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In my July 9 post titled “Not All Who Wonder Are Lost” I stated my intention to expand my volunteer duties at a local senior residence run by the Little Sisters of the Poor. After the sudden death of Margaret, one of the women I had been visiting, I sent a note of condolence to her sister Mary, a resident of the same facility. I had every intention of visiting Mary to learn more about Margaret, who had been a dedicated pediatric nurse and tireless volunteer in the years before Alzheimer’s eroded her fine mind and depleted her energy.

Like many fine intentions, this one was derailed by life’s minor complications. I was out of the country, I got sick, I was trying to get a new business launched…And all the time I was questioning my decisions and second guessing my abilities. My lagging self-esteem was not improved by a chiding nudge to do even more in my volunteering. I kept guility telling myself, “next week.” My conscience was especially pricked last week after picking up a copy of Fr.  Michael E. Gaitley’s Consoling the Heart of Jesus, in which he writes, “…we console the heart of Jesus not only when we trust in him but also when we show mercy to our neighbor.” That Sunday I vowed to drop in on Mary as soon as I could.  Then came Monday, then Tuesday, then Wednesday…

Then Mary called me.

She had kept my note of condolence. I don’t know how she got my phone number. I’m assuming she asked one of the nuns to retrieve it from the volunteer directory. She left a message on my home voice mail saying that my note showed an understanding of Margaret that saw past the Alzheimer’s to the real value of her sister’s life. And could I come by and visit? I returned her call as soon as I got the message and made a date for the next day. Mary didn’t chastise me for not coming sooner. She just genuinely wanted to see me as soon as I could come.

Mary is an absolute delight. Her sweet disposition undoubtedly made her a wonderful special ed teacher, a career she held for over 30 years. She showed me pictures of Margaret as a young and middle aged woman and told me about her sister’s dreams, aspirations, and personal demons. Neither sister ever married, but had shared a home as long as they were capable of living independently. Even in their final years they shared the same residence under the care of the Little Sisters. I can’t imagine the depth of Mary’s loss. My little note had apparently done something to console her heart, and the visit apparently did more.

But as much as she wanted to tell me about Margaret, Mary wanted to know about me. She was genuinely interested in my family, my marriage, my career, and my art. I brought copies of my paintings and she praised them again and again. More than once she smiled broadly and said, “You’ve got it made.” Amen to that. And how wonderful to be with someone who rejoiced for me and affirmed my new direction. That was consolation to my heart in a time when I was second guessing major life changes.

We parted with a kiss and I promised to visit again  next week. I don’t see that promise as a duty to fulfill, but as an event to be happily anticipated. And I don’t believe for a minute that Mary’s call came out of the blue. The book, the phone call — the timing can’t be coincidence. Father Gaitley quotes the Blessed John Paul II, “‘An act of merciful love is only really such when we are deeply convinced at the moment that we perform it that we are at the same time receiving mercy from the people who are accepting it from us.'”

The heart that consoles is itself consoled.

Wishing you a space for grace in your life today,

Kate

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This is my first blog post on my new website! I’m grateful that this inaugural post can be on the subject of renewal.

The past few weeks have been challenging. I’ve been beset by the busy-ness of business: launching a website, creating inventory, sending out marketing material, compiling mailing lists for more marketing material, logging expenses, negotiating on-line bank accounts…the list goes on and on. For someone who has spent 32 years in the classroom, this is a steep learning curve. Technology and I have always been little more than nodding acquaintances, and now, it seems, we must become daily  partners. Many is the time this month when I have pushed away from the computer in frustration and self-doubt. Not only have I doubted my ability to “run” a business, but I also felt I had allowed my true intention to become obscured. The name of my company is My Mother’s Grace. How do I remain in and aware of grace when I am ticking items off an endless to-do list and numbers swarm in front of my eyes like gnats? I slumped at the computer, my eyes were crossed, my vision lost.

Fortunately, perhaps ironically, the remedy came from a business connection.

Through a Catholic business organization, of which I am a member, I learned of a Catholic women’s conference in my city. The conference emphasizes “Treasuring Womanhood” —  through a Marian perspective. Surely I would find something there to clear my sight and restore my vision.

Today’s conference included music, speakers, the Rosary, mass, adoration of the Eucharist – and, of course, lunch. There is something uplifting and sweet about hearing a chorus of women’s voices in praise and petition. There were women from all throughout the diocese in all age ranges, races, professions, and vocations. I saw women I knew and met women I would like to know better. During all parts of the day I had access to texts and music that glorified the Blessed Mother.

It was during the Rosary that I first began to feel truly peaceful and centered. In that setting I wasn’t ticking items off a to-do list. I was ticking off the beads of my French rosary, red wooden beads, carved in the shape of roses, a gift from my godmother.  The familiar prayers have been my anchor during my husband’s trips to the oncologist, my mother’s dying hours, and all those times, like today, when I needed to slow down the frenetic pace of the world and enter a place of peace. In fact, I consider the Rosary to be an actual place where I meet Our Lady and share sacred space with members of my family who now rest in the arms of God. But that’s a topic for another day.

Calmed and focused I entered into mass. As we began the Eucharist there was the expected movement. Over a hundred women poured  into the center aisle, ushered by members of the Knights of Columbus in full regalia, easily visible in the crowd by the white plumes on the tops of their hats. But as we continued our slow circular procession toward the feast, I thought I felt a different kind of movement in the crowd, an energy moving counter to the direction of the altar, as though it originated from the altar. In my mind’s eye I had an immediate vision of Christ moving among His sisters, rejoicing in their celebration, and stopping to whisper blessings in the ears of the faithful. A smile spread across my face as I imagined the grace of that blessing, so happy for those who would hear His voice. What might He say, I wondered. Words of encouragement; a promise of healing; confirmation of a secret yearning? What might Christ be saying to those lucky women for whom I was so glad?

Then I heard, softly, in my right ear, “I love you.”

Wishing you a space for grace in your life today,

Kate

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