HI." She will repeat this single syllable word incessantly as a delighted salutation, as well as a way to mean, "But can I have some more kefir?" Or "Toby, will you give me that toy?" or "Daddy, turn and look at me while I eat my cheese raviolis?!"

--Long gone is the once uttered "Bye bye" as Marguerite seemingly stands firmly in the present and the constant celebration of people arriving, rather than departing. (Note: She will wave when I say "Au revoir", but refuses to speak the b-consonant-sound and word.)

--Her friend Lisa Michaels taught her to "high five" and "blow kisses" one afternoon, and, as Ms. Michaels' insists, "to send text messages." This makes us all laugh and giggle with our communicating wonder.

--Coupled lately with the repeated "Hi" is another favorite word, "daddy." Daddy is everywhere. I marveled -- while sitting in mass yesterday -- that perhaps this was one of the those words and child-inspiring lessons, where I was being invited, through my daughter, to truly meditate on the Divine in our midst. "Daddy" in the apple. "Daddy" in the cat. "Daddy" in the trees. "Daddy" in the picture of me as a baby girl. Daddy, as in a masculine father/ Creator -- a God that I believe completely in, and that she seems to see everywhere, and greets joyfully over and over: "Hi, hi, hi...HI daddy!" She received a ceramic cross plaque at her baptism that reads, "God created everything, butterflies and birds that sing, the sun above and sky so blue, but best of all, God created you." She reads this above her changing table, points to herself, points to the cross and says, "daddy." It makes me smile.

***

--Whilst big sister Gabby visited us for three weeks this summer, other developments surfaced in our family's social interactions. As Mags insisted on pointing repeatedly to my nose one day, I asked, "Can you show mommy your eyes?" To which she immediately responded by placing her finger next to her eye. Gabby and I about fell over laughing, and in awe of what she seemed to understand us asking.

--The emergence of a new dance-like move -before going to bed one eve - delighted me to no end, and has since been seen in her daily movement vocabulary. Little girl tilts her head to her shoulder and then pops her arm and wrist, twirling her hand in such a way: you'd think she was going to attempt some pop and lock move.



--Gabby's morning routine greeting her baby sister undoubtedly was a highlight of her stay, having a developmental impact on Mags. The elder Kiemde girl would come in to Marguerite's crib area, and sing "Hello" snapping her fingers, twirling, shaking parts of her body that aren't possible to move so seamlessly in this mom. Maggie immediately tried to mimic the snap, pressing her tiny thumb and first two fingers together and giggling. (There's nothing quite so inspiring as this kind of non-verbal interaction between sisters. It's priceless!)

--Going down for her daily nap or to sleep at night includes the activity that has me most by the heart strings, as I observe and reflect on my baby girls' relationship with words and images in our book-reading ritual. My daughter's recognition of her own name, written in a book, is what has me baffled lately. We are sitting in her bedroom rocking chair, me holding her on my lap, she holding her favorite nursery rhyme book. I am reading the second page of the text where the line reads: "This book belongs to...." with Ms. Kiemde's name spelled out in cursive letters, and as I do so, she looks up at me, then back at the page, points to the line, and then points to herself.
I am blown away.

--My final note on Marguerite's development stems from her upright, physical movement. While many of you received the video of her first day walking, it's actually her climbing of steps, that has me more in awe and taking note. She bounds up staircases. There's no "on your knees" forward motion, but, with her hands reaching for mom or dad, the most confident approach to going up: one foot on a step following another. She will get so excited about this process, that her whole body will become parallel to the floor with her fast footwork forward. Step. Step. Step.

I have told her father, and other family members: we cannot criticize this child for her big movements. She is excited; let this be every indication that her spirit and dreams in life are large stepping ones; we are not to dash her ambitions or dreams about moving in any direction! (Especially as she boldly proclaims, "Hi daddy!" with each step.)

Happy developmental contemplations -- as we all reflect on our physical, emotional, cognitive and spiritual growth journeys!

Juxtaposition: Embrace

The above photographs were taken of Francois Kiemde and me during the past week. The first was shot on June 1, 2011, at Bethel College, at Francois' swearing-in-as-a-US-Citizen ceremony. Our friend, Alisa Blackwood Nelson was on hand to help document the day. The second was shot on Sunday, June 5, 2011, outside the Church of St. Philip in north Minneapolis. A reporter from the Star Tribune captured this moment just seconds after Fr. Dale Korogi officially declared my church of the past twelve years closed.

These images give me pause. They strike me as similar in subject matter, given that each features an embrace. In the former, I'm embracing Mr. Kiemde, in the latter, he's comforting me as our daughter reaches out to touch my arm. Both capture emotionally charged moments; one of joy, the other of incredible sorrow. Together, they feel like commentary to me on marriage. The way we support, envelop, wrap our arms around another and communicate presence, love.

I keep thinking of Sr. Mary Margaret's words to me so long ago in spiritual direction: When I fall in love, it will be an experience that challenges me to receive and be held in a new way. She talked about my future partner being someone who would nurture and support me in a manner that I had never known. Looking at this second picture: I see her words come true.

These images communicate the mutuality and gift of our marriage, our tenderness to one another. I'm grateful for the juxtaposition.

