Facing Reality

by Sr. Harriet Mutonyi, MMM                                 Uganda                                11.07.2026

My internship at Serenity Centre, here in Entebbe, Uganda, has been one of the most eye-opening experiences of my life.  There are lessons that books can teach and there are lessons that reality teaches.  Reality teaches in a way that leaves a lasting mark on your mind and heart. Before coming to Serenity Centre, I thought I understood addiction.  I had attended classes, read books, listened to lectures.  I believed I knew what addiction looked like and who was most vulnerable to it.

However, my experience here has challenged many of my assumptions. One of the biggest surprises for me was the issue of peer pressure. Peer pressure is often discussed in relation to children and adolescents.  Yet, at the Serenity Centre, I have met grown men and women whose journeys into addiction began through the influence of friends, workmates and social circles.  Some started drinking simply to belong.  Over time, what started as a social activity became dependency that affected their health, relationships and livelihoods.

Another misconception that was shattered was my understanding of addiction itself.  Like many people, I used to associate addiction mainly with alcohol and drugs.  Today, I know that addiction is far broader than that.  It can take many forms including behavioural addictions such as gambling, internet use, gaming, social media, shopping, food, sex, pornography, work and exercise.  Beyond these are emotional and relationship addictions, where individuals become dependent on validation, attention, relationships or unhealthy patterns of attachment.

What struck me most was seeing people from all walks of life struggling with addiction.  I met individuals who were respected in their communities, successful in their careers and influential in society.  I met young people from families that seemed to have every resource necessary to protect them from harm.  Yet addiction had found its way into their lives.  It reminded me that addiction does not discriminate.  It does not respect social status, education, wealth, profession, age, tribe or religion.  It can affect anyone.  It means that none of us is completely immune.  If we honestly examine our lives, many of us may discover unhealthy attachments or habits that have gained more control over us than we would like to admit.  They may not all be visible or socially condemned, but they exist.  Addiction is often closer than we think.

As one of the saints wisely said, “There goes I, if it were not for the grace of God.”  Those words remind us that our circumstances are not solely the result of our own strength or wisdom.  The struggles we see in others could easily become our own struggles under different circumstances.  Instead of condemning those who suffer from addiction, we are called to extend compassion, understanding and support, recognizing our shared human vulnerability.  This is why addiction should not be approached with blame, condemnation or indifference.
My time at the Serenity Centre has taught me many lessons, but perhaps the greatest is this: every choice we make today has consequences tomorrow.  In life, there is always a “few moments later.”  The habits we nurture today become the realities we face tomorrow.  The decisions we make in private eventually reveal themselves in public.  The warning signs we ignore today may become the crises we struggle with tomorrow.

Reality has indeed slapped me directly in the face.  Yet I am grateful for the lesson.  It has made me more compassionate, less judgmental and more aware of the struggles people carry.  It has reminded me that addiction is not simply about substances; it is about people, pain, choices and hope.  And above all, it has convinced me that when we join hands, support one another and seek help when needed, recovery and healing are always possible.

 

