by Sr. Rita Kelly, MMM Ireland 14.06.2025
It is a dark cloudy Sunday afternoon, and I am debating whether to go for a walk or not. I put an coat on and decided to go out as far as the garden and “get some fresh air.” With the rain, heat and sunshine the garden was in full bloom and as Wordsworth quoted in The Daffodils it was “a bliss of solitude” and a sense of gratitude. But somehow the images of the terrible scenes in Gaza intruded into my thoughts. The bombings and the starvations and the overwhelming sense that no one in the International World appears to be responding to the crisis.
I had money in my pocket, and I decided to go down to Our Lady of Lourdes Church to light candles for the Palestinian people. There is a statue of the Pieta; with Our Lady holding her dead son in her arms. I was standing in front of the statue contemplating and praying for all mothers who was suffering for their children, when I sensed a presence behind me. I was a wary to turn around as I was in the Church on my own. There was a man standing behind me. My first thought that he was looking for money! But he apologised for disturbing me and asked had I known a MMM Sister called Mollie McDonagh? Immediately I responded “Mollie Meehan”. His face totally lit up and he said to a woman who was coming towards us….” She knew Mollie.” He was the nephew of Mollie who was known as Sr. Joannes Meehan in religious life. Sr. Joannes was a widow, from Belfast and entered the same time as me in 1967.
Harry and his wife were visiting Drogheda from Belfast. The last time he was in Drogheda was at his aunt’s funeral in 1979. He was a child. But also remembers visiting her with his family. He wished to visit the grave but did not know where it was. MMM are buried in the local graveyard of Sr. Peters. I accompanied them to the graveyard, and they were so delighted to find Sr. Joannes grave. Photographs were taken and prayers were said.
On our way to the graveyard, we shared memories of Sr. Joannes or Mollie as she was remembered in the family. Sr. Joannes was a widow when she entered in 1967. I also entered that year. We were temporary professed in 1970. Both of us were assigned to Turkana, North Kenya. Sr. Joannes as a Montessori teacher and I as a Nurse. With Sr. Joannes there was never a dull moment and always laughter.
As Harry and his wife wished to visit other historical sites, we bid each other farewell.
Reflecting afterward on the day there was a sense of being in the right place at the right time without any planning. Harry and I had started out on a quest to try and find an aunt’s grave. Because she was a religious, they thought she would be buried in a private graveyard. Medical Missionaries of Mary are buried in the local St. Peter’s Church. Harry was very young when he last visited Drogheda. They saw me going into Our Lady of Lourdes church and wondered could I help them. We had an enjoyable time, sharing memories of a beloved aunt and colleague.
In a recent letter, Archbishop Eamon Martin has called for each parish to be in solidarity with the people of Gaza, to lobby our politicians and especially to pray.
We continue to pray for peace for all areas of conflict, especially for the war in Gaza.
by Sr. Harriet Mutonyi, MMM Uganda 11.06.2025
When I was young, I vividly remember my grandmother sitting by the fireplace, lovingly sharing stories and riddles with her grandchildren most evenings. One such evening, she narrated a poignant tale: “Once upon a time, the wind passed through a banana plantation carrying a melodious tune. One banana stem had both dry and green leaves. As the wind played its music, the dry banana leaves danced with joy. However, the green banana leaves grew angry and scorned the dry ones, calling them ‘old ugly fools’ and demanding that they stop making noise. The dry leaves replied, ‘We were once young and vibrant like you. Treat us with love and respect.’ Despite this plea, the green leaves treated the dry ones harshly, eventually ensuring their fall from the stem.”
The banana plantation
After finishing the story, my grandmother urged us never to treat anyone poorly, especially the elderly. Her words resonate with me to this day: “The elderly you see today, including myself, have worked tirelessly in their youth. They were once young like you and deserve respect, love, and care.”
Regrettably, many of us behave like the green banana leaves, neglecting the elderly as if they no longer exist. Even those with affluent children often suffer as if they had none. We forget that without them, we would not be where we are today. They are the giants whose shoulders we stand upon. I recall a heartbreaking story of an elderly woman who fell ill and was abandoned at home in my village. She endured immense suffering without care. Yet, when she passed away, her children appeared, purchasing an expensive coffin and organizing a grand funeral. This left the community questioning where they had been during her time of need.
