by Sr. Keresifon Ekanem MMM Nigeria 02.10.2024
It was a singular privilege to have participated in the April 2024 Medical Missionaries of Mary (MMM) Heritage Experience. The program went well and I really enjoyed every bit of it, the spiritual as well as the social aspects of it.
Sharing of mission experiences by our older Sisters was so enriching and inspiring. One can only imagine the passion and zeal with which they engaged with their missions especially in Africa – some still wish they can come back, of course for good while others wish they had the opportunity even for once. They talked about the people they worked with and the places they have been to with so much love in their hearts. The challenges they faced of bad roads, poor accommodation facilities and sometimes nothing really to start with were just stepping stones for them to do more for the salvation of souls. We still encounter some of these challenges today in our different missions. MMMs, trust us! We go to where others do not dare to go to, where human need is greatest, with openness and total trust in God. No wonder Mother Mary Martin said, “Nothing is too hard for those who love.” We thank her for laying such a solid foundation for us, her Sisters.
May 2, 2024 was the day for us to say goodbye to our beloved Sisters in the Motherhouse against May 3 because we were going to take off at the crack of the dawn. This was done after supper. We all expressed our gratitude to one another and we all wished we had more time together again. But we all knew that no time will ever be enough. If we were to have more time together again, we will still feel the same way at the end of that time. Goodbyes are hard to say! But we meet to part and part to meet.
Meanwhile, two aspects stood out in our goodbyes. First, in the early morning of the following day, the Sisters were gathered at the brown door, as it is called, even before us who were travelling, to say the final goodbye! It was really amazing their love and care. We have left but the memory is evergreen and will always be! Indeed, Sisters, you are great!
Secondly, at the end of the goodbye to other Sisters who were present the previous day, we stayed a bit longer with Sr. Jo Anne Kelly to chat. Wondering why? She had been a Directress to us either as Aspirant or Novice. The good old times were reminisced again for the last time just before we left. I asked her if she could take us again to Mother Mary Room – a sacred space, and the place I loved so much in the house. She responded in the affirmative and we were excited. On entering the room, we found a cushion we did not see before and it was clearly marked that Mother Mary sat on it in her life-time. We could not but sat on it, excited that we had such a great privilege. This was in addition to other privileges in the room including kneeling on her kneeler to pray before the crib – the Mystery of the Incarnation that inspired her and thus gave birth to the MMM Congregation. Again, Sr. Jo Anne told us a few other things about Mother Mary that we never heard before like initiating the praying of the Office in English which was being said initially by all in Latin. At the end, she prayed for us and encouraged us to continue to live out the MMM Healing Charism and inspire the young ones by our lives.
In the Mother Mary Room, the fullness of the Goodbyes was accomplished!
by Vera Grant AMMM Ireland 29.09.2024
And so the saying goes:
‘A daughter is a daughter all of your life, a son is a son until he takes a wife’.
Does it ring true? Not to the many people to whom I have spoken.
As parents to our children we accept the responsibility ‘like an eagle that watches its nest, that hovers over its young’(1) and when the time comes for them to spread their wings it is hard to accept that they are like arrows in the hands of a warrior.(2) We release them hoping and yet knowing they will find their destination.
I have often heard the lament that once they get married, they forget they have a mother. When the grandchildren arrive then it’s as if you ceased to exist.
What we did not expect was to lose something of ourselves, our identity and our role. From being number one we find ourselves slipping down the rungs of the ladder…our pole position pulled from under us.
It is not just sons and daughters but also brothers and sisters. A friend, one of six children, recognised that the responsibility of looking after her elderly mother had slowly and without any consultation become her role. She says is happy to be there, living with and caring for her mother recently diagnosed with dementia but what she finds intolerable is the attitude of her siblings who feel they have the choice if not the right to prioritise their own lives, their work and their own families.
The once-a-week visit is often curtailed by the all too familiar comment, ‘I need to get back home / get the dinner on / see what they are up to…. The excuses are endless. ‘I am at the bottom of their list, last in the pecking order,’ she says with a roll of the eye.
