by Sr. Prisca Ovat MMM Nigeria/Kenya 04.03.2023
My experience of a desert was live, not the one watched in movies, nor read in books. And I would say that not much has changed from the time I first saw photos of Turkana malnourished children many years ago. As we travelled along, I rather marvelled at the resilience that existed in the land. Both humans and animals learnt to survive with what was available. Cattle ate sticks, paper bags, and dried grasses which they would not have if they had a choice. They gazed eagerly at travellers for whatever they ate at stopovers, only to satisfy their hunger.
The long journey was endless as we travelled for hours. Just when I learnt we were in Lodwar, we could no longer travel to our destinations. Something was wrong. There were banditry activities ahead. Regrets soon replaced my excitement “Did we have to make this journey”? We waited by the roadside for so long, with hopes that a police van would accompany us through, but it was not to be. The driver then took the risk of proceeding. Thoughts came rushing through my mind, “If I opt to alight here, where I would go to, in the middle of nowhere, in a foreign land?”, and for a moment, I wondered if my companions and other travellers felt the same. Yes they did. The expression was all over their faces. Getting on to our host who zealously awaited our arrival at the other end, I said , “Just in case we do not arrive, this is what would have happened.” I explained that was me who had an opportunity to communicate. Many fall into death’s hands without a chance to reach out nor say goodbye. So, I began a silent prayer with my companions and waited for what laid ahead.
A few miles later we came upon a group of nomads with guns over their shoulders. I was so completely overwhelmed with fear that I suffered instant gastric pain. I knew why. They looked everything like the Fulani herdsmen I see on the news from home in Nigeria. T heir demeanour, the manner they held their guns, and their sad/angry looks. And I could not help but think of all the pain and suffering of my people – the kidnappings, killings and abuses people have been subjected to. I thought it was our last day.
Earlier on the journey, I watched the driver saving half-used bottled water, for whatever reason. Now the reason was clear. Every time we came across an armed Turkana, he threw out a bottle of water, and we just get a sad smile and moved on. Water was our saviour, so, all the bottles of water reserved for our journey were brought out “to save our heads”. And water indeed saved our heads. I reflected on water as a giver of life and a bringer of death. For thirst, we would have been victims of a government’s corrupt practices. There was no greater lesson on the judicious use of water than this. And if conscience is truly alive, no one would consciously misuse water after an experience as this.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM USA 02.03.2023
Sometime ago I wrote to you about protecting our children online. The situation seems to be getting worse and so many organizations were contacting their legislators without much avail to stop this child sexual material from appearing in so many online platforms. The ages of the children affected were getting as low as 5 to 7.
Recently, on January 27th, Mother Mary seemed to answer our prayers, in sending help through a man, Russ Tuttle, whose dynamic presentations in middle schools were reaching thousands of children to explain what was going on in words they could understand. I heard him speak online with glowing passion how to encourage children to tell their parents if they found something online which made them feel uncomfortable. For the younger children to say they found a secret and needed help to deal with it. For the twelve-year-olds, Russ called it a cockroach which could be got rid of with their parents help.
The reviews of the teachers, school nurses, law enforcement officers and many students from elementary grades to high school were excellent. The presenter was able to get to the students’ level and provided a way out of despair and feelings like wanting to commit suicide. The teachers were delighted in the enthusiastic approach of the students. They were listening to the reality of the situation and wanting help from their parents to combat this horrible situation.