One aspect of my vocation in the Medical Missionaries of Mary (MMM) that brings me immense joy is caring for humanity as a whole. I firmly believe that MMM has heard this silent cry of the elderly and responded with compassion. Although our foundress, Mother Mary Martin, began the Congregation with a focus on mothers and children, her mission extended to all in need. This foundation has made it natural and fulfilling for me to serve in this ministry.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 07.06.2025
In what has become an iconic book now, theologian Matthew Fox in “Creativity: Where the Divine and the Human Meet” writes, “Creativity when all is said and done, may be the best thing our species has going for it.”
As a professional communicator, I have read this book a few times and a former me underlined this sentence a long time ago. I want to underline this for you now too because I think in a digital age where we are bombarded with Artificial Intelligence (AI), humans have some ethical issues to consider.
Rather than asking whether AI is right or wrong, good or bad, I have another question I want to ask: “Have we exhausted our own Human Intelligence?” I feel unusually confident in answering this with a resounding, “Eh, no. I don’t think so.”
In Ephesians 2:10 it states, “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”
Yet, I think when we look at the world, we often see that humans are walking in the shadow of violence, disease, political strife and mental health issues. To a point perhaps where these plights in the world are almost presented as normal, typical or just the way the world is.
What would it take for humans to question this and to ask what “good works” can I do? How can I use my own Human Intelligence to make a difference in the world, or even within my own daily life.
To save you some time, I did some research and here are some ideas that surprised me.
For one thing, most creative people are not one way but are in some ways a contradiction. (That’s a relief to some of us!) They are social but need solitude and quiet. They are good listeners but can communicate. They are capable of being practical but using their imagination. They are realists who are also hopeful.
Another part of embracing our own Human Intelligence is making sure we design our lives in such a way that there is space for our creative side to be cultivated. We are not robots.
· We need some reflection time in prayer or meditation. Allowing moments of self-awareness to emerge.
· We need some unscheduled time to let our minds wander and active the daydreaming part of our brain that leads to innovation.
· We seek creativity in a book, or a film or art or even in other people. Engage with people and places that inspire you to be more.
· Watch out for distractions. People who bring drama or exhaust us need to be minimized and we need to have some free time but not waste our energy.
We are complex but really competent beings. We humans can be brilliant. Let’s focus on what we can do together and see how far Human Intelligence sprinkled with compassion can take us.
Nature is beyond décor, it is alive. It whispers through mysterious sounds with objects apparently falling and nocturnal, unseen movements.by Sr. Mary O’Malley Kenya/Ireland 31.05.2025
Editor’s Note: This is one of the stories Sr. Mary told us during her recent visit to Ireland. Sr. Mary works in Nairobi, Kenya in the prevention of human trafficking and care for the victims of trafficking.
Daniel came into our office about two weeks ago also. This young man is a ‘high thigh’ amputee. He has struggled with major injury for more two years ago now. He had come off a local transport (matatu) and was shortly hit by a high-speed motorcycle. It tossed him into the ditch, and he landed in a drain – rather dank due to the presence of open sewage and the driver sped off. He lay there for some hours in and out of consciousness. Finally, a good Samaritan took him to the national referral hospital where he lay there most of the night unattended. In this condition it was understandable that he required an amputation.
Afterwards he went back to his rural family upcountry, but there was nothing in that remote area to assist him. Finally, he returned to a friend in the Nairobi slums but it was not easy. He felt a burden to his childhood friend who lived in a subsistence way also. Struggling on his crutches, someone told him that he should try going around to churches as he might stumble on some form of a charity. Well, it turned out that he arrived at the office where Mutuku and I were engaged in a planning meeting for the ten Victim/Survivors who came to our office the previous evening (at 4.30pm). “ It never rains but it pours!”
Happily, life has changed for him, and he believes that his prospects are good. In consultation with him we set him up with a food trolley business. He sells cooked sausages and hard-boiled eggs which are kept hot with a small charcoal grill at the bottom. We got him a chair and umbrella as he will need to sit and have shade from the burning sun. We have put him on the list of Association of Physically Disabled of Kenya (APDK) to be measured and supplied with a prosthesis. He has found a niche close to the CBD where he can leave his trolley secured with a strong padlock. We are very confident that he will do well and there is no reason why he cannot have a family of his own in the future.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 28.05.2025
It is funny how sometimes we do something and have no idea the outcome our actions will have in future. I know that we don’t do something or take action sometimes because we are concerned about the unknown and feel fear. We sometimes don’t take action because we avoid venturing into the ambiguity of something new.