by Sr. Sheila Devane, MMM                      Ireland              08.07.2026

Whenever I think of endings, I am inclined to think of transitions like finishing a course, retirement from a job, moving from a mission or indeed the death of a loved one. All of us could write our own book about any, or all, of these major milestones.  Haven’t we experienced so many?  Today I am writing about two endings that couldn’t be classified as either transitions or milestones in the more general sense, but which nonetheless pose their own special & unique challenges. I have only recently thought about them – let me tell you about these.
Two friends are artists who produce expressive, abstract, paintings that are truly magnificent. Recently I was talking to Jill and admiring a painting which she donated for a charity and, in the course of the conversation, she told me how difficult it was to finish the painting.  Believing it was because she had many other tasks on hand – and she is a busy woman – she went on to say how she laboured over finishing it,  adding that  each time she looked at the picture before bringing it for framing she got out her paint brush and added a dot, a line, a shadow or covered over something that was too bright or too dark.  I was amazed. This was a new conversation for me. She went on to say that there are two moments in any of her paintings which cost her a lot – looking at the blank canvas and putting down the first stroke and finally accepting that this is finished.  Indeed, allowing this be the end!
 I was intrigued with this conversation and couldn’t wait to talk to Irma, my German artist friend, on WhatsApp.  I was bursting with new-found knowledge about the worries of an artist!  When I did talk to her, she said in her excellent English: “A painting is like life; difficult at the start and never really finished. I have come to accept with my own work that there is no real ending because when I have finished with the brush it lives on in my head and heart.”
The second ending is one I am currently experiencing for the  first time myself. I have recently begun attending a women’s craft group in Bettystown as a way of making friends and of taking up a skill long forgotten. I am beginning to crotchet again after many years. This is another saga of endings and of my finding it almost impossible to know where to end a row of crotchet!  The picture here tells the story which I will nonetheless describe.  I started out full of enthusiasm using a double crotchet stitch and was proud as punch as I moved along row after row; it is a small stitch, so progress was slow especially for a novice who needed to see my work grow!  I had real difficulty knowing where to insert the hook to create the last stitch on each line. In knitting this is easy as all the stitches are held together on the needle.
In the craft group I was doing pretty well but when I got home and continued without the guidance of Rita, an experienced crocheter, you can admire my handiwork!  I was all mixed up about my endings and produced this very uneven sample.  I was going in more and more and was on the verge of making an igloo shape when I finally gave up. My problem was endings not unlike the two artists!  I then began with a bigger, more visible, stitch – the treble. This is easier to see but it remains difficult for me to know where precisely to create the last stitch.
So, endings in the world of art and craft, as in life itself, can be a challenge and to be honest even knowing how to smoothly end this article wasn’t so easy either

by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer, MMM                              USA                         o4.07.2026

We were happy to have another lay Doctor, Paddy O’Neil, and his wife and two children come to replace Dr. Judith Galvin who did marvelous work during her two-year tour. Doctor O’Neil did great research on each patient with AIDS. All this helped us to learn much more about the disease and how it is presented. At that time, we had no ante retroviral medicines.

He also made a discovery in treating chloroquine resistant malaria. We had thought that the convulsions were due to cerebral malaria. He passed by a patient in the maternity ward who was convulsing and took her blood sugar, He had brought a small device from England, and it gave the answer very quickly. Her blood sugar was extremely low. The convulsions were from hypoglycemia. Intravenous quinine caused an increase in insulin production which, in turn caused a lowering of the blood sugar. We were then able to prevent this. We read about this later in a medical journal.

Another tragedy was the occurrence of many premature deliveries. The mother would suffer high fever from malaria and suffer a miscarriage. Sometimes babies were born at term with palpable spleens, and a blood slide was taken which was positive for malaria.  Other babies from 3-4 months old would develop severe pneumonia and have a positive blood slide for malaria. We had never seen that before and were comforted to confirm our findings by reading about it in the medical journals three months later. God was with us as we pioneered in learning about HIV/AIDS as well as chloroquine-resistant malaria.

New Sisters came to the Community. Sr. Mary Donato returned to the USA and Sr. Sheila Devane replaced her as midwifery tutor. Sister Doctor Rosalinda Gonzales was a welcome addition to our medical Staff as were Sisters Helen Mc Kenna, Benedicta Nannyondo, Helen Ahern, and Marcellina McCarthy.  We had a very fun-loving Community and many of the young temporary professed were sent to us.  We enjoyed the young Sisters and their great enthusiasm for life and learning the language.

We were sad to lose Sr. Christina Hanley who broke her hip while in Belgium trying to get to her plane. Her motherly care was not replaced although we each tried to do something to help the smooth running of the house. I looked after the vegetable garden. I had never watched green string beans growing and it was a delight to have them prepared for supper.

We found that all these changes added to our love and support of one another as we all joined hands to bring Christ’s Healing Love to the people.

