by Sr. Lucia Lynch MMM Ireland 26.11.2022
It was like any other morning in the Outpatients with patients sitting around awaiting treatment. Nurse Nyirenda came and gave a short health talk. As she finished, she glanced around to notice a young man sitting there with a look of great pain on his face. It was then she saw a pool of blood at his feet. Immediately she escorted him to the dressing room, just in time before he fainted. On examination, the man had a deep wound on his leg which was haemorrhaging a lot. As the nurse rendered first aid and prepared for suturing the wound, the man told her his story.
His name was Mr. Kamwenda and her lived about eight kms away near the Shire River, in Malawi ,where he had a maize field and a vegetable garden.
That morning around dawn he was busy hoeing and weeding his maize field when he saw a big hippo emerging from the river and entering the field. The hippo came towards him and Mr. Kamwenda immediately lay flat on the ground not moving a muscle as he watched the large animal descending on him. In an instant the man put out his leg and thrust it into the hippo’s mouth. What happened next was like a miracle. It seems that the hippo couldn’t do anything since his large teeth and huge laws could not sever the leg – instead he let o and as he did so one long canine dug deep into the man’s leg. Mr. Kamwenda did not dare cry out.
Once his leg was released, he lay very still acting as if he were dead. Opening his eyes, he watched the hippo gazing fiercely down at him, so in a final effort, Mr. Kamwenda thrust out his arm. The hippo only grazed it with his teeth causing a skin abrasion. All this time, Mr. Kamwenda was praying to God to deliver him from this terrible beast. The next moment, the hippo left him and disappeared once more into the wide river. Calling for help, his neighbours came running and carried Mr. Kamwenda on a bicycle to our clinic. He knew he had come very close to death that morning and could only say “Tithokoze Mulungu, Tithokoze Mulungu”. Thank God, thank God.
Surely Mr. Kamwenda was a brave man. He had no wish to stay in the clinic. As soon as his wound was sutured and he had received a tetanus injection, he was carried back by bicycle to his village. We saw him on his return visits to Outpatients, his wound healed well. Later he came with to us a basket full of cucumbers, from his farm on the Shire River.
First published in MMM Magazine 1992.
by Sr. Joanne Bierl MMM U.S.A. 24.11.2022
The Thanksgiving holiday has always been the most important to me even as a child. It is built on a simple concept of giving thanks…less commercial than most holidays. There are many different opinions about the origin of the day (1863) and it is true that the early colonists in the United States did not generally appreciate and honor the indigenous American Indian cultures. In fact, we have yet to deal with the way early Americans decimated these cultures. It is also true to say that those cultures already contained ways of giving thanks and celebrating bounty. Regardless, the concept of a day set aside to give thanks is one that has meaning for many up to 2022.
The joy of this day was one that could be celebrated in different cultures and countries as an MMM. I have some very happy memories of Ireland, England, Kenya, Ethiopia and Honduras celebrating this day…gathering people together with prayer, food, drink, and a sense of gratitude for being alive despite all the circumstances of life!
In the years since studying the Latino culture and living in Honduras it has taken on even a richer meaning for me. It is the entire month of November becoming a month of remembering and giving thanks. It begins in early November with the “day of the Dead” and continues through the month. Many churches in the USA with strong Latino membership create beautiful altars in their churches with photos of all their deceased loved ones that keep company with the living all through the month. It has been a custom now to prepare an altar in our MDO office with the photos and memorial cards of all those who have died and are part of our lives…to celebrate and give thanks for them and end the month with the holiday of Thanksgiving.
We all have our traditional recipes and foods for that day and in the USA, it is a big day of gathering, cooking together, and watching football. And yet, the simple concept of saying “thank you” has great meaning for many. That spirit of living with a grateful heart is one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit. We all long for that! Happy thanksgiving!
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 22.11.2022
This week we celebrate Thanksgiving and soon it will be Christmas. Both these feasts are traditional times for family members to travel long distances to be together to celebrate. They travel, and they “come home”. For some time now I have been thinking about this concept. I suppose being a missionary and spending my life “on the move” aids the reflection!
Coming home seems such a natural thing to do after being far flung and scattered. Do not the Artic geese travel thousands of miles to return to nesting grounds? Salmon make the long journey from deep ocean to the very rivulet or stream where they were spawned. So, coming home seems natural, sems right and fitting. Coming home denotes safety and security. Boats will return to a safe harbour before the approaching storm. It is in coming home that I am known and accepted as I am. Trust and intimacy appear to be bound up with this process of coming home.