Russ stressed the importance of building up the self-image of a child. Many feel lonely and have a need for a friend to understand them. Any online platform that has a chat box or message system can lead to an older man posing as a young friend and luring them into a meeting place. For more information about his presentation, please look at a short video on <Stop trafficking project.com/bealert.html>
Yes, there is a ray of hope! This dreadful situation of the world we live in today makes one think that nothing like this ever happened before. Yet after the Resurrection, the apostles were gathered together in fear and Jesus came through locked doors saying “Peace be with you. “ Our Holy Father, Pope Francis, repeats the message of Jesus today in his address to the people of the Democratic Republic of Congo. The following is taken from (GV) (Agenzia Fides, 1/2/2023)
“The peace of Jesus, ” which is also given to us in every Mass”, Pope Francis said in the first part of his homily, recalling the Gospel account of the first encounter of the Risen Jesus with his disciples, and read during the liturgy, “comes from the resurrection, because the Lord first had to defeat our enemies, sin and death, and reconcile the world to the Father. He had to experience our solitude and abandonment, our hell”. In this first encounter, the risen Jesus, greeting them with the words “peace be with you”, proclaims and delivers peace to his disciples even as his disciples’ hearts “were downcast”. Jesus’ peace arrived at the very moment when, suddenly and to their surprise, everything seemed to be over for them, without even a glimmer of peace. That is what the Lord does: he surprises us; he takes us by the hand when we are falling; he lifts us up when we are hitting rock bottom”. In this context, “in a world disheartened by violence and war, Christians must be like Jesus”. They keep peace in their hearts and offer it to the world, relying on what Jesus himself Pope Francis continues – points out to us as the three sources of peace: forgiveness, community, and mission.”
Yes, may families find these three sources of peace. Is this tragedy a call to a deeper sense of family life where parents and children are free to talk things over with one another? It is said that children these days never felt lonelier even though well connected by electronic devices. Is it a commitment to a deeper love and understanding of one another? -All finding a sense of purpose in life despite all the violence bombarding us from all sides. This is what the Holy Father is asking us to be “RAYS OF HOPE IN OUR TROUBLED WORLD.”
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 28.02. 2023
A friend of mine is pregnant and each week it is great to see her growing and being healthy. We are all delighted for her and how well she is thriving. It’s not easy being pregnant and I know as I have two sons of my own. She is often irritated in the delays at her antenatal checks as many other women are there too checking on their babies. We in the Western world are blessed with so much support for our expectant mothers. It is an investment in our future to take care of the mothers and their babies who they are preparing to deliver. Living in Europe we have some of the lowest rates of maternal or baby complications or deaths in the world. There is a reason for this. Antenatal or prenatal care correlates directly to the success of the baby’s delivery and the mother’s survival rate.
It is heart-breaking to see how high the maternal and infant mortality rates stay so high in parts of Africa and now also in Afghanistan. It is clear that where women have access to the health care they need, then they and their babies fare better. We also see that in the countries with the lowest mortality rates there are some obvious correlations. They are countries which have a high quality of living in general. They are also countries in which women are given a more equity. It is clear that there are places in the world that if you are born a woman, your life is automatically harder. It is also clear that there are places in the world that if you are going to become a mother, your life is not just harder but perhaps in jeopardy. I just don’t feel I can stand by and do nothing.
Another thing we know is that the further a woman has to travel for antenatal care the less likely she will go. Imagine expecting a pregnant woman to walk dozens of miles or kilometres to receive care. It’s not even fair to ask. To be honest, I find the hardship women face in becoming mothers physically, medically, emotionally and mentally to be staggering. It is unthinkable that women especially younger women or even girls in some countries are too far from care, so face this alone or with no knowledge of what is happening to them or to their babies. I was so glad to hear that the MMM has added yet another maternity clinic near a slum. We were so happy to hear that the proceeds from our Christmas Craft Fair will go to this clinic. We were so enthused we are eager to raise more. We want to be part of the solution and let women know they are cared about.
We are now doing our STEPS FOR HOPE 2023. We are walking or running for all of Lent 1km or 2km a day for 40 days. With each step, I am aware of how fortunate I am to be able to walk and be safe and healthy. I am aware of how many women cannot safely walk or how many women are forced to walk to get water, not even medical care. It is so important that we don’t give up on the people we may never see who are in need of care. My pregnant friend is walking with us. She realises how important this is and I know she wants to do everything she can to help other mothers and is trying to help by walking in their shoes.