 

by Sr, Sheila Devane, MMM                    Ireland                        01.07.2026
A visitor called recently.  We hadn’t met for a long time.  Our conversation went in many directions; at times we just sat in silence looking out at the sea here in Bettystown.  The tide was in, and by the time we had finished that afternoon it was away on the horizon.
After one such silence she said to us: “ did I ever tell you about my Covid experiences?”  Nadi is Nigerian, a citizen of  Ireland for many years, and working in one of our regional hospitals.  She lives in a housing estate in a fast-growing town from which she travels to work. She has many neighbours some of whom she has only ever seen but has never spoken to.  Next door there is a large intergenerational Irish family living in the elderly, infirm grandmother’s house.  Because one of the younger members has been involved in drugs all  the neighbours shun this  family.
Nadi got Covid shortly before the vaccine was available and being a nurse she was removed from her home in an ambulance with attendants dressed up in the weird looking outfits that became so familiar and are now recent history.  Fortunately she made a rapid recovery and was delivered home again in an ambulance; all the neighbours saw her going and coming.  People were afraid to visit, to go near others, and most of all to go anywhere near someone with Covid so she was left alone.  A note appeared in her letter box on the first day home:  “Nadi, can I help you?  I am next door.  I have left  food including some different fruits in the porch and I found grapes from  South Africa for you.  Tell me if you need medicine or anything.  I will get it for you.  You are a nurse and help us all and you have been sick.  We are not bad people. I am not a bad person – Granny.”  No one else made contact during that really worrying time which Nadi fully understood and respected.  All her needs were taken care of by this  woman who always signed off as:  ‘we are not bad people – Granny.’  A true neighbour!
In the course of the conversation she spoke of a recent visit back to Nigeria during which she and her two nephews went to Cameroon.  She wished to see a family there who had helped her greatly, and she feared she may not meet the old couple again.  They travelled a long two-day journey by car arriving safely; her nephews visited the area while she stayed with the family both days.  On the return journey  the heat was immense and their car overheated.  They were in the middle of nowhere and still in Cameroon.  The men looked to see what they needed and said the car needed coolant but if they could get water this would help for now.  Nadi got out, walked around in the sweltering sunshine, and thought she saw someone near what turned out to be a riverbed.  She was right: there was a heavily pregnant,  young, woman  chopping wood with a heavy axe.  Nadi spoke about her problem and the woman immediately offered the large canister of water she had; she also had a much smaller water container but was adamant that Nadi should take the bigger one.  This was a lifesaver from a pregnant stranger in a  foreign country in the hottest imaginable time of day.  When parting Nadi insisted on giving her all the Cameroonian franks (CFA) she had left as they were going on to Nigeria.  It was a large sum for this young woman.  Nadi suggested she go to a hospital to get help for her imminent delivery.  When describing  how the woman received the monetary gift Nadi held up her arms  in prayer saying this is what the woman did, clutching the notes tightly in her hands and thanking God in a  pose of intense prayer, awe and gratitude.  There were no words.
When departing we thanked Nadi for coming  and agreed that three people had visited us: the caring elderly Irish neighbour from the “not good family,” the pregnant stranger on the road in Cameroon who gave away the precious water and nurse Nadi  – three special women. It was Trinity Sunday – a gift of Three in so many ways.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.

by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator                 Ireland                27.06.2026

If you had an 8th day in the week just for you, what would you do?

This may seem like an odd question. But it can be useful in determining what kind of holiday you need. This is a question that a life coach recently asked on a radio show. Her question led into how important it is to take proper holidays. Apparently there is an increase in people not taking time off work or their typical life to get away or have a proper holiday.

I am writing today to defend the important of holidays.

There are several reasons why holidays are important to us and why we need time each year to get away and to reconnect with loved ones – including with ourselves.

Try and bring some balance to your life as in if you have sedentary job or work, think of a holiday that brings you more activity. For example being out in the sun and getting more Vitamin D can be important for us if we are usually always in doors. Getting some extra walks in or even a swim might be helpful. This can even reset our health for the whole year!

Reconnecting with family and loved ones is important on holidays and it is a time to make your bonds with others stronger. It’s about taking the time to notice on another and give attention that maybe you normally don’t have time to do. But it can also be stressful to be with other people more than you are used to being so it is also important to speak up. Daily, state your needs on your holidays. If you are with people who want to do too much, tell them upfront you will not be doing so much. If they need rest, then let them get it.