Tune into Tonight: CBS Evening News features Mary Johnson and O'shea Israel

Friends,
This evening on CBS Evening News, our friends Mary Johnson and O'shea Israel will be featured in a story about their tale as mother, son; mother and murderer; mother and forgiven man. I've written a bit at the Visitation Sisters' blog site about how this woman and man have so touched my heart and moved me deeply in expanding my faith and knowledge of the way grace and reconciliation occur. I invite you to tune in this evening and glimpse a bit of the tale of their lives and what has given shape to the way they work in this radical healing ministry of forgiveness and healing. Mary's outreach to the mothers and fathers of the young men and women who commit murder is what marks this ministry as truly unique, a gift to all who suffer in this realm of violence, death. Theirs is truly an inspiring tale to take in!

For more on Mary Johnson, O'shea Israel and "From Death to Life" healing ministries:

• Forgiving Her Son's Killer: 'Not An Easy Thing' (National Public Radio)
  

• In the News: St. Jane House Friends Mary and Oshea
  

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

• Encountering the Face of Forgiveness

• Contemplating the Holy Family
  

Peace, Blessings!
Melissa

Abundant Blessings: Home and more!

It's been sort of a red-letter month. (Or should I say a red-letter year?) My husband and I closed on our house, celebrated our baby girl's first birthday, Francois Kiemde was sworn in as a US Citizen, and just last night, we threw our first party, of what, I can imagine might be many.

RED. LETTER. TIMES. People!

My heart swells considering all that has occurred in our brief marriage and life together, all that has had to happen for us to be right here in this place. In a new dwelling. With beautiful girls that round out our family and expand the love we give and receive. Me, blogging for nuns in north Minneapolis, married to a baker from Burkina Faso, West Africa, and living in an old house in the Lex Ham neighborhood raising a family. If I ever, in my wildest imaginations could have fathomed that at 42 years of age, in June of 2011, that my life would look like this, I would have laughed heartily and said, "No way!"

But here we are.

And God is good.

Last night's soire is something that marks for me the flurry of life since my 40th birthday. (After selling my home of 15 years, going to Africa for 6 weeks, volunteering at my parish and finishing a book for teachers, returning to the public classrooms I left as a researcher, then meeting my husband, getting married 8 months later, and having a baby girl. It's been a whirlwind). Last night's party was truly a sort of ushering in, and anchoring of this new phase of life: marriage and motherhood, with a definite tribute to the abundance of love and support my husband and I have known in creating a home together.

Nuns were here. New neighbors came. Old arts education colleagues emerged. Our parenting friends and mentors joined us with their tikes. Fellow African and French allies honored us with their presence. Longtime loves convened with food, drink and stories. We were surrounded by a groundswell of good spirited people moving throughout our home: singing, drinking, dining on grilled yummies, being agents of love and blessings.

In short: it rocked.

Twenty four hours later, I need to just mark the fullness of it all, in this simple way, composing a post of gratitude. I extend this note to all who were able to join Francois, Marguerite and I in person at 1196 Selby, and say "thank you" to those who have been prayerfully blessing us from afar. We know and feel your love and support.

I'm really not sure any of these good things in our life would be happening without such a community of friends and people around us.

So: Thank you!

On behalf of Francois, Marguerite, and myself:
Love!

***

(Stay tuned for more pix!)

Celebrating a Door: Meditation on Home-Closing

We are trying to close on a house. Trying, I tell you. This is our first home as a family, and it is no small thing. The dwelling proper; the process of purchasing it; the path leading up to and through this very moment: none of it is without beauty, intensity, frustration and grace.

Our offer on the home was formally accepted on Ash Wednesday. We planned to close Easter Monday; the 40 days in between were not lost on me as a sort of prayerful opportunity to journey through Lent to this new dwelling, new way of life, so-to-speak, right? Acknowledging this alignment of purchasing the home with a Catholic, Christian journey toward Easter was silly initially; but at this juncture, let me tell you: it is crucial that I have this season to draw on, as I moment-to-moment, work to make my way through to the end and trust that a new life is here!

We were slated to close Monday. Easter Monday, as I said. The hour passed, however, when we were to be at the Title company. Underwriting still had our file late that afternoon, and we were not cleared to even close! (Confession: in some dark, scary part of our minds, a lingering thought existed that our financing would fall through, that we wouldn't actually be able to purchase this house. Why book a moving truck? Why pack a box? It was dark, I tell you.) But the hour passed, and around 5pm on Monday, we were given a list of a few more "To-Do's" so that we could close on Wednesday. Hooray!

****

It's Wednesday evening friends, as I write this, and let me tell you: we still do not have the keys to our house! But let me relay what has happened in the meantime.

Francois and I received a tiny gift in the wake of the delay, a gift that I'm happy to share with each of you.

In lieu of today's planned 2pm closing meeting, I went to the property with our realtor, Arlo, to check on the updated repair items. (We had requested a few things be addressed in our purchase agreement and wanted to follow up on them.) There, at the house, we had a surprise, when we met the carpenter responsible for doing 90% of the renovation work on the property. Jack is his name. Lovely fellow. Jack had stories about the house, its original layout and some of the changes they made to improve the place. ("Did you know the main floor had a full bathroom, but the door was right off the kitchen?" and "The back entryway used to be so narrow, you had to pass through sideways." and "They converted it from radiator to forced air heat and put in these vents." and "Let me show you how to get furniture up the third floor staircase." These were stories and information we wouldn't necessarily have ever been privy to without this chance meeting, eh?)