If you would like to join us in walking or donate to Steps For Hope 2023 here is the link. https://www.idonate.ie/event/stepsforhope2023
by Sr. Joanne Kelly MMM Ireland 26.02.2023
One morning I took a walk in our garden. The walk through the garden rises in a long gentle slope lined on the right by four almond trees now stripped and bare in this winter season. It was a mild morning. Rain had fallen earlier and a weak winter sun was trying to pierce the clouds. I walked up the slope, past those dark damp trees and noticed nothing.
I turned to come back and what a transformation! A weak shaft of sunlight had broken through and touched all four trees. Every branch and every little twig had held on to its raindrops and were now sparkling with a myriad of little silver lights shining in this dark morning. It was quite spectacular- a complete transformation, a real winter wonder.
It set me thinking about what kind of light can transform a person whose future seems too dark.
I once knew a man who lived near to where I was working in a village for people suffering from leprosy at a time when people with leprosy had to be segregated. He was the first person in his village to qualify as a trained teacher and the whole village was very proud of him. I will call him Simon.
He had great plans but sadly he contracted leprosy. It was a terrible blow to him and he just could not believe it or accept it. He was in complete denial, refusing to come for treatment until eventually the chief and people, fearful for others, sent him out of the village.
Our sister doctor heard about him. She and her mobile team sought him out and brought him to the leprosy village and started him on treatment. He absconded several times but each time they went in search of him and brought him back. He was neglecting himself and by then he was showing more physical signs of the illness.
There were young children in the village at the time, some who had leprosy and others whose parents had it. They attended the village primary school. Their teachers were young men who themselves had not gone further than primary school. These young men were encouraged to ask Simon for guidance and no matter how sullen or uncooperative he was they showed him great respect and appreciated any help he gave, however reluctantly it was given. .
It is a long story but Simon eventually became principal of that school and many of his students went on to secondary school, and a few to university. He became a strong leader in the village and in the church.
Many, many years later I was assigned back to that area. I visited the village some evenings and on my way back would visit Simon, now living with his wife Maria in the new house their son had built for them. He had retired from school but was still the Church Catechist.
As he sat on the veranda in his armchair in the cool of the evening Simon enjoyed nothing better than to talk about all the MMM sisters who had worked there and all the other staff and village people who had given him a reason to live. He told of the many times he tried to hide from them but now thanked God for their care and compassion, and their resolute perseverance. His face would light up as he told his stories, remembering each one, their characters, their ways of working and so many near disasters or funny instances. He was so proud of his wife and their son.
His life had been transformed by love.
by Vera Grant AMMM Ireland 24.02.2023
I always liked my granny. Some of my sisters didn’t but that didn’t matter. I did. She was called Rose, was born in 1883 and died in 1976 when I was 26 years old.
As a teenager I remember walking down the Antrim Road on a Saturday morning to help her with the housework. In my bag I carried the clothes into which I would change for the cleaning. I wore my good clothes, the raspberry coloured trousers which to me, were gorgeous and certainly caught the eye.
Those mornings always seemed to be bright and sunny though now on reflection I think that was how I felt sashaying down the Antrim Road. Granny always had ready a cup of tea with some of her homemade soda bread and butter and her rhubarb jam.
I felt quite grown up sitting beside her in the kitchen, discussing what jobs needed doing. Some days I didn’t even have to change my clothes as there was very little to do. Maybe my granny just liked me coming to have a chat and she always gave me one shilling which then was worth twelve pennies. It was a small silver coin and pocketed quickly in case she felt I hadn’t done enough to earn it. She never commented.
My granny came to mind when I was reading a recent blog on celebrating young people and I thought of her and the richness and wisdom she shared. This was highlighted after my “away” weekend to be pampered, according to my daughter. She insisted we were going, not only to experience the beautiful hotel and the magnificent grounds, but we were going to be actively involved in using the Spa, having a swim, and treating ourselves to some body / facial massages.