And yet when I turn to my own experience in ministry, “coming home” becomes a might more complicated! In the past I have worked with women for whom “coming home” meant coping with abusive or battering husbands, often alcoholic or on drugs. I have watched children run the city streets, feeling safer there than in a home where they are abused, molested, or beaten by parents or stepparents. Coming home, for some, can be a frightening experience.
Even as a child, in a relatively secure and loving family, coming home can also be a complicated business. I remember once returning from Donegal and not being met at the train station by some miscommunication. My friend’s parents brought me home, much to my parents’ relief. But I was inconsolable – my mother told me how I sobbed and sobbed for hours, and nothing seemed to relieve it. As a child I could not figure out what was wrong but looking back now I wonder if trust or security had not been torn from me that day.
In 2020 I “came home” in a different sense after many years away, working in Brazil and then in USA for a time. It has had its bewildering moments. Who are all these people that others seem to know? Who are all these politicians, singers, actors? Who was in Government anyway when I left? Things fade in the mists of time, and I scramble around snatching at memories to help me re-insert. Sometimes, still, I find myself letting the conversation flow around me, trying to catch up and understand. When I sit there with an intelligent look on my face, I feel an awful fraud!
But coming home to Ireland brings its own warm feelings too. I had remembered the cold but forgotten the dark. My God, the dark of an Irish winter! But after the days of darkness come the daffodils. I can see them from my bedroom window and the chapel, and they nod at me when I start the day. I discover primroses again and watch the big fat birds waddling across the lawn. They are as big as the cats in Brazil! Then there are all those pretty daisies in the grass, and the sudden unexpected pleasure at the sound of a small stream babbling along, jumping between rocks and mossy banks. Coming home can indeed be sheer delight.
Another delight in coming home is in being welcomed. Meeting friends again, finding a connectedness and an understanding in the half-told story. Being welcomed is a nurturing and a warmth. The genuine goodness of people comes to the fore, in taking in the stranger.
Coming home reminds me also of my inner journey, now well on in my second half of life. When young, we fling ourselves out into the world to use our gifts and find our talents. Now it is time to come home, home to myself as a person. I come home in accepting myself, and in a certain cherishing and gentle nurturing of the person I have become. I come to see my not-so-pleasant character traits, but not berate or punish myself. Coming home to self asks me to treat others and myself with gentleness and compassion.
Finally, we can also look towards our final “coming home”. I do not know when the end of the journey will be, but I suspect that all the frets and present worries will fade away as the early morning mists are burnt off with the rising sun. Our final coming home is into the embrace of God. This is the God who has seen me from afar, has a heart brimming over with love and compassion, and who runs to embrace and kiss me. This love asks only one thing – my loving surrender into that embrace.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 20.11.2022
Sometimes I have ideas that seem good at the time, but as they progress the complexity makes me question my judgment.
As the Communications Coordinator, I thought it would be a “good idea” for our MMM Sisters in Drogheda to create crafts and have a Christmas Craft Fair. I felt it was something that the MMM Sisters used to do in the past and would be a positive step for us after the isolation of Covid 19. I am fortunate to work with a wonderfully collaborative team who, at their own peril, humour me too often.
So, on Saturday, 26 November 2022, we will host our MMM Christmas Craft Fair in Drogheda in the Auditorium. I have a long history of creating community fundraising events so I know it comes with a long list of things to do. Things going on the list, things being crossed off the list and something coming back onto the list when you thought they were done. I am experienced enough to know what we need so the day will be a memorable one for the right reasons!
It occurred to me that it would be a “good idea” to host a few craft-making afternoons in the run up to the craft fair so MMM Sisters in the convent could be involved. This was a decision made in good faith and the date scheduled and sign up sheets went up. To our delight, 22 MMM Sisters signed up to come.
“I hope you have something for them all to do,” my colleague, Sr Sheila Campbell said, part in jest and part as a wakeup call. (In all teams you need a realist to ground you!) She was right. I did need a plan. I met with the Crochet teacher at the convent who was quick to come up with brilliant craft ideas for the Sisters and I had a few myself. I have heard it said that the “Road to Hell is paved with good intentions…” So as I scrambled to different locations to buy all the supplies we needed; I was in my own personal hell.