One of the frustrations around the renovation work that was completed was the realization that the original door to the basement was thrown away. We were informed, during the inspection phase of this process, that this door was long gone. As the new owners, with a small crawling child, we were put on a path to finding a new "salvaged door" or having one made especially to fit this unique space. (Menards estimated this cost initially between $300 and $400 - without the mill work completed.) We were set to ordering a custom made one - again for our daughter's safety, when I met Jack, today.

I asked him, "Hey, by any chance, do you know what happened to this door off the kitchen?"

He hemmed and hawed a bit, and then said, "Well, I think it might be in a dumpster on Burlington Street."

Of course!

Forty five minutes later, belly deep in renovation debris, (house siding, pink carpeting, kitchen cupboards, mountain dew cans, a fire place rack) someplace over in East St. Paul, Jack put his hands on the missing door! We wiped it down, put it in my car, and returned it to the porch of the property.

Had the house closed on time, would I ever have met this person? Would I have learned of the previous layouts? Would I have discovered the plumbing changes and trim "tricks" that this carpenter employed? Gleaned his sense of craftsmanship and pride in his work? No.

It was a gift! A "door" on many levels, don't you think?

****

For the record: I think this process of closing on a home is stressful for every single person involved. Everyone. From the loan officers to title people, agents, the underwriters, to say nothing of the seller and buyers, friends, family, people standing by to help. But in the midst of it all -- circumstances that feel jarring, violent at times with the anger, anxiety, frustration, uncertainty -- there's something awesome at work...

Do you agree?

Stay tuned for scenes from the next instillation of this Easter saga!

Contemplatively yours,
Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

Love: The Biological Directive

My friend Pat Black posted these words on my facebook page this morning. I have to share them with more people. I plan to return and comment later. After I shower. And tend to household chores.

Humberto Maturano is a biologist. I love this guy's mind and what he brings to the understanding of the living. He describes love as a biological directive. He describes love as separate entities charged with their own self maintenance and life as joining and tying their individual maintenance with that of anothers. He suggests that in the evolution of complex beings, anything that is more than one cell, that love is the force that joined them. One can not move forward in life without the other's well being and maintenance also moving forward. Our edges of self are no longer an intact barrier to other. So I now think of failed love affairs as ones that could not bring this third being into life. This place where they overlap and become one. This new place that brings sustenance and the maintenance of being to two instead of one.

Maturano views this as a physiological relationship. He is not viewing it through a emotional lens since it is basic to life not just mammals.

Thoughts? Responses? I welcome them!

Teeth

Ms. Kiemde is cutting teeth -- four to be specific. Her top front teeth are coming in, followed by two tiny pearly whites flanking each side. Are they incisors? Eye teeth? I'm not certain of the proper names for these cuspids, but I am certain of what they are inspiring in my almost eleven-month old baby girl. I am observing new behaviors in this child. A new level of cranky. Fiesty. Furious. Feeling her power. Do you remember what your gums cracking open felt like? Having our insides split a bit to make way for new growth: it's difficult. The surface itches, aches, throbs. We bleed when we get new teeth.

I think the same might be said for most developmental processes in all humans. Teething is akin to growing, to adopting new ways of being; it's learning. Just as it is difficult to literally "birth" new teeth, I believe it is as hard for us to make way for any new thing to come forward in our lives. We itch. Ache. Throb. Maybe bleed a bit, too, in some regard.

Today, my prayers are for any and all who are teething - literally and figuratively. I am praying for babies, adults, teens, elders. I am holding images of new cuspids and precious gums in my child's mouth along with the way I am learning to practice being calm when I'm angry; a smile and deep breath are often just as difficult to come forward as these teeth.

I hope this finds you with patience for all that is trying to break the surface; I send good thoughts for all that is trying to emerge and become a helpful, visible new part of your being.

Happy Contemplating!
Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde,
Visitation Companion,
Mom, Wife, Lover, Writer, Contemplative at Work

Marguerite's Speech

Your baby's ability to vocalize is improving, and he may say his first word any time now. - BabyCenter

Ms. Kiemde is ten and a half months old and knocking our socks off!

In the past week, she has started to repeat the word "Daddy" -- incessantly. These consonants come easily to her, compared with the "M's" in say, her name, my name, and MOMMA!! It's all good, and highly entertaining. She has uttered audibly and distinctly the word "momma" on two occasions. Two, count them:

1. Whilst trying to teach Marguerite not to throw her food or utensils all on the floor when she's done, or bored, I instead invited her to "hand me nicely" the object in question. Last Sunday, during our first attempt at this behavior guidance, following Mag's 2nd tossing of her spoon, I picked up the object, placed it back on her high chair tray and said, "Can you give it to momma?" Jody Tigges was sitting next to us. Maggie took her spoon and with a big smile, put it sweetly in my hand and said, "Momma!" I about died. Ms. Tigges was a witness. I tried not to respond in an overly dramatic way, but said, "Thank you." and smiled. I believe Maggie and I were both grinning ear to ear.

It was our first request/ response "dialogue" or "conversation" - where it seemed she understood clearly my query and I got clearly - on two levels- her comprehension through spoken and physical gestures.

PARTY TIME!