A holiday is a good chance to get away from screens and to reconnect with people and ourselves. Sometimes we have so much pressure on us being on screens all the time for work. So making time to be off screens is worth the effort.

Fill your holiday with what you love, just like you would if you had an 8th day to enjoy. Be sure that each day you have something to look forward to enjoying. Work can be stressful even if you enjoy it, so taking a total break for schedules may be a nice change. Leave some time for the spontaneous. Though sometimes now if you are going somewhere popular you will have to make reservations in advance.

When returning to work, try to ease back into work so the benefit of your time away lingers a bit longer.

Have a wonderful holiday!

 

 

by Paul Campbell, S.J.                                   USA                                 23.06.2026

When my sister, Sheila, asks me to write a blog post, I’m always aware that the MMMs are a worldwide, multi-cultural group. She asked for something about the summer and, while for many of us who live in the northern hemisphere, the opening line of the famous aria from George Gershwin’s “Porgy & Bess, “Summertime, and the livin’ is easy…” may be appropriate — for others in the southern hemisphere, their experience of summer may be markedly different.

Another song talks about the “lazy, hazy days of summer” and it’s true that, once the school year ends, life’s rhythms tend to slow down. We’re invited to notice how God speaks to us through creation. In these bright months, the Gospel’s call to see God’s care becomes more tangible: fields flourish, fruits ripen, and long, unhurried afternoons can give us the space for relaxation and prayer.
Mornings arrive with birdsong and a golden hush – our windows are often cracked open to the warm, familiar scent of sun-warmed grass. Our morning tea or coffee tastes more glorious when sipped slowly on a porch, and the hours ahead feel generous and wide enough for unplanned adventures.

Summer teaches us a kind of gentle reckoning: to savor the heat without haste, [although, as an Irishman, I find Washington, D.C.’s fetid humidity almost unbearable], to choose to play over work sometimes, and to relish ordinary joys like a long cold drink, a good book, and the particular comfort of wearing loose clothing and sandals. It’s season of light, of relaxed schedules and active senses, an annual reminder to step outside and let small pleasures fill our days.

 

 

 

 

by Sr. Sheila Devane, MMM                                       Ireland                  20.06.2026

I want to describe one of the efforts of the School of Nursing in Dareda Hospital, Tanzania, to address by far the biggest health issue in their area – malaria – and of how they zealously tried to bring understanding and prevention of this immense public health issue to the people in their immediate locality.

The student nurses were receiving training in delivering appropriate health education to the patients in the hospital, to the relatives caring and cooking for them, to their own peers and to the parishioners. A decision was made to move out a little further to a place quite near the hospital from where a high percentage of the sickest patients came – a small market village – Dareda Kati.

The nurse tutor, Sr. Nuala Horgan, and her colleagues in the School of Nursing accepted the challenge and eagerly set about creating very large diagrams of the various bugs and micro-organisms that caused the most serious illnesses to patients brought into the hospital.
The diagrams could be proudly, but honestly, described as “world class.” They were large, detailed, delicately coloured and on large white cardboard that was covered in plastic to keep them clean. Indeed, they were pretty scary too!

On their first outing, three second year students – Clotilda, Theresia and Martha – went along to the village with Sr. Nuala herself, Tom a driver and plenty of the local tea in flasks and, of course, some lovely mandazis, the local donuts. They were met by a large crowd of people, some selling their own wares as it was a market, others returning from mass and many there having heard the announcement of this special health education event.

Clotilda and a companion assisting her got up on the back of the land rover – this was their stage and a very good one it proved to be! She took the loudspeaker and called the people. The teaching began. As she talked of a particular bug a suitable diagram of it was shown all around from the stage, then some people moved close, asked to have the diagram right in front of them and were duly assisted. All was going well.

Then Martha took to the stage, she was a native of that locality, greeted the people in the tribal language, they clapped; then she spoke in Swahili with a member of the audience quickly volunteering himself as interpreter! Her topic was malaria and she gave an impassioned presentation to a village where one could hear a pin drop. The traders stopped their work, moved over to the stage, and were captivated by what she said and by the splendid diagrams. They were truly magnificent. Everyone wanted to see them, touch them and some would come near and then turn away quickly in fright!

