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