Miracles, Meatballs and Sr. Mary Joan

I know everything, except what I don't know...

In our convent there is one nun who is particularly special to the postulants, (and just about everyone else who meets her).

This special nun’s name is Sr. Mary Joan.

She is 83 years old and even though she is constantly saying she does not know how much longer she will be alive, no one can quite believe this nun will not be around until the second coming of Jesus.

Sr. Mary Joan has the memory of a recent MIT graduate and the muscle power of an eighteen year old. I once found her carrying a large box of oranges into the elevator. When I insisted on carrying it for her, I almost fell over because it was so heavy. And despite her age, Sr. Mary Joan amazes all of the sisters with her detailed memory of the distant past and near present. It is as if she carries a movie reel of her life in her head and can fast forward and rewind at will.

Sr. Mary Joan is surrounded by sisters younger than her but she makes anyone working with her feel old and lazy. Her apostolic heart is as alive as ever. When we go out to visit parishes or travel on long trips we can count on her prayers for us. Her heart is with us every step of the way. She works harder than all of the postulants put together, constantly cleaning, cooking, organizing, and thinking up new projects for the apostolate.

My first introduction to Sr. Mary Joan was during my first few days of postulancy when I was struck down by a mysterious, stress-induced illness, (being introduced to religious life can do this to a person). I holed myself up in my room for several days, feeling terrible, eating little, feeling sorry for myself and staring at the wall. I can only imagine what the other sisters were thinking; I would have placed bets on whether the newbie would leave in one day or three. Sr. Mary Joan responded to the situation in what I now know is her customary way. She ambled around the kitchen as if she were my grandmother, carefully preparing a warm, revitalizing soup. When she brought me the soup, she looked at me with understanding, nonjudgmental eyes, promised me her prayers for my recovery and told me firmly that I would be up and around in no time. Something about the way she said it made me believe that it was true.

I am pretty sure all of the postulants would say that this incident is emblematic of the person Sr. Mary Joan is – warm, full of energy and vitality, always ready to go the extra mile, and ready to give a little extra encouragement to anyone who needs it .

Yes, Sr. Mary Joan is my biggest fan....

Perhaps the most endearing quality of Sr. Mary Joan is her love for Pope Benedict XVI. If you ask her where Pope Benedict is at any given time, she will reel off his schedule in minute detail as if she were paid to be his personal assistant. She knows her way around the Vatican web site better than anyone else alive, probably even the webmaster. And she changes the desktop picture on her computer daily to different scenes in the current life of the pope. If you want to know what the pope is up to you can either ask this tenacious nun or check her desktop.

It is due to Sr. Mary Joan's persistence that I have begun to read the pope’s homiles and Wednesday audiences more regularly. She even lent me his autobiography Milestones which I began warily and ended up not being able to put down. Our pope is amazing - humble and very straightforward, and not a tinge of self-righteousness or pride, (which I must say is particularly amazing in a man of such brilliance). It is said that when he writes he quotes the early Church Fathers without looking it up and it is only checked by an assistant after he is finished. I may very soon become the vice president of Sr. Mary Joan’s B16 fan club.

Sr. Mary Joan’s cooking skills are celebrated in convent and even in the greater St. Louis area. When Sr. Mary Joan does not cook pasta on her cooking day the postulants lament and wail as if present for the destruction of the city of Jerusalem. At our benefit dinner last year two people paid $600 just for the opportunity to eat her cooking. She never looks at a recipe, makes meatballs by the hundreds, and even prepares her tiramisu with decaf (blasphemy!) just for me so I won't stay up for hours cursing the enticing lure of tiramisu long into the night.

She is even responsible for some rather amazing miracles - reuniting an adopted son with his birth family in Italy for one. For more of this amazing story, check it out here.

Sr. Mary Joan has a true Pauline heart, being one of the first missionary sisters to bravely accept an assignment to the United States at the young age of 23. She knew no one and did not speak a word of English. When asked if she was homesick she responds, "I came here in obedience to God and my congregation so I could not regret it." She passes on the charism of our spiritual family simply by being her. Every once in a while she will casually mention the founder of our congregation Blessed James Alberione. When she does, all of the postulants eyes grow big and we carefully act like we are not too interested so she will not get embarrassed by our star struck faces and stop telling us stories.

Flowers at the Jubilee Celebration

Some have the notion that as religious sisters get older, they just get sweeter, more naïve, and less in touch with reality. I'll admit I had this fear in the back of my mind and wondered if religious life would make me into some kind of Stepford nun. But meeting Sr. Mary Joan has assured me that religious life does not make a person any less unique, spunky, and alive. She has shown me that a good religious can keep the fire of a good disciple of Jesus alongside the quiet gentleness of someone who has allowed their soul to be transformed by a life of loving Jesus in the Eucharist.

Sr. Mary Joan recently celebrated 60 years of religious life. Many of our friends came to celebrate her life and her long dedication to the Pauline work of evangelization through the media. We all hope and pray that her life will continue to give glory to God, and we will be able to enjoy her pasta and meatballs for many more years to come.

Congratulations Sr. Mary Joan. We all love you more than you can imagine.

Peace to all of our friends in this joyful season,

Theresa

I'm definitely not on the Eastcoast anymore...