2. Last night in the car, coming home from a visit to our new home, Maggie was practicing her daddy speech. As a way to let her know I heard her, and as a way to participate in the conversation, I was repeating back her syllables, this time, pronouncing "daddy" with various emphasis and alternatively, singing it. In turn, Marguerite played with her pronunciations, even becoming melodic in her expression, following my soprano song of "daaaadddy". Following a pause in the middle of the "daddy" litany, she then said clearly, "MOMMA." Our friend Ann Shallbetter was in the car and I think was nearly as excited as I was by this surprise in the conversation. It's so great to have a witness!

By the way, Marguerite has been repeating proudly this game of "can you give it to momma?" at almost every play interaction/ meal. She has been so proud of herself, beaming at the interaction, and then enthusiastic to repeat the gesture.

We are in love.

For those of you who haven't seen our little pumpkin lately, (or on Facebook) I hope you enjoy these recent snapshots posted. One is with her godmother, Marianna, (above right) and then a few are from last weekend's play date with Geert Bennaars-Mawanda. Smile!

Mealtime!

Who doesn't covet a sippy cup?

Toys!

On Sanctuary: A Poem by Nikki Giovanni

by Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde, Visitation Companion

Art Sanctuary
by Nikki Giovanni

I would always choose to be the person running
rather than the mob chasing
I would prefer to be the person laughed at
rather than the teenagers laughing
I always admired the men and women who sat down
for their rights
And held in disdain the men and women who spat
on them
Everyone deserves Sanctuary a place to go where you are
safe
Art offers Sanctuary to everyone willing
to open their hearts as well as their eyes

“Art Sanctuary” by Nikki Giovanni, from Quilting the Black-Eyed Pea. © Harper Perennial, 2002. (buy now)

Today’s poem from The Writer’s Almanac speaks to me as prayer. In critical response fashion, I take note of lines, phrases, images that stand out:

person running
mob
laughing teenagers
sitting down for rights
spit
art
sanctuary
open hearts and eyes

I am reminded of the summer night I saw a man running out from behind the neighbor’s across from St. Jane House in north Minneapolis followed by another person carrying a gun. The poem takes me to stories of pre-1964 southern lunch counters where people with brown skin were not allowed to eat. Simultaneously, reading this, I recall being an awkward thirteen-year old in the seventh grade and feeling the jeers of 8th grade elders (Lisa, Mary, Steph, Jamie?). I can see movie stills in my mind’s eye of Harvey Milk being assassinated as San Francisco’s first openly gay city official. I sit and imagine a beleaguered and weary Christ on Good Friday. (He was spat upon, right?) I note the way the poem provides a through-line of text for these anachronistic memories, moments.

I appreciate Ms. Giovanni’s words. I am thankful for the pride, sorrow, fear, anger and elation that her piece evokes.

I wonder how the author’s compassion was born? (It is compassion she shows in the poem, yes?) What did she see in her life or experience that inspired an alignment with the victim, the tortured, the other? What particular cruelties does she know first hand? I want to ask her how she makes sense of suffering. I want to know what art in particular has provided safety, sanctuary for her. Could she have been sitting in front of a painting that calmed her breathing, opened her heart? (Or listening to song?) I wonder if she’d let me sit alongside her? I want to know if she’s ever seen Brother Mickey’s “Windsock Visitation“? Has she ever contemplated the respite extended by Mary and Elizabeth?

I want to know a lot reading this poem. I am grateful for the places Nikki Giovanni takes me with her words. It is my prayer, today. This poem is a sanctuary.

Amen.

“What do you want for me, God?”: An Introduction to My Vocation Story

by Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde, Vis Companion

Note: the following was originally written for and published at the Visitation Monastery Minneapolis blog site. This is the first in a series of vocation narratives, or memoirs, offered by Melissa here.

Vocation does not mean a goal that I pursue. It means a calling that I hear. Before I can tell my life what I want to do with it, I must listen to my life telling me who I am. I must listen for the truths and values at the heart of my own identity, not the standards by which I must live—but the standards by which I cannot help but live if I am living my own life. – Parker Palmer in “Let Your Life Speak”

We all have a vocation. Each and every one of us. Whether we are religious or lay members of the world, we have a calling --something we have wrestled with consciously, or unconsciously, and found ourselves immersed in --- a "life telling us who we are," as Parker Palmer says. These days, I'm thinking a lot about my vocation and what my life has told, tells me.

In the Spring of 2002, whilst teaching at North Community High School in North Minneapolis, my life was sort of “screaming” at me. Immersed in a high poverty setting, (where I lost half of my students every year), attending to the development of relevant and hopefully inspiring curriculum for my students --as well as the content of their individual life narratives, gifts, skills and areas for growth - alongside my own -- well, let's just say I was a bit achy and itchy in my soul for what might be next. I wasn't wholly satisfied with my work in the classroom and the system in which I was operating; so I started writing letters to God. In these journal letters, I described my circumstances as a public school educator and I posed questions. "What do you want for me, God? What do you want me to do? Where do you want me to go? You know my heart, my longings and my desire to serve Love. Please guide me."

I was called to be an educator, without a doubt in my mind or heart. But surely, God would not want me to continue in a fashion where I was daily filled with despair -- left with less hope and offering a diminishing amount of love, promise, and life-giving energy to myself and others?