It is customary in Tanzania to thank people for their efforts so when Martha finished and came off the Land Rover an elderly man was helped up, a seat was supplied, he slowly sat down and looked attentively at the audience. He started by saying he hadn’t much to say – again as is customary there – and proceeded to talk for about fifteen minutes, maybe longer. He spoke in both languages, was most articulate and clearly had listened to every word said. He commended Sr. Nuala for her great work as a teacher reminding her that this was the most prized profession in Tanzania, to be called Teacher. He spoke of the great effort of the Sisters and nurses in coming to Dareda Kati, how they were so well equipped with a platform, loud-speaker, and diagrams and how well each one delivered her material. He talked of how the people all appreciated them and even stopped their normal business to listen and take note.

Then he stopped; the people knew he wasn’t finished; there was a pause, even a long pause, he fixed his hat on his head, looked around, and with a deep voice continued:

“I am old, so old I don’t know my real age, but I know I am old. I have lived here all my life.
I have seen people get sick and die of malaria and of many other diseases. But one thing I have never seen, and I believe no one has ever seen in Dareda Kati or maybe in all of Tanzania is a mosquito as big as the one we have just seen on that board. I want to say to the people here if this is the creature that causes the malaria to the people in this locality, we will be alright; our own mosquito found here is very small, smaller than my thumbnail, ah much smaller so we are all safe. We don’t have any mosquitos like this great big one! Amen”

There is always more to learn; every day is truly a school day.
What we hope to impart and how it is understood can be so different!
Our work in Primary Health Care has taught us all that valuable lesson many times over.
We continue.

 

 

by Sr. Rita Kelly, MMM                      Ireland                17.06.2026

Recently, Sr. Sheila Campbell came up to me. She knows I had written a book about Mother Mary Martin, our Founder, told through the eyes of a child. I co-wrote this book a couple of years ago with Dr. Briege Rafferty, a dear friend. Sheila also knew I was beginning work about the small group of women who surrounded Mother Mary and who were key to the success of her vision. “Write me a blog about Magdalen”, she asked. So here goes…

Sr. Magdalen O’Rourke, known as Brigid (Bridie to her family) was one of the first pioneers to support Marie Martin in her vision for a new missionary congregation. She was born in 1909 From an early age Bridie was a prolific writer. Through her letters and memoirs, one gets a picture of her life story. While working in the Civil Service in Dublin for “eight years a happy and fulfilled life” a call to religious life to train as a nurse and go to Africa emerged. She was a woman of her era. There was a strong Missionary Movement both in Ireland and at Global level.
Through her Spiritual Director she was introduced to Marie Martin. From the first meeting, in 1934, Bridie was inspired by Marie’s vision of a new missionary order to serve the needs of Mother and Child. But Marie, an astute woman, recognized Bridie’s leadership, business and organizational skills.

In 1935 Bridie accompanied Marie to the Benedictine Monastery in Glenstal, Co. Limerick, for Spiritual formation. In 1936 “as a half a midwife” she set sail for Nigeria. She spent only two years on “mission”. By 1938 she was back in Ireland. She was the trusted assistant to Mother Mary Martin promoting MMM, fund-raising, and the first Editor of the magazine. She was adaptable, courageous and responded to Mother Mary Martin’s wishes with the attitude of Fiat- “God’s will be done”

This good and faithful servant was called home in November 2008 a few days before her 99th Birthday.

 

 

 

 

by Sr. Sheila Campbell, MMM                            Ireland                          13.06.2026

In 1940, Sr. M. Elizabeth wrote in her letter home –

“At 5am the alarm goes off and, thinking you are in Ireland, you wonder what the cage of netting is doing all around your bed. Then you realise that you are in Africa and locked in the folds of a mosquito net. Then you remember spending half the night chasing a mosquito which accidently got in somehow before the net was let down the previous evening. You could not imagine anything so tantalising. He comes along and sings a little buzz in your ear and then disappears. A sense of duty compels you to try and catch him in case you would get malaria and you would get no sympathy for your laziness. The next step is to get a match and light your bush lamp and then the chase begins which, I needn’t tell you, is often a lengthy one because he is the size of nothing.”