Sadly, it’s not just the married sons and daughters but the same for can be said of those young people starting university and moving away from home. Once the tears have dried, promises made it is not long before the excuses start, ‘I want to stay on this weekend, its freshers’ week and everyone is going out. Yes, I will miss Sunday dinner but sure there’s always next week, love you lots, see you soon, bye’ and the screen goes blank. Staring into the emptiness the loss and rejection seem overwhelming.
We have all been there, in one way or another and so it felt like an answer from God when the priest at Mass talked about loneliness, lack of purpose and feeling totally unloved or even worse unlovable.
He asked us to remember that we are loved, we are lovable, we are children of God and his love far surpasses all.
(1) DEUT 32:1-12
(2) PSALM 126(127)
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 25.09.2024
Earlier this year I was watching the daffodils shooting up out of the ground. They came early this year at the beginning of January. But instead of making me lament about our climate crisis, I began to think about the process of hibernation itself. Why do some plants and animals hibernate anyway? What is the advantage of lying still in a cold dark place for a prolonged period, often for many months?
As I was asking myself these questions, I had another ‘lightbulb moment’. Have I not had these periods of hibernation myself. Oh, on the surface I was all business as usual. I can put on a good face. But inside at times have been what I used to call the “fallow periods”. These are times when I am not particularly productive or creative. I follow along, cling to routines and somehow the time passes. I am neither into belief nor unbelief, dutiful rather than ardent, a disciple rather than an apostle.
What is the purpose of hibernation? In animals, bears, for example, go into hibernation in the winter months when food is scarce. Maybe it is the same with us – I go through a ‘fallow period’ when the inner food that nourishes my soul is not available. Instead of lamenting these periods, I need to relax into them, knowing that God is actually giving me a spiritual rest period! Sometimes it helps to talk to someone. Sharing the experience of hibernation often is enough to re-kindle energy. The other person provides the “food” I need to come out of hibernation. It can also be comforting to know that other people go through the same experience at times!
Sometimes I pick up a favourite book or listen to a well-loved piece of music. But often I am called to just twiddle my thumbs and wait and wait.
So, let us thank God for the gift of “inner hibernation” and just ask God to keep us company as we sit in the darkness and wait it out.
by Sr. Joanne Kelly MMM Ireland 22.09.2024
It is blackberry time. On the left side of our driveway there is a whole bank of blackberries at various stages of ripeness, green, red, and black and many traces of where birds or insects have already feasted from the juicy fruit.
They bring me back to the time when we were children. We picked blackberries during the whole season. Near to us was Fruitfield factory which made all kinds of jam, including blackberry jam. So blackberry picking, as well as something we loved doing, was a business for us. It was wartime and money was scarce and my mother promised the money would be used to buy us new shoes for the winter.
One year the older ones of us went picking, our little brother was too small. Many children in the countryside were picking. We were only allowed to pick from any public hedges, along the roads and from our own fields. We had tin cans with tight fitting lids bought from the travelling people who made them and came around selling. They were ideal for blackberries as no drop of juice would be lost. Juice had weight and we were paid by the weight.
Every day we set out after school with our cans and a long stick with a fork on it to pull down those beyond our reach. The fruits had to be picked gently as they broke up so easily. So we really had to get into the bushes and briars, getting scrapes and scratches, with hands bleeding at times. There was competition to see who would be first to fill their can. However we eventually helped each other so that we all came home with full cans if possible. The fruit was then emptied into buckets, careful to wait for every possible drop of juice to fall! Then the cans were thoroughly washed ready for the next day. Once a week a van came from the factory, collected our blackberries, weighed them and paid us accordingly. My mother held the money, but we counted it every week to see how we were doing.
In time the season passed and the shoes were bought for those of us going to school.
Mam promised our youngest brother he would get his shoes “out of the pigs”. There is no regular income in a small farm and the next time money would come in would be when the pigs were sold.