We did all of that, but the pool area was swarming with beautiful young bodies, shiny, smooth and tanned in spite of it being Winter, and a lot of exposed flesh. We had on our swimsuits and felt very much ‘the older generation’ and that included my daughter whose 40th birthday is looming. We had a lovely time but it was nice to get home and feel comfortable in my own skin and surroundings.
I thought about all that had happened over the weekend and realise that I enjoy and like the company of older people. In fact I realised that I surround myself with them. We play bridge together and I regularly go to visit a number of neighbours who are in their late 80s and live alone. I am always offered a cup of tea and, whilst not homemade soda bread and jam, it can be scones, apple tart or even an all-time favourite, dark chocolate digestive biscuits.
Being with them we share stories, we laugh and are always amazed at how much we have in common. We often share the same viewpoint on the current newsworthy topics. When leaving they always say, ’now, won’t you come back again soon?’
Perhaps to them at 72 I am young, well younger than they are. If, according to recent research, ‘multigenerational friendships help maintain a youthful outlook’, I hope my granny felt that when I visited her. I know when I leave my older friends I feel thankful, joyful and forever young.
by Sr. Noeleen Mooney Ireland 23.02.2023
The Healing Charism is a gift I have been given. It comes with responsibility.
It involves:
Coaxing – that those who feel they can’t, because of age or infirmity, may discover that they can, with just a little help. Can I give it?
Compassion – when ears don’t hear, and news and views become distorted and entangled.
Can I untangle, gently?
Patience – with slowing minds, hesitant steps and much repetition of phrases, stories, experiences.
Can I listen with the ear of the heart?
Accompanying – long hours in Emergency Departments or waiting for hospital appointments. Here reassurance is of paramount importance, especially in the face of the unknown or the painful.
Can I sit quietly, yet be fully alert?
Being watchful – for the glasses that go astray; for the book that keeps moving; for the puzzled look that might indicate a wrong floor or room. For a forgetting of where I was heading or even who you are. Can I smile, redirect, reassure and just be there?
Will all this help me in my declining years?
Thankfully that is shrouded in mystery, and the unfolding is a day-by-day gift of life at its most vulnerable yet most precious.
“You want to be Christ’s disciples: then do not count the cost…. Nothing, even death, can separate you from Him in whom you are rooted and founded.” MMM Constitutions
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 22.02.2023
Recently I came across a definition of Lent as celebrated in the Eastern Orthodox tradition as “bright sadness”. I love this idea. It speaks to the heart of the matter. The forty days of Lent are a preparation for us to celebrate the miracle of Easter. Yes, we want to have a time to prepare, to make our lives simpler, to increase our alms-giving, but no one said we need a dreary period. That was the memory of Lent I had as a child – no sweets, no chocolate, no sausages, or meat. I grew to hate fish! It was “no” to everything.
Instead, the idea of “bright sadness” reminds us that we are sad that Jesus had to go through torture and death for us, but the brightness is that Jesus did that for us. For each one of us, for you and for me. Now, if that does not provoke immense gratitude and a wide smile, nothing else will.
So, the sadness of Lent is always tempered by the thought of the Resurrection. Death is not the end. As our liturgy for the dead reminds us, life is changed, not taken away. Each year I am challenged during Lent to begin to see the seeds of new life appearing. It happens in nature, in springtime with new branches on the trees, new buds on flowering plants. There are lambs in the fields.
But new life also happens in people. You can see it is someone recovering from an illness. I watch a young mother learn how to care for her new-born baby. I see the courage of our older MMMs, returning to their home countries after several years away and gradually taking new steps in ministry in their native lands.
This Lent we are starting with countries at war, with natural disasters and other climate extremes brought upon by our own human greed in burning fossil fuels. Our tendency to hate, to be violent, or maybe even worse, to be indifferent, is always with us. Yes, it is good to have a period of stripping, of cleansing and purification. But never let go of the idea of brightness. Christ has overcome the worst of it all in his resurrection.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 20.02.2023
Our first daffodil made its appearance in full flower on January 25th this year. Yes, it is earlier than usual, but we have had a reasonably mild winter and no doubt climate change hurried things along.