I am here to propose that we take on another perspective and realise that new actions can result in unexpected joy.
A few years ago, we were looking at ideas for our MMM Communication Department to raise money for the missions and to build more community. While going through old MMM Magazines, Sr Sheila and I read about the events that the Sisters used to host for these reasons. We were inspired to host a Christmas Craft Fair in Drogheda. There were a few people who thought it was a dreadful idea but they had the decency to tell us afterwards!
So, we had our Christmas Craft Fair and it was a big success. The hall was buzzing with activity, and it felt festive and fun. We invited the local children’s choir. They came and we loved having them here on the big stage in the auditorium. We also got to meet a lot of local crafters, artists and small business people who had stalls at the event.
Now, this year we got really brave (there are other words for it) and we added a Festival in May focused on Flowers, Food and Fun. Many of our Christmas vendors came and our lovely children’s choir. Speaking with the man in charge of the choir, Ken, he told me how much coming to the convent over the years has meant to the children in the choir. It is wonderful to have them here and witness them getting taller and more confident too.
This time, when the choirs’ sound equipment was being set up, I noticed something I had not realised before. The young man in charge of the sound is blind. He was busy getting things organised and ready, using a white stick. Honestly, I had been so preoccupied before, I had not noticed this. I stopped in my tracks and marvelled at his expertise with all the electronic equipment that made the children sound so great.
His blindness didn’t stop him from this important role. He was so agile and focused too that I had not realised he was blind. I really admire his talent and skill. It made me think how important it is not to be blind to our own bias or limited thinking. We think that we are trying to help other people – when in fact, they are helping us grow and see the world in a new, bigger way.
I reflect on the wonderful way in which God works and I am reminded of Proverbs 3:5.
“Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”
by Sr. Sheila Devane MMM Ireland 24.05.2025
Scripture scholars are divided in their opinions as to whether Matthew, the tax collector, and Matthew, the evangelist, are one and the same person. In Tanzania we, MMMs, and a whole host of other members of the Christian faithful, especially the expatriate missionaries, were very devoted to Matthew, the tax collector. He was invoked on a regular basis and in all sorts of special emergency situations. Let me tell you about the origin and manner of our earnest prayers to this good man.
Our one retreat centre for many years was in a scenic place high up in the slopes of Mt. Kilimanjaro and run by the Benedictine Sisters of St. Killian. The founding sisters were Austrian, so they spoke German, a Germanic version of English, some Swahili and a little of one of the Chagga dialects. Mother Hildegard was a force of nature, small, rotund, with boundless energy, huge charisma, a great love of the people and with masterful administrative skills. She usually talked in a mixture of two if not three languages in the same sentence and was a combination of spiritual directress, organic farmer, strategic manager, and feisty contemplative nun, known far and wide.
As non-Tanzanians we were all annual visitors to the immigration office locally, and sometimes as far as Dar es Salaam, to renew our visas, and indeed many of us had far more visits to revenue and immigration than we wished for, as we tried to import a whole variety of items big, middle, and small to enable our various ministries. It wasn’t always easy as it never is for anyone anywhere in the world with immigration officialdom.
This is where Mother Hildegard’s spiritual advice was at its very best: on hearing of any imminent immigration visits or taxation matters, she immediately, there and then, would invoke the assistance of St. Matthew while loudly talking of his career as a tax collector, his inner knowledge of the often-devious workings of such a job and deeply believing that prayer could penetrate the hardest-hearted immigration officer. Her prayer was more one of ordering and instructing rather than petitioning. But it worked – real life miracles! So, we prayed to St. Matthew and, as MMMs, we also held the trump card on many such visits by having had a relative of at least one member of the immigration staff in our hospitals at some time or other. All good!
In December one year a group of us arrived in Rombo for our annual retreat; it was the rainy season and the rains that year were heavy; the countryside was magnificent. Mother Hildegard was unusually in bed the day we arrived and fearing she was ill we enquired to be told she was resting after a particularly challenging, but ultimately successful, experience. Knowing her it could have been just about anything under the sun!
A pious, very old, European lay woman who worked in the colonial government had died and requested in her legal will to be buried in that convent. The Sisters, knowing her quite well, agreed to this and held a simple, religious funeral service. Back in headquarters in Dar es Salaam there was upset. She was, after all, a member of government, burials are important and there was a desire, indeed a command to Rombo that the body be exhumed and brought to the capital for burial. Can you imagine the prayers to St. Matthew and the commotion as senior members of the government set out on their safari up the mountain to the convent to retrieve the body?