"Chelsea...you need to get up... there's a tornado siren."

Groggily, I rolled over to see Carly's face peeking through my doorframe. I glanced at my clock as I sat up, now acutely aware of the shrill cry of the siren and the hail pelting against my window pane.

My clock glowed brightly: 2:45 AM

I looked back at Carly. "Sooo...what do we do?"
Also being a native of the East Coast, neither of us had ever experienced a tornado before. She looked back at me with a blank stare. "Umm.....I don't really know..."

So I rolled out of bed, threw on a sweatshirt and moccasins, and grabbed my phone as Carly went to go make sure everyone else was awake.

All the postulants congregated in the hallway, everyone half-asleep and slightly freaked out. Quickly we decided that the best plan of action was to head down to the basement. With the wind howling at the corners of the convent and the hail beating the side of the building, we made a quick descent down the back stairwell. Halfway down the stairs, the sirens stopped.
We all froze.
Someone broke the tense silence,"Is it over?"

After lingering a few more moments to listen, half of us decided it would be best to continue to the basement, and half of us decided to head back to bed, but keep an ear out for the weather.
I was part of the group that continued down to the basement.

Once we got to the study in the basement, we flipped on the tv and watched the images of swirling clouds flash on the screen accompanied by a man's calm voice. It seemed like such a contradiction; the whirling, chaotic, screaming winds overlaid by an meteorologist's annoyingly calm voice announcing a play-by-play of the tornado's actions.

I sat with the two other postulants who also trekked down the basement and watched and listened.
As I sat, I knew we weren't going to die because of this tornado...but I realized that if I was going to die somewhere, I was happy with where I was. Our life might not be glamorous or glitzy, but it is beautiful and full of so many graces. Everyday, I thank God for having called me here. That's not to say that this life doesn't have it's challenges and trials, but it's through those trying times that we learn to grow and trust so much more. I am happy where He has placed me and there's no where else I'd rather be...

It's amazing what a tornado at obscene hours of the morning can show you! :)

However, I would prefer to reflect on my life a little later in the day and without the blaring of tornado sirens... ;)


Have a blessed day!
-Chelsea

Orange Exchange

One afternoon, I brushed my teeth after lunch and then walked back into the dining room. (Not the most brilliant idea.) I had a few minutes before my shift at the bookcenter so I decided to have an orange. Have you ever eaten an orange after brushing your teeth?

toothpaste + orange = Not(a_good_combination)

Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking. I wonder if toothpaste was made to taste the way it does to prevent us from eating anything after brushing our teeth. Hmmm... Anyway, after eating that first piece, I didn't think I could eat any more of it. I thought about throwing away my orange but that would be wasteful. So I asked Theresa, who saw the disgusted face I made, if she wanted to have some of my orange. Now, I wasn't really being nice by sharing my orange with her as you can tell. Nevertheless, she had just finished her lunch and was kind enough to “consider” relieving me of having to throw away my orange.

But then she comes back to table with a tangerine (or was it a clementine?) and started to peel it. I was a tiny bit disappointed and expressed it in all honesty. She commented on my pale looking orange - that she thought looked sour to begin with. Sigh...

And then she says, “Here, try a piece of my tangerine and I'll try a piece of your orange.” I was surprised not by her gesture but how I felt much joy from her simple act of kindness. And she didn't stop there. She broke her sweet tangerine about half and with a smile on her face said, “There, you can have some of my tangerine and I'll have some of your orange.”

Believe it or not, I started to feel teary-eyed as I expressed my gratitude toward her. And I thought to myself, “What was that all about?!” For a few days, I let it sink in and I pondered why I felt so strongly about it. Was I just being overly sentimental? Or is there something else there?

On our retreat day, I began to pray with Mary as she received the message from the Angel Gabriel that she would conceive in her womb the Son of God by the power of the Holy Spirit, and towards the end of the day, I continued to pray with the beginning of Mark's Gospel where John the Baptist proclaims to all, “Prepare the way of the Lord!” As I was meditating on this, I suddenly felt a joy that seemed familiar. Aha! Jesus became human so that we can share in his divinity. Just like Theresa took some of my sour orange and let me have some of her sweet tangerine. Our “orange exchange” was very much like Christmas and Easter Joy! The joy that comes from giving and receiving unconditional love.

In the Catechism of the Catholic Church, there is a section on The Christmas mystery that talks about what is called the “marvelous exchange”.

(CCC 526) To become a child in relation to God is the condition for entering the kingdom. For this, we must humble ourselves and become little. Even more: to become “children of God” we must be “born from above” or “born of God”. Only when Christ is formed in us will the mystery of Christmas be fulfilled in us. Christmas is the mystery of this “marvelous exchange”:

O marvelous exchange! Man's Creator has become man, born of the Virgin. We have been made sharers in the divinity of Christ who humbled himself to share our humanity.

Jesus, open our hearts to see you in the face of those around us. Open our hearts to see you also within us. In this season of Advent, may we wait with expectant joy for your coming and may our eyes be open to the empty mangers in our lives, disguised in the simple, the meek, the humble ways that you want to let us experience your extravagant love.

Have a blessed Advent!

Peace,

Cheryl