In my writing and beseeching, there are stops and starts, almost self-conscious pauses. Was I feeling badly for the outpouring of words on paper? Was my prose too filled with complaint or dissatisfaction as I described the conditions of my life? Surely, I had been so abundantly blessed in my birth and journey to date -- given so much from loving parents and in and through my catholic faith, educational opportunities and work -- that I wouldn't be abandoned. (Was that my fear – rejection or abandonment from God?) I couldn't stop short in my writing and queries to the Divine, I had to continue in my prayers wondering about my next steps in this journey as a woman of love on the earth.

In an entry recorded on Saturday, June 1, 2002, I wrote, "I know if I were born a man, you would have me be a priest. Because I am a woman, do you want me to pursue becoming a nun?"

I remember writing the question down, and then immediately closing my journal. It was a terrifying notion, this nun business. First of all, I wanted to be married and have kids. I loved men and dreamed of partnering with one and having a child or two someday. (I longed to parent - beyond the scope of the classroom, beyond working with and nurturing the beautiful young people in my classroom who I was privileged to teach. I longed for giving birth and the gift of raising a babe from infancy to adulthood.)

In an entry recorded on Saturday, June 1, 2002, I wrote, "I know if I were born a man, you would have me be a priest. Because I am a woman, do you want me to pursue becoming a nun?" -Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

When I considered my calling to the priesthood, it felt so giant, real, awesome, but seemingly beyond my gender -- according to the church powers that be. I had reconciled my desire to preach --to lead a congregation in contemplative, prayerful thought and action -- through my work as a classroom teacher. My love for scripture and desire to break open sacred texts for inspiration and life lessons translated well, on most days, to my tasks as an English educator. Considering my recorded journal question, “[D]o you want me to pursue becoming a nun?” I wondered, too, how I could turn to another religious vocation because of the seeming limitations of my gender? I simply thanked God for making me female, so that I never had to choose between marriage and a life as a celibate priest. I set my journal down and went about my life.

For the record: At the time, I didn't really know I was doing discernment work. At this juncture, I had never even heard the word "discernment." But that would all change.

On Sunday, June 2, 2002, following mass at the Church of St. Philip in North Minneapolis, I was standing up on the alter, next to the piano with the rest of the choir members I sang with, when a small woman with gray hair and wearing a large silver cross approached me.

"Melissa, Hello. I'm Sister Katherine of the Visitation Monastery of North Minneapolis. We are having a 'Come and See' weekend for single young women. We are wondering if you want to come and see about being a nun."

I about fell over. I was wrapping microphone cord around my arm at the time, and believe I almost tripped at Sister's invitation.

Not only is God not subtle with me, but my life circumstances have never been, as they speak loudly trying to get my attention. Of course I would put my query out to the Beloved regarding my vocation, and of course I would receive this direct response! But the very next day? Whew.

*****************************************************************************

Stay tuned for the unfolding of this vocation narrative, as I relay my discernment process, given the entrance of the Visitation Sisters in my life.

Humility and Gentleness: A Reflection on Scripture*

by Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde, Vis Companion

I am preparing for 12pm mass this Friday, October 22, 2010, at the Visitation Monastery. Goodness, how I look forward to this experience in the living room of the Vis Sister's home! It's not like any other service I am able to attend. (I have written of this in the past.) Today, I turn my mind and heart to the scripture readings for this upcoming liturgy. I consider how this text is speaking to me.

I slow my mind down. I read. I work to defer judgment. I make note of lines that stand out. I connect these words to lived experiences. I register what emotion they elicit. I wonder to myself. I pose questions. I speculate on what Love's message is for me. I consider my faith community and possibilities of this text for the world at large. It's a prayerful, critical response process to the Bible, this holy and sacred literature.

I notice.....from Paul's letter to the Ephesians:

"live in a manner worthy of the call you have received,
with all humility and gentleness
preserve the unity of the spirit
through the bond of peace"

I notice....from the Gospel according to Luke:

[Jesus said to the crowds]:

“Why do you not judge for yourselves what is right?
If you are to go with your opponent before a magistrate,
make an effort to settle the matter on the way;

When Paul speaks of living in a manner worthy of the call a person has received -- with a humble and gentle nature, my mind goes initially to St. Francis de Sales, our co-founder. St. Francis so beautifully exemplified gentleness in his life and expressed his motivation for living his faith out this way. He spoke of this virtue as flowing from and modeled by our Trinitarian God:

"I would rather account to God for too great gentleness than for too great severity. God the Father is the Father of mercy; God the Son is a Lamb; God the Holy Ghost is a Dove;" -St. Francis de Sales

Next, Desmond Tutu flashes in my mind. I am reminded of how struck I was in the Spring of 2008, when I saw him on two occasions speaking in the Twin Cities: his sweet, spirited, and simple demeanor. He exemplified humility and gentleness, a peaceful presence in the midst of some charged circumstances and challenging questions - posed to him in the large venues in which he spoke. "What do you think of Black on Black crime?" asked a young man in the Red Wing juvenile detention center. "What are your feelings or thoughts about President Bush?" asked the contentious (?) MPR host, Kerry Miller. Oh, goodness! To each, the archbishop leaned in, smiled and offered a response from his first hand experience that was kind and thoughtful. I can only imagine St. Francis' thoughts about Archbishop Tutu's responses, which were so poised, honorable, and filled with integrity, humility, and characteristically gentle humor. (But this story is an entirely other blog.)