So some weeks later it was time for the pigs to go. My dad had bought them as piglets early in the year and they were now big and fat and ready for the market. There was no abattoir near us then, so the pigs had to be killed and thoroughly prepared. There were 10 pigs so the butcher, Paddy, came at 8am and worked all day. Each pig was first stunned, then killed, scraped, cleaned and washed inside and out. Edible parts were set aside and everything else disposed of. My little brother was fascinated by the whole procedure and watched Paddy all day. By evening the pigs were all hanging high on strong branches of a big tree, to drip overnight. Next day they would go to a depot to be thoroughly assessed and examined and my dad would be paid accordingly.
But that evening our house was buzzing. With no electricity or fridges, the edible parts of the innards had to be shared. Each of us was sent out with parcels so that we, and all our neighbours, had fresh liver for tea. That in wartime was a real treat!
But my small brother was not so happy. He had watched all day and there were no shoes in the pigs!
by Sr. Maureen O’Sullivan rsm Ireland 18.09.2024
My father was a fourth-generation lighthouse keeper. His father was drowned off the Bull Rock in Cork but all his sons joined the Irish Lights. I suppose I should describe the job as modern people know very little about it except through RTE’s Great Lighthouses of Ireland.
The Commissioners of Irish Lights are responsible for the 80 lighthouses around our coast which were originally built to aid ships travelling on dangerous waters. All are now automated. The last flag was taken down from the Baily by my cousin in 1997.
Light keeping was not for the fainthearted. Two or three men would take turns on watch day and night. They were away from their families for three, four or six weeks at a time and home for one or two weeks depending on the place of the lighthouse. They also operated the fog signal when necessary.
What work did they do? They carried out cleaning, polishing and maintenance work. The brasses had to be cleaned every day and a log written up. Tinned and dried food was heavily relied on but some Rocks had goats and hens. Bread was made with water so many lightkeepers today don’t eat home made bread! They missed Christmas, First Communions and Confirmations which was difficult for the children. In our childhood Santa Claus often broke his leg and couldn’t visit till January!
My parents met in Valentia, my mother’s home place, and Dad was on the Skelligs. Their first station was on the Aran Islands for three years and my mother found it very lonely as most of the neighbours spoke only Irish! Then they came south to Roches Point in Cork where I was born. A year later they were changed to Blackhead, Co Antrim and my sister Margaret was born there. She always jokes about having a crown on her birth cert! Needless to say I don’t remember those places but we all lived in the lighthouses in both places. Next move was back to the Skelligs and Valentia. I was now three and a half and began school to make up numbers. My sister, Davidine, and brother, Owen, were born there.
When I was in First Class we moved to Ballycotton, a lovely fishing village in east Cork. I made my First Communion there. Mam had learnt to semaphore which is a form of alphabet signalling based on waving handheld flags in a particular pattern to compose messages. She would go to a place where the lighthouse was visible and tell Dad all the news. He stood in his navy uniform in front of a white wall and looked through the telescope. There was a lot going on in Ballycotton. The wife of the school Principal taught us dancing and we took part in many concerts and plays.
Our next move was to Skerries, Co Dublin when I was in 3rd class. It’s a lovely seaside town, noted for sailing. My sister, Eileen, was born there. We had electricity at last! Our Gran was living with us for a few years but she died there and was buried in Valentia.
The next most memorable move was to Clare Island in Mayo. Here we lived at the lighthouse, three miles from the pier and “village” which had one shop! But it was great that Dad was home all the time. We had three miles to walk to school and four to Mass…and not the best of roads! But we loved it. On our first day, having come from Dublin, we wore sandals and socks while all 16 pupils were in their bare feet! So, we did the same and were accepted straight away. The saying I won’t forget is ” The new lightkeepers are very natural!” They were delighted with three extra pupils but it was a school with a difference. The teacher was untrained. She used to get the classes to teach each other! We were sent out to gather firewood during school hours and never returned till three o’clock! Powdered drinking chocolate was provided and the 6th class made cocoa for all the others. If someone local was going to America all the pupils were marched to the pier to say goodbye. These were sad days.