Mother Hildegard and the sisters were very conflicted as the late Marguerite had requested a Catholic grave among them and now she was about to be hiked off to a secular cemetery in Dar. But St. Matthew was summoned to task: the rains returned in force, the roads up the mountain virtually disappeared and the combination of torrential rain, raging storms, mud -sliding and sheer terror forced the government re-burial team to call off their efforts halfway up the mountain and to return to Dar, leaving the dead woman in her private grave among the Sisters. They never went back for the body.
Every time I need a parking space, and whenever I go to fill out an official form, I pray to St. Matthew, and I often hear Mother Hildegard’s voice ringing in my ears. May they pray for us.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM USA 21.05.2025
In 1975, Sr. Dolorosa and I went for a holiday in Turkana, Kenya. A gentleman farmer took us there in his plane. We stopped in Kipsaraman and spent the night with Sr. Kathleen Crowley. The priest, Father Michael Gannon, SPS asked me to stay longer as Kathleen was alone at the time. That was the last I ever saw of him because the next morning he and the medical assistant crossed a small stream which suddenly became a wild gushing river in which about 10 people drowned. They were on their way to play football at a neighboring Mission. We went up in the plane to try and look for Father Michael’s body, but it was never found. Everyone was heartbroken. It was a sad day, indeed!
In 1977, the Bishop asked me to leave Uganda for six weeks. The US Congress had stopped the coffee trade, and he feared there would be retaliation on the Americans. I went to Kitale for Christmas and it felt like the flight into Egypt. loved working in Uganda, and it looked like I would have to leave. Sr. Peter Channel provided a marvelous Christmas dinner which we enjoyed with the St. Patrick’s Fathers. I also went to Nairobi and helped Sr. Briege Breslin prepare Sr. Andre Brow to take a PAN AM flight to NY. Sr. Andre was extremely ill at the time. We were lucky to get some small containers of yogurt for her to take on the plane.
After returning to Kitovu, the American Government asked me to leave. I did not want to go but we had a community meeting and every Sister present told me to listen to the Bishop and not worry him more. A priest had been put in prison for two days without food or water and then deported. He did not want that to happen to me.
I left mid Feb 1978 to go to Tanzania. Again, I spent some days in Nairobi trying to get into Tanzania by plane, by way of Ethiopia. The Kenyan border with Tanzania was closed which made travel by road impossible. Sr. Fergal was very good to me at that time. She bought my plane ticket and stayed with me in the Flora Hostel.
Father Leo Bourke, a Blessed Sacrament Father, and brother of Brother John, had been sent out of Uganda and was then working at a Mission in Kenya. He came to see me in the Flora Hostel and invited me to go out shopping with him and have a meal at a Chinese restaurant. He also took me to see the grave of Edel Quinn. It was the last time I saw him alive. He died in 1982 at KCMC from chloroquin resistant malaria. I attended his funeral at Mtu wa Mbu in Tanzania. I asked the bishop if I could put a piece of bark cloth in his casket. I put in the best piece I had in his casket. It is a Ugandan custom to be buried with bark cloth. I cried very much for him. He was only 55 and looked like an angel in the coffin. He had visited Mom once when she was teaching in Elmont, NY. Father Leo gave her a rosary which Mom used for many years. I took it after she died to have as a remembrance for them both. Now it is so used and broken it remains in a little bark cloth purse to be buried with me when I die.
When the war broke out in 1979, we used to listen to the BBC in Dareda to hear the progress. The Sisters wrote that during the bombings they would sleep altogether in the big storeroom off the guest bedroom. Rex, the dog would snuggle around Sr. Catherine Nakintu. Sr. Aengus Campion hid under the altar in the chapel. One day a shell went seven feet into the ground a few minutes after Sr. Brigid Keogh went through the garden to the hospital. It took me a long time to settle in Tanzania but when I journaled, it seemed I was spared all this because I could have trailed behind Sr. Brigid and have been hit by that shell. Who knows? I thank God for the twelve happy years that I spent in Masaka.
by Sr. Joanne Kelly MMM Ireland 17.05.2025
There are times when I seek a place of real solitude, a quiet place to reflect and pray.
In fine weather this is easy to find in our lovely garden amidst the God-given beauty of nature. In the cold dark days, I go to the Mother Mary room in our house. This is a beautiful room which portrays in script and pictures the story of Mother Mary Martin, the founding of the Medical Missionaries and the beginning of the hospital known as Our Lady of Lourdes.