I hear St. Paul's words as the writer extends them: "preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace" and consider the South African Noble Peace Prize winner an exemplary model of what Paul writes.

My heart leaps a bit thinking how connected Luke's words are in the Gospel reading to those scribed to the Ephesians. The peace process that we know of in our souls, in our most core, essential spirit, strikes me as what Christ wants to remind us of, and what Paul invites us to align with, given our blessed and unique calls.

"You know how to interpret the appearance of the earth and the sky;" Jesus says, "Why do you not know how to interpret the present time?" and “Why do you not judge for yourselves what is right?"

Christ validates our intuitive knowing, alongside of, or stemming from, our way of moving through the world based on our observations. And then He challenges us to apply these ways of knowing - and being - to our communications in charged and challenging spaces.

"[M]ake an effort to settle the matter," He instructs. It feels connected to Paul's validation of our vocations, our callings here, as Christians, as people of love, justice, peace: "[L]ive in a manner worthy of the call you have received... bearing with one another through love."

Do you know of the Truth and Reconciliation hearings of a post-apartheid South Africa? Can you recall the role Archbishop Tutu played in these public sessions where victim and perpetrator convened, crimes were confessed, and forgiveness extended? Years of violence, civil rights violations, racist separatist laws were acknowledged. Human rights violators began to look compassionately at their own cruel actions. Can you fathom this kind of work abroad? How about in your own community? Does your imagination and faith allow for practical applications of this kind of merciful, honorable, and gentle work? In your church? Home? Your own heart? Do you believe you have a calling to be such a person of peace, justice, reflection and reconciliation?

I stop here and smile, my heart full of possibilities where these texts are concerned, and how they might be realized in my immediate life. Any grievance I have filed against another, any angry action I have taken against another, I have room to see. I close this reflection imagining St. Francis' spirit alive and guiding me, the sweet laugh and peaceful model of a living Desmond Tutu inspiring me. I will continue to try to live my call as a woman of hope, peace, justice, prayer, and action.

How does this scripture speak to you today?

Happy Contemplating!

*This was originally written and posted at the Visitation Monastery Minneapolis blog site.

Speaking to the Fears of Same-Sex Love and Recent Suicides: A Prayerful Response

The past month's headlines reporting the suicides of young people - who have chosen to end their lives because they are perceived as gay - has caused the deepest sorrow in my heart. I have been praying about how to respond.

My prayer is informed by my own life experience. My best friend committed suicide six weeks before we graduated from high school. The death of Greg Schulte has shaped almost the whole of my life, career, vocation on this earth to date. I have worked in many ways - since the events of March 28, 1987 - to be a person of great love, using the gifts I believe God gave me to inspire others in their life journeys; I have worked to cultivate young and old people's perceptions: to see and believe in themselves as beautifully, perfectly made and with a great purpose on this planet. Namely: to love.

When young people kill themselves in such alarming rates, I am called again to revisit my vocation, my response, my work.

My brain, heart, spirit go to my daughter. I look into the face and eyes of Marguerite Marie Kiemde: this beautiful five month old child conceived by François Kiemde and me. I don't want her journey as a young person to include such encounters with self-loathing, hate and fear that inspire such death. I don't want Marguerite - or any of her peers - to encounter the taunting, teasing, tormenting because they might be viewed as homosexual. I don't want any more young people to want to die and to act violently on this desire to not want to continue living.

I try to go to the root of this horrible phenomenon of young people committing suicide. I pray about the best way to address this, transform it, see a way toward a life-giving and loving response and solution.

I read. I listen. I pray. I talk to friends and family who are gay and those who fear homosexuality, and judge same-sex love and relationships as sinful.

I hold the news of these suicides alongside the recent release and mailing of a DVD by our archbishop in Minnesota who is working to define and defend marriage as that natural and appropriate for heterosexual men and women. And I pray. I hear a larger message about a call to partner and commitment, delivered I believe with the most sincere of intentions -- as one extended in love -- but also conveying a message of diminishment to all gay men and women who love and respond to their call to partner. I feel diminished in hearing the message.

I try to hold the contradictions. I wonder about how these messages of our church are connected with the deaths of young people? Is it possible our church leaders are part of the root problem inspiring a desire to die?

Ellen De Generes spoke recently to the bullying of gay young people on her TV show. I wonder how much of a problem this hate of gay children is with just younger people taunting them, as compared with their parents, teachers, priests, elders sending equally hateful messages that torment?


"Respect the person" is a phrase uttered repeatedly by our church and community leaders about our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters. This is a form of the "hate the sin, love the sinner" mantra coming from a number of our Catholic priests and bishops, Christian leaders. And I have to say: It's simply not enough. I have to back up and challenge the sin that is being identified in the heart of homosexuals. I ask: "What is it? The sin of loving someone of the same gender? The sin is desire? The sin is attraction? The sin is acting on your desire to love and connect?"

I keep hearing Sr. Eileen Currie, my spiritual director at Sacred Heart Jesuit Retreat Center in Colorado: "Who do you think gave you your desires?" After a brief pause, she answered emphatically: "GOD!" I can hear all the non-procreative arguments about the root of this desire to physically love someone of the same gender being wrong. And I hold firm: That any intentional alignment with another, of any gender, honoring the intimate soul and being of that person, is nothing, save for a generative and loving action. Period. Heterosexual. Homosexual. Love begets love. It fuels and inspires our every waking moment. If it can be honored, seen, as in fact what it is: the most natural and beautiful gift God gave us. The sin of our leaders, teachers, adults, preachers, is not seeing this, in my humble opinion. We diminish and trample on the dignity and gifts of whole faction of God's creation. It's rampant in our society, culture. And, then, it leads to this. Death.

