Of course, another nice part is going out for a meal as a community. I was sitting next to a sister of mine who asked, "What are you reading these days?" I had to be honest. "I haven't been able to read, or write for that matter, since Mary died." I was expecting some sort of different response, but she said—so simply and equally honestly—"Yes, it'll come."
It was a reassuring answer from someone who has much more life experience than I do. And given that she is known as one of the most well-read sisters of our community, it made the comment even more impactful. On a similar note, I remember a dear mentor of mine telling me that there was a period in her life where the only prayer she could pray was the psalms.
It's not just that I haven't written here; I haven’t really written anywhere since our dear Mary Miller got sick in April. I haven't read anything besides what I have to read for work, and while I make attempts to open books, a few sentences in, and I put them down, unable to engage with the text.
It's very weird and even disconcerting at times. I have been a faithful journaler since college, and I love to converse about my latest read with others. But I am trusting that this particular lull is just one of the ebbs and flows that comes with the realities and events of life. In fact, I was able to get more than just a few phrases written down in my journal this past week.
So, from where have my reflections been coming these days? On Saturday night after our closing meal at LLL, I headed out into the little patch of land I tend at the monastery. I hadn't weeded since June—being in and out of the house as much as I was—so needless to say, it was a bit overrun. On the other hand, the sunflowers were almost four feet tall!
As I began working away inch-by-inch, trying to get to the roots, I thought about myself these past months. Even if I don't have the written proof of what's been going on, I am sure that, like the garden, I have grown quite a bit from all that has happened. Perhaps now's the time to do a little weeding of myself, too. What am I doing these days that isn't necessarily serving me so well? What areas of my life need a bit more cultivation and attention?
A second "needless to say" is that much of my growth comes through my ministry at Emmaus. Taking on the director role in the wake of Mary's death has presented plenty of challenges, and a lot of exhaustion and thought-filled nights. Feeling her presence alongside helps, but it also makes me sad. The good, good people she brought together to create the Emmaus community: staff, volunteers, donors, and the rest are a huge support and comfort as well.
Emmaus isn't about Mary, and Mary would have been the first person to tell you that; Mary just happened to model what Emmaus is about unlike anyone else. Her abilities to become present to the other, to give generously and selflessly, to companion both friend and stranger along the way, to nourish body and soul...those were her gifts. And she brought out those abilities in us all.
Emmaus isn't about Mary, and Mary would have been the first person to tell you that; Mary just happened to model what Emmaus is about unlike anyone else. Her abilities to become present to the other, to give generously and selflessly, to companion both friend and stranger along the way, to nourish body and soul...those were her gifts. And she brought out those abilities in us all.
Mary loved the garden, too. I remember exchanging texts with her on Easter Monday after we had both spent time with the soil. She knew what was essential—beauty, delight, a concern for others—and she knew what to let go, too—pettiness, small talk, unkind words. The garden of her life was well-tended.
May we all continue to cultivate what is beautiful in the world and in our hearts.
Let us walk in the holy presence.
Mary, at the soup kitchen, with flowers...a lovely combination!
The patch of soil I tend, seen here on Easter Monday...looks a little different now!
A patch of flowers at a monastery in Nebraska, where we traveled for a Benedictine conference in July.
Part of same patch...I believe these are called lisianthus, and I loved them!
The first passion flower opened at the soup kitchen this year.
Mary's favorite...a beautiful, yet poignant bloom.
(And a little PSA: If you are able, consider supporting Emmaus Ministries during Erie Gives tomorrow, August 8th. Follow the link here.)