As I stood looking at the lone flower in the garden, I was wondering what the daffodil thought about as it opened up. Was it surprised to see it was the only one? Or was it encouraged so see its companions in bud, just a little bit slower in the process?
It made me think about our Founder, Mother Mary Martin. On January 27th each year we celebrate her entry into eternal life. She was a pioneer in her day too. But I am guessing that she was so busy being, as she would put it, an instrument of God’s work, that she would not have seen herself as a pioneer at all.
When it comes down to it, pioneers are those people who can see connections and make the necessary links before anyone else. They take the work of others, tilt their head to study it from a new angle and experiment. When she started out on her career, did Marie Curie know she would discover radium? Did she realise the profound difference the discovery would make in generations after her own, in diagnosis, in cancer treatment? Probably not.
Likewise, Mother Mary saw the need of women in Nigeria needing care at childbirth and of infants and young children dying unnecessarily due to preventable illnesses, and she founded our group of professional women, the Medical Missionaries of Mary to do something about it.
There is another sense in which each one of us is called to be a pioneer. We have all received so much but each day presents new challenge. Nowadays we need to relook at our consumer economy with its greed and corporate destruction of the planet. We need to find solutions and to find them quickly. We are only 90 seconds away from disaster as the Doomsday Clock tells us. So, each of us are called to be pioneers in today’s world. Let’s roll up our sleeves and solve this problem!
by Sr. Prisca Ovat, MMM Nigeria/Kenya 18.02.2023
The following of Christ for some may have been influenced by friends, but for a greater percentage, both parents would have been devout Christians and Catholics. They would wake children out of bed at 6 am for the usual morning devotion. There is yet another percentage to which I had belonged, where only one parent, and very often the mother, was a staunch catholic.
Times change in an unrecognizable way. Devotion to the things of God comes in second place. As such, pious organizations still existing in the church are attended by the very parents who pioneered them. In very many circumstances, youths will appear in church only in the company of their parents. “It’s a digital world, and youths are busy with other things, but if you want us to be active in church, you have to show us how to make money by doing so” one said.
In the typical Nigerian church where Christians, and in some parts Catholics, are too religious, or “holier than the Pope” as often expressed, all women, young and old must have a scarf over their heads while in church or whenever they pray. I still admire my mother who never hesitates to grab any piece of cloth next to her, clean or dirty, to put over her head even for indoor prayers. The use of trousers at home was a sign of a girl whose morality had been compromised, to say less of being in church. No one ever thought that this would become a possibility, it was a terrible sacrilege. The emphasis on piety was so resolute that children began to rebel as they grow up, though without a show of disrespect to the parents. So, as they leave their homes for college, they leave Catholicism behind for their parents to mind while they identify with the multiple protestant churches with liberty to how you are dressed to church. They will usually have 2 sets of outfits; maxi skirts/long sleeves for village life and trousers/crop tops for college and social life.
While many parents anguish over the faith, some others still have rays of hope beaming. They learn to accept the fact that even a divine concept as spirituality faces evolution. Young people are rather searching for faith and truth in a way that is meaningful to them, even though tradition may be at risk of extinction. The heart melts away with joy when young people are willing to make daring sacrifices for what they have discovered to be their truth. Look at the photo. They have the conviction and the courage to transcend all hard times. “Risk taking is normal, as no sacrifice is too great for God. This, for us, is our Emmaus walk” one of them said to me as they took the 6km walk in the rain to attend a music festival. “It is imperative,” as I often encourage the families I journey with, “to bless your children with the gift of your loving presence in their search for a meaning in life. This way, they will not be misled by strangers, neither will they regard your guidance as an imposition.”