We lived on the top of a cliff and were warned not to go near the back of the house. There was another keeper beside us but they had no children, so we had to amuse ourselves. The neighbours who were all over a mile away would visit us at 11 at night! They always brought potatoes or vegetables or even a live chicken! In return Dad would charge their radio batteries with a wind charger he had built.
We were only a few days there when the priest arrived to say there was Confirmation in Louisburgh in three days’ time and I should be taken out as I might miss it when next it was held on the island. No catechism! No shoes! I had my Communion veil and a good dress so we set off by boat and were advised to call to the Durkan family. I was 10 years old so Teresita, niece of the owner, was there and took me to the Mercy Convent while Mam went to Westport for white shoes. Teresita later became President of Carysfort College.
We spent three wonderful years on Clare Island riding horses and donkeys, saving hay, going to the bog, fishing. We were always invited to the Stations on the way home from school to houses where Mass was said that day. Best of all, the last baby, Barry, was born there and we argued as to whether it was the postman or the man with provisions who had brought him! So now we had a child from each Province. My mother was always very proud of that. When leaving the island all the locals came to see us off, many in tears. They were such kind, gentle, welcoming people.
Back to Ballycotton then and I had to repeat 6th class before going to Secondary in Presentation, Midleton. We learnt piano, dancing, choral singing and elocution…great variety for a small village. I went to Midleton on the bus – the only one from the village going to Secondary at the time. The following year Margaret and another girl joined me. When I was in the middle of Inter Cert we were changed to Castletownbere, my seventh school! Everything was done through Irish so that was a big change. I told my mother I wouldn’t make any friends there as I had to leave them all in a short time…but of course I did and two of them Carmel Downing and Teresa Harrington are living close to me now. We all entered together in Castletownbere which was another lovely place. The family moved back to Skerries after eight years in Beara and my father retired there.
When I entered, I thought no more moving! But after UCC and teaching a few years, I was asked to go to Moyderwell in Tralee where I spent many happy years teaching. Then the two Mercy schools amalgamated, and I was changed to Mercy Mounthawk. I now live in an estate near the school with Sr. Bernadette.
I had an unusual childhood but I wouldn’t change it for anything. I wonder what the next move will be…!!
Editor’s Note: Sr. Maureen O’Sullivan rsm is from the Southern Province. This article is re-published with permission.
by Sr. Keresifon Ekanem MMM Nigeria 15.09.2024
I arrived at a new environment in Malawi for a two months’ program sometime last year, 2023.
It was a friendly environment with a beautiful landscape and a lot of green vegetation during dry season. A few days later, I saw on a flower along the corridor of the building, a chameleon. This corridor led to different places in the compound but the most significant place that made me see this God’s creature often was the dining hall. Each time I passed by, I stopped to say hello, and it will make some slight movements in response, but a few times no movement.
It remained there for days and then weeks and more than a month. How does it feed? I wondered since I never saw it moved in search of food. Or does it feed only at nights? I know chameleons to be insectivorous and insects were scarce around that environment. Or was this flower one of the leaves that they feed on too? I stopped by each time and other people noticed and whenever they are in front of me, they also stopped by and when they see it, they would say to me, “Your friend is here”.
At first, I was only concerned about how it fed and was even worried that it was losing weight. But no, it was not losing weight, it was all my imagination. Later, I saw it someday jumping up and catching small insects for its feeding. When I noticed this, my concern immediately shifted. One day, when I passed by and noticed it in its usual place, I asked myself, “Why has this animal been here for so long a time? Even though it does not find food so often, it was comfortable in its habitat.
Then, the question that came to my mind was, “What rather, are the lessons that this chameleon is teaching me?” When I reflected, I realized that it was reminding me about God’s providence and His ever-abiding presence with me at all times and in every situation. For the times it was not finding food, it remained there.