Why does anyone want to live when all they see and experience are messages of how bad they are? When they are told their call to love is inferior, or rather, intrinsically evil and wrong?

I'm with Ellen. I'm with so many trying to create space to dialogue, educate, be in relationship, transform this fear-space and culture that perpetuates the desire of a person to die. I don't want this walk of fear, shame, death, tragedy for Marguerite, or anyone else's child. I pray for Love.

In peace and prayers,
Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

On Immigration Labor: Colbert Quoting Matthew 25

I wonder who caught this on C-Span 3, (or YouTube or Facebook or any television news source...?) It's Stephen Colbert speaking at the House Judiciary Subcommittee on Immigration, Citizenship, and Border Security. In the following excerpt from the transcript, he shares why he's there:

"At the request of Congresswoman Lofgren, I am here today to share my experience as an entertainer turned migrant worker and to shed light on what it means to truly take one of the millions of jobs filled by immigrant labor. They say that you truly know a man after you’ve walked a mile in his shoes, and while I have nowhere near the hardships of these struggling immigrants, I have been granted a sliver of insight."

Mr. Colbert had prepared comments which you can see and read in their entirety. It's this moment, when he's asked why he has chosen to come and talk about this topic today, that I find truly inspiring.

"people who don't have any power...we invite them to come here, and then ask them to leave...an interesting contradiction...the least of my brothers...."

My friend Bridget O'Brien posted this on Facebook; again, it moved me. (Bridget is a Notre Dame theology doctoral student, Maggie's godfather - Zac Willette's friend.) This video gave me pause, as any Colbert work does. I wondered watching it:

"Is this real? A comedic skit? More of Colbert's brilliant satire?"

After watching more closely: I realized this was citizen-smart-Christian-catholic-Colbert acting according to his conscience. And that rocks.

Thoughts?

Happy Contemplating!

Seasons of Love: Today's Prayer

Amen.

Tending to our Interiors: Introducing Inspiration from Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM

Note: The following was written for the Visitation Monastery North Minneapolis blog. I post it here to invite readers of "QueenMab Contemplates..." to follow this series on Fr. Rohr.

"There is nothing to prove and nothing to protect. I am who I am and it's enough." — Richard Rohr

After I left my ten-plus year post in urban education, I spent a year cleaning people's houses. I got paid to tidy, scour, tend to the dust and grime that we all accumulate in our living spaces. For twenty four hours a week, I would scrub, sweep, polish a family's home or single person's pad, making my way through bathrooms, kitchens, dens, bedrooms, laundry rooms, office spaces, attics, basements. It was privileged work in many ways - as I was privy to the interiors of others' "sanctuaries" - so to speak. I came to think of this period in literal and figurative ways; I was cleaning out not only the inside of other humans' homes, but tending to my own interior spaces: of heart, spirit, mind. It was sacred work on many levels.

During this time, I listened to a lot of Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM, founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation, on CD. I'd go into these sacred spaces, broom and bucket in hand, and -- (if it wasn't a Bob Marley kind of morning, or Neil Diamond flashback afternoon that I was having) -- I'd pop in a recording of the Franciscan priest from New Mexico. Viola! I was on retreat while at work. Every action of soap and sponge and elbow-pushing-arm, became a contemplative, active prayer of sorts. I was, in the words of Fr. Rohr's, putting to use the most operative word in his organization's title, being a person of contemplation AND action. What I encountered in my heart and mind whilst listening to "Jesus and Buddha: Paths to Awakening" or "The Great Chain of Being: Simplifying our Lives" conference or "True Self/False Self" made its way literally through my interior life and into exterior action.

During this year of prayer and manual physical labor, I made significant changes in my life. I worked to simplify or downsize in all respects of property and ego; I let go of everything I thought I knew for certain; I felt freer and more happy than I had ever been - as I cleaned and contemplated and wrote blogs as prayerful prose for the public. It was a revolutionary year of my life.

I've recently become re-acquainted with Fr. Rohr, as a friend hooked me up with his daily meditations sent via email from the Center for Action and Contemplation. It's exhilarating to re-discover this spiritual teacher/wise counselor and touchstone. As a prolific writer and speaker, Fr. Rohr has many books and CD's published to inspire our lives; he's not unlike the Visitation's co-founder, St. Francis de Sales, or the many holy people who inspire our hearts, minds, souls, and bodies.

In the days, weeks, months to come, I will be re-posting some of Fr. Richard Rohr's words as they so move me; I will be working to apply them, through a Salesian lens, to my own life. I invite you to join me!

Peace to all this day.

Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde,
Vis Companion

Baptism: A Call to Commitment

The following reflection from Fr. Henri Nouwen is a nice reminder of how our baptismal calls invite a commitment and follow through to live love and faith in community, in relationships -- but, first and foremost, within ourselves. How are we committed to our own hearts? Our own minds? Our own gifts? How do we honor these things that God/ Love/ Creator has given us? How does an act of honoring the Divine within become an external expression, honoring the Divine without? When we recognize our sacred centers, how can we not see the sacred center of each and every other being? And when we are doing that, how can we avoid peace, reconciliation, transformation of any woeful circumstances? Our baptisms into this larger earth community, into this larger church of all creation, invite us to continually find love and beauty in all that surrounds us, and seek ways to honor and be sanctified to one another. .... This is my prayer today, as I consider baptism, parenting, my role and work within community..