After reading this I had a memory of sitting in our little chapel in Salvador, Brazil, and casually asking the Sisters: “Does the sound of all these mosquitos not bother you?” They looked at me blankly and then at one another. “There are no mosquitos, Sheila”, Maria ventured.

Then it slowly dawned on me – what I was experiencing was tinnitus, due to hearing loss, and not mosquitos! They are annoying little inscets, but can’t be blamed for everything!!

by Sr. Sheila Devane, MMM                       Ireland                                          09.06.2026
Sometime after moving from Boyle to Dundalk in 1954 a few neighbours in our estate – Muirhevna – remarked to my mother that my face seemed to be growing very round. They said it in a way that meant I was sick or something. This needed a trip to our doctor who believed there was nothing wrong with me at all and that I was a lovely little girl and so good at answering his questions. Well, they weren’t hard questions for me! The good thing was that the talk of my round face got me a trip to Dublin by train with mammy and a neighbour on December 8th when all the “down country” women went to the city for their Christmas shopping. I was being specially treated and looked after by being brought along whilst my siblings spent the day off school at home in Dundalk with Daddy. They said it was not fair.
I was very excited as I had only ever been in a train twice before; this was a very long journey from Dundalk to Dublin with about 6 stops at different railway stations before we reached Amiens Street in Dublin. When we got into the train Daisy our neighbour (who used to be a Protestant and then turned into a Catholic) started to say the rosary out loud. We had to join in. I was really shocked as we always said the rosary at home every evening and it was called the “family rosary.” I never knew it was said in a place like the train and so out loud that other passengers knew we were praying it. I wondered if every Protestant turned Catholic was holy like this. Do you know?
We stopped at a place called Dunleer and a crowd of people rushed into the train carrying shopping bags as well as handbags. They must be going to Dubin too I was thinking. Then without asking us or anything two smartly dressed ladies sat opposite us; they knew each other and arrived together talking and they kept on talking. The talk was loud and we could hear it. I saw mammy sleeping and Diasy was reading a prayer so I was the one listening to their chatter.
They were talking all about Eileen who one of them said had a big ego and it went everywhere with her; well, they were agreeing that her  ego was around at some big meeting they had and it didn’t leave at all. Then they spoke about a man called PJ who they said had an ego too, but he managed it very well and you wouldn’t notice it but they agreed it was there. Brid they said had no ego, just went to the meeting and said what she had to say – full stop. I was sorry mammy was sleeping ‘cos I could have whispered to her to ask what an ego was. It seemed so important and I didn’t think it was such a nice thing. But then they said that Eileen wouldn’t function without her ego and how most times they thought she represented them well. I didn’t know what “represented” meant but it seemed alright. So now it was confusing for me because in this way the ego was ok, even good. Oh, I wished I knew about this thing they called the ego because it was all they talked about from Dunleer to Dublin and they were such stylish ladies. They both wore high heels & jewellery.
We went to many shops in Dublin and mammy & Daisy bought a lot; one shop called haberdashery sold all kinds of things like needles and special thread and various patterns for sewing and embroidery. Mammy liked these shops as she was very good with her hands. As I looked around the shop, I kept thinking this might be the kind of place that sold ego but I didn’t ask as I was too shy to do this. I wondered where ego was sold. I saw no shop notice anywhere with “Ego for Sale” written up and I was looking everywhere; this was what I did all the time in Dublin.
When I got home, I knew I could ask daddy – he was so good with answers and very quick too. We had to take Daisy home, so I didn’t get to ask him at the railway station and then once home we had to tell my sisters and brother all about the day, the shops, and the train journey so I didn’t mention it. Later that night I was alone in the dining room with daddy and mammy and I asked about ego. There was no quick answer; this was a surprise to me; they always knew things. They looked at each other searching for an answer for me and then mammy said something about two lady passengers in the train talking something about ego. So, she heard even though she was asleep. She always heard!  She then said she remembered this word from a lecture in college but now forgot what the lecture was all about; daddy then told me not to worry  saying if it were something I needed he knew I was a smart little girl who would find it in time!
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USA