Then, I realized that God is the only provider who provides me with the grace that I need at all times and in every situation – a great lesson indeed! Do you know what? As soon as I came to this realization, the chameleon disappeared the following day. It is not as if I was unaware that God is our Provider and an ever-abiding presence. What was this supposed to mean for me at this time? I kept questioning. Not long, I got the sad news of my sister’s passing to eternal glory. A very sad news! I was overwhelmed, devastated and heartbroken, but God provided me with the grace I needed to follow through the program. Hmmm, so this was it! I heard Him say to me, “Hang in there, I’ve got your back!”
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 11.09.2024
This summer I went to several funerals for the parents of my friends which was a surreal experience to have so many over a few months. At many of these beautiful services, there was a frequent reference to Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.
Many of us know this reference well. “There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven…”.
What struck me in hearing this over and over was that one day in the not too distant future it would not be the funeral of my friends’ parents that I would be attending – but the funerals of friends. This is the way of life and I am aware that there was a time when I never really went to any funerals at all.
Amazingly, in 2024, the MMM Sisters have had only one funeral. It’s been an amazing time to see some Sisters get ill but to make almost miraculous recoveries. One of the MMM Sisters turned 103 years old this year. Such a wonderful celebration.
Last Saturday I was at a friend’s mother’s funeral. It was a memorable service honouring her long and beautiful life. Seeds for wild flowers were passed out at the end of the service as she loved gardening. Outside the church in Dublin, a large group of young people were gathered. I was told that the next funeral was for a man who was only 26 years of age. It was heartbreaking to see all the young men and women looking so fretful in the parking lot. I didn’t ask how he died. I said a prayer for him as I left and for all his family and friends. It made for a very cold morning in summer for many.
The truth is no one really knows how long they will get to live 26 years or 103 years? We just don’t know how long we have to be here, but life does seem to speed up as we age. We have a different appreciation for each morning and for each sunset when we realised that nothing is guaranteed. For the season we are in is a gift.
At times, I can get overwhelmed by what needs to be done or what didn’t get done correctly. This summer of funerals, I am reminded to celebrate the little things and to find joy in the ordinary moments of life. We are only here for such a short time, so let’s make it a beautiful one.
So what season are you in now? What season awaits you? Is the key to life accepting, celebrating and rejoicing in the season that we are in now?
by Sr. Úna Ní Riain MMM (1931-2022) Ireland 08.09.2024
There is tremendous satisfaction in caring for other people, especially at a time when they have special needs. Nursing is exciting too! I am a Nurse tutor now and, when the students are going to the wards for the first time, I always notice an important change in them, something different from when they start the theoretical aspect of their training. Later, when I ask them ‘how are you getting on?’ or ‘do you like it?’ they are bubbling over with enthusiasm, and tell me ‘Yes, we love it, we just love caring for the patients.’ I like to think that the tremendous satisfaction they get from caring for the sick will remain with them throughout the whole of their lives.
This was my experience. When I was a young nurse, I couldn’t wait for morning to come until I could go on duty and begin caring again for my patients again. Of course, there are many different types of nursing career today, but for me bedside nursing as a hospital nurse, which is my line, has been a source of great satisfaction. Many nurses develop a real concern for the patient. Very often the patient is unaware of this – they may be unconscious or extremely ill – but in my years of nursing I have worked with many nurses who care about their patients from the depths of their hearts, and I think most patients do not realise this.
I never wanted to be a doctor. I think I have enough intelligence and education to have studied medicine, but the roles are quite distinct. A doctor is basically concerned with making the diagnosis and ordering the treatment and of course the doctor’s relationship with the patient is a caring one also. But the nurse spends much more time with patients, assisting them with what they cannot do alone, and helping to restore them to independence as soon as possible.
When I became a Tutor, I missed the bedside nursing.Later in life, I was glad I had become a Tutor because bedside nursing takes a lot of energy. I get plenty of satisfaction from teaching, but the reason is different. Now it is not the personal satisfaction of seeing someone I nursed get back their health and independence but knowing that I am handing on my skills to others and trying to foster the idealism of our profession in our students.