I also have the privilege at times of showing visitors round this room – something I thoroughly enjoy doing. I never cease to be amazed at the courage, faith and perseverance that Mother Mary had. I knew her as a shy, frail-looking, gentle woman and with great charm.
For a few years before the Covid pandemic, the Knights of St. Columbanus in Drogheda organised a Pilgrim Walk which began in Our Lady of Lourdes Church, visited the seven churches of Drogheda, both sides of the River Boyne, and finished at St. Peter’s Church in West Street. It attracted many people from far and near. One year they asked to include, as an option, a visit to the Mother Mary Room. I was one of those there to show the visitors around. Some wanted a brief look and get on with their walk, some wanted to spend lots of time with the story and others were eager to tell their own story of Mother Mary.
An elderly couple came in, not too sure if they were able for the whole walk, but eager to visit the Room. They were fascinated to see the actual desk (with its ink stains) and chair which Mother Mary used when she organised and directed the congregation at home and abroad and the kneeler she kept before her little crib all year round, on which there is an indent of her right knee.
The lady remembered the evenings she had in our house when she was part of the Apostolic Work Society. The Society was a group of women who were real missionaries but were not in a position to go out and work in foreign lands. Originally formed in Belfast, Mother Mary established branches of the society in Dublin and Drogheda.
This lady told of the one evening each week when the women met to sew Mass vestments, church linens and anything needed for a new mission and liturgical services. They did knitting and other crafts to make items for the annual Sale of Work as fund raising for the missions. It was a real social gathering, with plenty of chat and sharing – their weekly evening out. Her husband listened to all of this and remembered how much she had looked forward to these evenings, not least to the cup of tea and home – made scones which the sisters brought in before they finished. If Mother Mary was at home, she would drop in to greet them and ask about their families.
The man was more interested in the Golden Book. It is one of many Golden books which record the names of all who contributed to the building of the hospital by buying a brick. One could buy a brick for 2 shillings and 6 pence. Whether they bought 1 brick or 1000 bricks their name was recorded in the Golden Book with a promise of a share in the prayers of the sisters and a Mass offered annually for their intentions. They also received one free copy of the MMM magazine.
It was a way that many people in Drogheda and around Ireland helped to build Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital and support the MMM mission work.
I give thanks to God for all these good people who in their own way helped to bring God’s Healing Love to others.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 14.05.2025
In answer to the question is the glass half full or half empty, people give answers based on the way they see the world. For many of us, the world can be a disappointing place as we see more instances of violence, famine, drought and despair. If we work in the Mission realm, we do so with faith that things can and will improve. Often though, we are not able to show up in the world consistently without being a realist. I have come to the place in my life where the glass is what it is.
Sometimes I am asked if I am optimist as I plan new campaigns for charity or events. I feel the term carries a certain judgement with it. I may be wrong, but it feels that pessimism is not only a drag for the person but for everyone they encounter. You may have read Viktor Frankl’s incredible book “Man’s Search for Meaning” about his experience in the Holocaust. It is one of the most powerful books I have ever read – and I have read a LOT of books.
In it he points out that the people who fared the worst in the concentration camps were the optimists. As a result of his time there he later developed a theory that through a search for meaning in life, people can endure and overcome suffering, Frankl also says that people cannot pursue success or happiness, it is an unintended side effect of a personal dedication to a cause greater than oneself.
As we face challenges in the world that are unprecedented due to the Wars in the Middle East and Ukraine, rising prices and the environmental impact of the climate crisis we could easily lose heart. But we can be uplifted by Frankl and other people who faced conflict like Mahatma Gandhi that our role on the journey to peace brings value.
“Peace is not the absence of conflict, but the ability to cope with it.”
Mahatma Gandhi famously once said. It is almost naïve to think that humans will not have conflict somewhere when they have for thousands of years without fail. So, what remains is the cultivation of our ability to cope.
One of the great resources in coping is the collaboration with one another. What might seem overwhelming for one of us can be addressed by many. We are fortunate to have a great team in the MMM Communication Department and we tackle projects that could easily overwhelm us as a team. I think that the ability to cope comes from confidence we can have in those closest to us.
Perhaps we cannot solve all the worlds’ problems, but we can do what we can do. Along with other like-minded people we can do even more. I love the phrase “if you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” Somewhere on the path as we seek answers we may be rewarded with sprinklings of joy to reward our realism.
