by Sr. Keresifon Ekanem MMM Nigeria 16.10.2024
Oh dear! I felt frustrated when I received the news that the supervision team from the Ministry of Health (MOH) to our Facility had asked me to stop practicing as a Nurse/Midwife in my first country of mission for some reasons about country policy. So, I won’t meet the pregnant women again, and will stop catching babies? I will really miss this!
Not to worry, a thought flashed into my mind, “You will meet them when they come for antenatal care and the mothers when they come for immunization.” Great! I will have more time now to give health talk to them. I will also go for more sensitization and outreach in the neighboring villages as well as do other tasks. Sure, I did!
Meanwhile, there was a need for a sonographer in our Ministry and a suggestion to delve into this field emerged. I grabbed it. Thanks to my community members, and leaders who recommended and approved it. The experience was great, and I am excited with this new skill. The fear of studying in a foreign language and the struggle was soon forgotten.
Remember my initial feeling? Frustration! What followed that was really fantastic! I met more pregnant women on daily basis and was in contact with babies even from their different stages of development in the womb. A very interesting experience! This experience reveals at every moment the awesomeness of God in His work which is beyond human comprehension. God is great, worthy of our praise and reverence. I feel excited about my new knowledge, and I am passionate about my work as I put this skill into use. It offers me an opportunity to still give full attention to mothers and children and care for them. This happens each day as I attend to mothers to check for the movements, heartbeats, sex, presentation, and the general well-being of their fetuses in the womb.
I see a deep connection it has with the dream of Mother Mary Martin, our Foundress, whose primary aim of founding the Congregation is the “Care for Mother and Child.” Meanwhile, it also offers an opportunity to share a message of hope and bring Christ to those whose reports do not meet their expectations. These expectations range from non-existence of pregnancy for those who assume they are pregnant, loss of a pregnancy (miscarriage), or not having the desired sex of their fetus. Rendering my services to these women is healing both to themselves and to their spouses who when they learn of the care and attention they receive also long to come and most importantly for them to see how their fetuses (babies) are doing in the womb. This gives them so much joy! Nevertheless, I now have the opportunity to use all my skills in my new mission and it is very valuable!
Really, “A blessing in disguise it was!”
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM USA 13.10.2024
(continued from previous blog)
About three months into my surgical rotation, I received the news that I had to leave it and prepare to go to Uganda. I was shocked as well as pleased to be going on the missions to Uganda. Mr. Sheehan told me I would regret it. I was trying to follow what I had been told.
My parents wanted to see me before I left for Uganda but unfortunately my mother’ s brother died, and my father came with my brother, David, whom I had not seen for seven years. He was a boy of fourteen at a level with my shoulders when I left USA, and now he was a very handsome man of twenty-one, his six feet towering over me. I hardly recognized him. I was so extremely glad to see him. He showed me pictures of the beautiful woman, Judy, whom he intended to marry. Daddy liked her too. David stayed with the valet of Mother Mary’s brother and my Father stayed in the Guest Department. When it was time for David to leave, the kind valet packed his dirty clothes so well that the customs man in Kennedy airport thought he had bought new clothes in Ireland and wanted him to pay a fee. He had a tough time convincing him that these were his dirty clothes.
Mr. Sheehan, Dr. Connolly and their wives had been to a conference in Brooklyn, New York, a few months previously and my father had met them at Kennedy Airport and invited them home for dinner. They knew my father and invited him to their homes too. Dr. Marie Sheehan even gave my father the use of her car while he was visiting me.
I still had a few days of my rotation to finish but had time to show my father and David around the hospital. David and I had our picture taken on the roof where the Statue of the Visitation was placed. I could not get over how handsome he was and have treasured that picture.
We all had an enjoyable time together. We visited some od Dad’s friends at work who had retired in various places in Ireland. M We also visited Dublin, and I took him to see Miss Dowling, whom we visited in the Royal Home for the Incurables. She was a longtime friend of Sr. Magdalen O’Rourke. She was delighted to see us both. My father kissed her on the cheek, and this impressed her very much. She told me so when she sent me a Mass card six months later when she found out my father had died of a heart attack.
At that time, I was unaware that this may be the last time I would see Daddy alive, but he knew; as he told Sr. Mary O’Neill, who served him his meals in the Guest Department, that he would never see me again. She told me this in 1970 when I visited Drogheda on my first home leave from Uganda. But that is another story.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM USA 09.10.2024
It was with a heavy heart that my obstetrical internship had ended. I remember being puzzled at the excitement of Mr. Sheehan successfully removing a diseased kidney. The kidney was not crying and showed no signs of life, like a baby did. It took me awhile to get into the thrill of excising tumors and setting bones which would restore a person to full life again. Let me explain to American readers that a fully medically qualified surgeon gets the coveted tile of Mister for historical reasons. The other consultant on the Surgical team taught me the principles of surgery and I loved assisting at operations for both of them.