Clinical proficiency is essential. But I stress the word idealism because nursing has to do with more than this. The nurse needs to have a caring attitude, genuine kindness, concern for the dignity of the patient, and sensitivity to the relatives. What I am saying, I suppose, is that there is a role for the heart as well as for the hands and the head. In my work as a Tutor, I would hope that as well as teaching the clinical skills, my students will absorb these ideals of attitude, and that, after I am gone, the ripple effect of my work will be like a stone cast into water; the results will still be rippling out and bringing care and kindness and compassion to those who need it most.
MMM Publications 1944 Ireland 04.09.2024
No house of our Congregation is complete without a cat or a dog and in Africa we have cats and dogs and other pets too. It is possible to train many wild animals if you get them young enough.
We have our own cat, a tiny blue Persian kitten. A boy brought it to me – a little bedraggled limp object, apparently dead. He said it had been bitten by a snake. It was scarcely breathing and I thought there was no hope. But I wrapped her in a warm woollen stocking and forced some brandy down her throat and I put her on a chair at the side of my bed. In the middle of the night, I was awakened by a great commotion.
Hurriedly, I lit my lamp and saw our dog, who slept outside our door, was being chased around the room by this minute kitten who was hissing and spitting like a steam engine and staggering, obviously still half-drunk from the brandy. The poor dog was terribly embarrassed. I suppose she had come in to investigate the stranger and this was the welcome she got. They became very friendly later on.
The next pet we had was a bush buck – a deer who lives in the bush. We had her presented to us on Christmas Eve in the morning. Its mother had been killed in the hunt and it was not yet able to feed itself although we were told it was. We left it at home all day with a plentiful supply of green food while we went about our work in the hospital. We were very busy, it being Christmas Eve, and also we had an emergency operation so we were late in coming home. When we arrived, we were greeted with “The deer near to die. He no able for to eat.” Again, we doctored the poor thing with brandy and tinned milk and put it in the kitchen by the fire. It soon revived and we fed it for a few days on milk until it was able to take green food for itself. It got very tame and would follow us about everywhere like a pet lamb.
by Sr. Monica Prendergast, MMM Ireland/Uganda 01.09.2024
We buried YOZEFU MARIA KAWUNGU this afternoon in a grassy area of our compound. It is the place (I consider it a sacred place) where destitute or poor patients who die here and have no relative to take them home, are laid to rest. And as I followed our workmen bearing the sheet wrapt body of YOZEFU, various thoughts surfaced. Hence came the seed of this short article which I write tonight.
Who was YOZEFU? We know very little about him, he came to the hospital in a very weak condition six days ago. It must have been a big effort to walk up our hill. He was lying on the grass near the Out-Patients and was helped in for examination and subsequent admission. He was breathless and looked so frail and anxious as he grasped his few meagre belongings in toil worn hands. He was a little elderly man with no known relatives which often surprises us in view of the extended family. However, this today is understandable, as he was originally from neighbouring Rwanda, so probably came from there years ago, seeking work as a cattle herder maybe, or could have been a political refugee, as that country is plagued with tribal conflicts. He was obviously very poor and could not afford to return to his native land. He died at 5.30am today, his possessions almost nil.
The men laid him in the grave, some nurses and myself were the officiating priestesses, as we said the customary LUANDA prayers, sang hymns and committed YOZEFU to the fresh brown earth. The birds in the nearby trees made a nice symphony, it was even’tide and the refrain from an old song of yester year came to mind “Birds song at even’tide, call me call me, to rest.”
At the end of the humble service, one of the men broke a tree branch, with deftness made a cross, and put it on the grave. We all left quietly each with his or her own thoughts…
There are of course thousands like YOZEFU in this era of refugees, who die far from home. Well, it was our privilege to help him to die in dignity, without doubt he sees the Lord “face to face”, and then, the words of that poem by GERALD MANLEY HOPKINS came vividly to me and gathered together my scattered questioning thoughts:
“In a flash, at a trumpet crash
I am all at once what God is
Since He was what I am, and
This jack, joke, poor potsherd,
Patch, matchwood, immortal diamond
Is immortal diamond”.
YOZEFU, who died penniless, and so many like him across our fair world are the unsung saints – The Immortal Diamond.