In Peace, Blessings,
Melissa

Baptism, a Call to Commitment

Baptism as a way to the freedom of the children of God and as a way to a life in community calls for a personal commitment. There is nothing magical or automatic about this sacrament. Having water poured over us while someone says, "I baptise you in the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit," has lasting significance when we are willing to claim and reclaim in all possible ways the spiritual truth of who we are as baptised people. In this sense baptism is a call to parents of baptised children and to the baptised themselves to choose constantly for the light in the midst of a dark world and for life in the midst of a death-harbouring society. - Fr. Henri Nouwen

The Baptism of Marguerite Marie Kiemde: Annointing Love "Priest, Prophet, King!"

Some days being Catholic is tough. Claiming membership in a larger faith community that's hard on women, diminishes gay and lesbian brothers and sisters, and has a whole bunch of scandal stemming from a secretive, hierarchical male-dominated structure where sex abuse of children has taken place: Ah! Please! It makes me want to run. But this is my church. This is the community of humans and traditions and rituals and beliefs I was born into that I find, at its core, is the best Love-Mystery-Truth-Transformation-thing going. So I stay in the church with my husband, and I work to create and see realized the kind of faith community that I want to be part of.

Enter: Marguerite Marie Kiemde's Baptism! On Sunday, August 8, 2010, François, big sister Gabby and I, along with our larger catholic faith community at the Church of St. Philips in North Minneapolis, welcomed our baby girl into this fold. And it was a blessed and inspiring experience -- reaffirming my own baptismal call to love and live within a human community, consciously seeing the Divine Light of Love within all.

What follows are photos taken by our dear friends Brian Mogren and Michael Benham. We hope they convey a fraction of the Spirit and promise that we experienced on Sunday, and that the captions might hint at what were the most inspiring elements of the day for me.

Enjoy!
Love,
Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde and Family

Presiding guest priest number one from the University of St. Thomas
(There were four priests on the alter this day.
Perhaps to top the three presiding at our wedding? Or to witness Ms. Maggie's welcoming?
*chuckle*
Blessings! )

Pre-service picture snapping

Baby K gets shy?

Our Kiemde Clan: François, Melissa, Marguerite, Gabriela

Putting on the baptismal bonnet

Tuning into the baptismal rite

Fr. Jules Omba Omalanga begins the ritual

The St. Philip's Kids Choir, lead by Nadege Ouevi, sings to welcome in Marguerite Marie

Getting her rest in before the big moment
(And completing a bowel movement?
This child will go to baptism in the fullness of her blessed humanity!
God loves us in all of our stinkiness. :-))

Tracing the sign of the cross

I cannot be any more pleased to hold this child and participate in this liturgy.

How beautiful are these young people?
A key part of this service for me centers around hearing the voices of children singing.
A choir that Marguerite will be part of - someday!

Annointed "Priest, Prophet and King!" Yes!
Hope in our church.
(Can you imagine our daughter's future?
Your own in any faith community?)

In the arms of Godmother Marianna Toth

Love.

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit!

Embracing the Light!
(A favorite moment in the service,
when François puts the candle in our littlest girl's hands,
and she won't let go.)

What do they see? So many precious eyes!
Including photographer Michael Benham

Singing "Wade in the Water."

Melissa's spiritual director, Sr. Mary Margaret, VHM
(Another honorary Godmother.)

Dear friend, Vis Companion, photographer, Brian Mogren

Toni and Geert Bennaars-Mawanda

From Left to Right: Godfather Zac Willette, Godmother Marianna Toth, Gabby Kiemde, François Kiemde, Melissa and daughter Marguerite Kiemde

Welcomed into this larger faith family of priests, prophets, kings, queens, and lots of nuns!
Left to Right: Marianna, Zac, Gabby, François, Melissa and Maggie, Sr. Mary Frances, VHM; Sr. Jill Underdahl, CSJ; Sr. Joanna O'Meara, VHM; Sr. Mary Margaret, VHM; Sr. Mary Virginia, VHM; Sr. Karen, VHM; and Sr. Jean.

And again: In full color!
Left to Right: Marianna, Zac, Gabby, François, Melissa and Maggie, Sr. Mary Frances, VHM; Sr. Jill Underdahl, CSJ; Sr. Joanna O'Meara, VHM; Sr. Mary Margaret, VHM; Sr. Mary Virginia, VHM; Sr. Karen, VHM; and Sr. Jean

Another new member of the catholic community at St. Philip's:
Nina Nakagaki!

Maggie recognizes someone with her kind of humor: a goofy Michael Benham.

Embraced and smiling by her Visitation Sister, Mary Virginia

Singing and faith ensemble sisters Toni, Ann, Melissa with babies Geert and Maggie

New moms in the community: Can we trace the cultural lines present in this photograph?
There's a child here born in Guatemala; another of Ugandan/Kenyan/Dutch descent; one hailing from Asian-Nebraskan parents; and finally a West African-European-Midwestern American infant.

LOVE!