During the summer months, a few children were brought to the Casualty Department in a severe state of shock after being stung by a jellyfish. Fortunately, they could be resuscitated and come back to life. It was very frightening for all of us, family, and hospital staff. They had been swimming in the Irish Sea. The Gulf Stream comes up the west coast of Ireland and these creatures come with it. As I mentioned before, we had Clinical Clubs, and I decided to look up the mechanism of a jellyfish sting and found it to be the same mechanism as the instrument used in a duodenal-jejunum biopsy. Perhaps this procedure is not done any more, but the biopsy was taken when a little cutting edge was released. To me it looked exactly like what a jellyfish did to inject its venom.
Traffic accident victims were admitted quite often. Many did not survive because seat belts were just coming in then, and many people still did not use them. I was terrified at the thought that a split-second decision could mean life or death to these patients. Again, the Sister Nurses taught me valuable lessons on how to care for the patients. Just do the most needed procedure to save a life and forget your fears. Concentrate on the person in front of you who needs help. I am very indebted to all the MMM Sister nurse and lay staff who formed me into a Doctor who was able to function on the Missions with a heart and with confidence in God.
I found it remarkable how surgical repair of wounds produced much healing. Mr. Sheehan was particularly good at skin grafting and he taught me how to do this. It came in useful later in the Missions, especially when working with patients with severe burns.
As time went on, I liked what surgery entailed in examining patients for anaesthesia the night before surgery and talking to them about it. Now there is one day in Ambulatory Surgery.
Night call was especially challenging when patients came in haemorrhaging and trying to keep them alive with blood transfusions. The consultants would know when to watch and when to intervene with their years of experience, but I found it hard to know the difference. I kept in close contact with them on the phone.
Often those with surgical emergencies like appendicitis would be admitted during the night. Most often they could be operated on early the next morning. Again, it was a phone call to the consultant to determine the seriousness of the patient.
On two mornings a week we had ward rounds followed by attending the Surgical outpatients for new referrals and follow up visits. If I happened to be on call the night before I could sleep later and attend the 8:15 Mass celebrated in the hospital chapel. We would be ready for the rounds by 9AM. The other three mornings found us in the operating theatre. (to be continued…)
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 06.10.2024
It was a horrible feeling I had not had since I was a little girl. The painful experience of feeling like I was following razor blades made swallowing even water so unbearable that I had to go to the doctor. Tonsilitis was her verdict. The childhood memories returned and I recalled the painful experience I had not had for many years, thankfully.
It was so difficult to speak that I actually just gave up. I gargled with salt water and drank lemon, ginger and honey tea. I also took the antibiotics the doctor prescribed four times a day. Everything important would just have to wait. I surrendered.
While I was unable to speak and snuggled up in bed surrendering to just how awful tonsilitis feels even as an adult, a thought occurred to me. I am so dependent on my voice that when I am without it I feel so lost.
An unexpected spiritual silent retreat occurred over the weekend as I tried to heal. I was very aware of the privilege of being able to be in a warm and comfortable bed to heal. During my time visiting the missions in Africa, I was aware of how many people slept on concrete floors in their homes with no mattress.
I was also aware that I was able to see my GP easily and afford to pay for the visit and also the medication was ready at the chemist when I arrived because the GP’s admin had emailed them the prescription. I didn’t even have to wait for it to be sent.
As I reflected on how fortunate I was to be sick in a way that was temporary. I didn’t have something that would linger with the care I was getting. But, I thought of the people facing palliative care on concrete floors without any hope for healing or recovery.
My voice soon returned and I felt better within a few days armed with a great appreciation for the importance of my own voice. During my illness, I listened to our new MMM Podcast series. It is so wonderful now that we are able to share the voices of our own MMM Sisters with the world – in their own voices.
I was listening to Sr Mary Doonan describe what it was like when a new illness started to emerge in the missions in the early 1980s – a disease that we came to know as AIDS. What an incredible story to hear from a woman who was devoted to being there for people in their darkest hours. Now, we have come so far in the treatment of AIDS and HIV. What an incredible journey.
If you get some time and you haven’t already listened to our Sister Story Podcasts, please do. Each one is incredible. It is our goal to interview every MMM Sister we can so more will be coming each month. Stay tuned.
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!”