Today, more than ever, FAITH is becoming an endangered virtue, yet spirituality must remain an intrinsic part of us. Everyone believes in something or someone.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM USA 16.02.2023
My heart was pounding loudly with excitement as the fog horns screamed welcome to the shores of Ireland. Our little tug boat which received us from the large cruise ship, Mauritania, was gliding into the harbor. My thoughts also drifted to my great grandfather, John Twomey who was born in COBH in 1842 and had migrated to the USA sometime in the 1860’s. I felt very close to my Irish heritage and here I was about to put my feet on the same soil. “A little bit of heaven,” as the song goes.
Soon we were heralded by the shouts of the Ashe family. Sr. Gabriel and I were Sisters who had been in the Novitiate together in Winchester MA. I had loved listening to the tales of Sr. Gabriel Ashe’s family and now the whole large clan of them were down at the boat to meet us. I can only remember her parents and Seamus and Sean. Often at night, I would hear Gabriel talk in Gaelic about them in her dreams. I felt her joy of seeing them again after five years of separation.
The next event was claiming our luggage. We had 12 large boxes of goods for the Sale of Work in Dublin and I was wondering what would happen. Then I saw the custom officer give a wide smile to Mother Mary as he deftly chalked clearance on all our luggage. Mother Mary had driven from Drogheda to meet us and it was so exhilarating to see her again. She welcomed the four of us, Sisters Martha Collins, Gabriel Ashe, Sr. Guadeloupe from Mexico and my self. Sr. Guadeloupe was a postulant from Mexico who later returned home. Mother took us to a beautiful hotel in Cork for lunch. I can remember walking up the stairs to the dining hall like I had sea legs, drifting left and right. I was astonished at this and wondered when the rocking motion of the waves would stop within me.
The meal was delicious and my eyes turned like big saucers when I saw the dessert trolley arriving. Could I please have a little slice of three of the gorgeous pastries set before us? I was wondering how expensive all this would be when Mother told us that the priests at the adjoining table had paid our bill. In thanking them, we recognized that they too had been on the boat with us. We all appreciated their kindness.
The next big hurdle was to get into the car with Mother Mary. I had never experienced a right-hand drive on a left lane road. I can remember ducking when a truck came along in the opposite direction and I was terrified he would drive into us. It took a while to get used to this. In mid-afternoon, we stopped near the Rock of Cashel. Mother said she wanted to say her Evening Prayer, and that we might enjoy climbing the hill. It really was great fun to do so and run down again. The next stop was to pull into the driveway of John Mc Cormack’s home. I had heard records of his songs and I felt close to his presence there.
Around 5 pm, Mother Mary stopped in Portlaoise to make a phone call to Rosemount in Dublin. She wanted to tell the Sisters that the American Sisters like pancakes for supper. I thought that was very kind of her. Later, I found that Mother Mary liked them too, and usually had them for lunch whenever she visited Rosemount.
The pancakes were beautifully served in a large parlor in Rosemount. The Sisters were very kind in welcoming us and made us feel at home. It was after 8pm when we arrived in Drogheda. It was overwhelming to see so many Sisters. I was glad we soon were shown where we would sleep for the night. The chosen site was the infirmary where a Sister on night duty prepared her bed for you and you would do the same for her in the morning. There were many Sisters to accommodate and everyone was doing their best. It had been a long and exciting day and we were thankful to have at last arrived at the motherhouse.
The next morning, Mother Oliver brought me a cup of tea to take before going out to 10 o’clock Mass in the town. Mother asked me how old I was and I replied I would be 20 next week. I do not remember many details of the next ten days except I needed to get my hair cut and set in a presentable way for entrance into University College, Dublin. Sister Celine Jones, who was assigned to cook the meals in the Maternity Hospital, came to my rescue one Friday. She had such a lovely cheerful spirit, in spite of her hands smelling like fish, and while fixing my hair told me all about their recent play of Midsummer Night Dream. She had been one of the fairies and I could just enjoy it all from her vivid account.
Soon it was time for Sr. Gabriel Ashe to begin her nursing studies and for Sr. Martha Collins and I to depart from Drogheda and start our medical studies in Dublin. And that is another story…