I preserved telling myself that if the MMM Sisters could give their lives to traveling to new countries and working in challenging conditions I could survive craft preparation tasks. The night before I was cutting our felt Christmas Trees, snowmen and circles. I felt like Santa’s bad elf who had left things to the last minute and was now hustling to catch up. I would like to tell you this is unusual for me but truthfully, it is not.
On the day of the craft making, the Sisters came into the room and quickly identified the craft or card-making they were willing to try. As I sat at the craft table with the felt, some Sisters were asking for assistance while some were quick to tell me “I can do that myself.” As we chatted it was so lovely to hear the Sisters talk about the past and just get to know them better. It turned out that two of the Sisters next to me had been surgeons in Africa – and I was going to help them sew! Silly me. I was so moved to hear stories of becoming a surgeon or doctor when very few women were doing that kind of work in the world.
It hit me that often times, things are not what they seem. So often people are quick to judge or quick to gauge a situation and we have it all wrong. You cannot judge a book by its cover is so true, but it’s so worth opening that book and learning the precious stories within it.
I was so uplifted by the Sisters’ stories and the methodical way they approached their crafts with the serious view to do something exceptional. Jolene, my other colleague, was delighted by her experience at the Craft card-making table and enjoyed herself fully. Some of the candles came out so well the Sisters wanted to buy them. I had to say “wait till the Craft Fair or we will have no merchandise!”
I was so glad that I had taken the steps to put the craft afternoon together. The time seemed to fly by and my only regret was that it was over so soon.
If you live in Ireland, please consider visiting us at the Convent Auditorium for the Craft Fair so you see what we created! Thank you to all the Sisters who joined us and created crafts or donated items for the Craft Fair. We deeply appreciate your efforts.
by Vera Grant AMMM Ireland 18.11.2022
It was my seat. It was at the end of the pew and I sat there every Sunday morning for ten o’clock Mass. Over the years I had grown to recognise many, who like me sat in the same pew. What creatures of habit we are I used to think to myself.
There were times though when I felt restricted, bounded on either side by those familiar faces. Some I knew by name, others I acknowledged with a nod or when allowed, by a shake of the hand. They were faces I liked and felt fortunate in sharing the same space even if at times I had to give up my seat and move along should someone arrive late. I didn’t mind that but I felt much stronger about those who arrived late and stood in the aisle wanting to push in. Awful I know but ….
Often I wondered what was it like for those who sat on the other side. Were they watching us as we watched them? Also, they had to receive communion from the Eucharistic Minister whereas we on the right, received from the Priest. Was it something about being on God’s right hand side that we chose our places?
One morning as I pushed open the heavy wooden door I was stopped and asked to accompany a visitor. Nodding in agreement I was surprised to find myself immobilised by a firm hand on my shoulder, directing me robot style in a different direction. Instinctively I hesitated and was about to say, ‘Oh I sit over there’ but something stopped me and I allowed myself to be led to what seemed to be unfamiliar territory.
Once seated, I smiled to myself at the strangeness of the situation. I felt like Goldilocks taking someone else’s chair and I sat not quite nervously but excitedly and with a sense of boldness which made me want to laugh out loud.
Some turned round to say hello, others leaned forward to smile in greeting and some nodded in welcome. It felt good and walking home I couldn’t stop smiling at all that had happened in changing one small action.
I felt a sense of wholeness and connectedness. We all belong, anywhere, everywhere – there’s a pulse beating for you, for me, for us all.
Give it a go, one small change can bring a newness, a freshness, a lightness and it is a gift, a gift of opportunity.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 16.11.2022
There are times in life when we look at how much there is to do in the world and wonder where to begin. If we focus too much on the bad news, our efforts can seem minor in comparison. When I read into the details of war, famine, drought, injustice, violence and climate decline, I grow weary. We do what we can in our work to counteract these thing but is it ever enough? As the Communications Coordinator for the Medical Missionaries of Mary, I have a wonderful job. I love the MMM Sisters and staff who I work with and I am uplifted and inspired by work that we do in the world.
What does challenge me sometimes is what story to tell or how hard to drive home a point about the struggles and strife our MMM Sisters face in the world. We have a lot to do and limited resources at times to do it. So how do we stay motivated?
It can be tiring to look at the way the world is operating and the choices that some people make at the expense of other people – especially children. The actions of people globally can be distressing and disappointing. We need to keep up with the news and know what is going on in the world, yet, we can also be deflated by how negative things can get. There is a lot of drought, famine and injustice going on and it always seems that the most vulnerable are the ones who are hardest hit. We do our best to make life better for as many people as possible but resources don’t always allow for all we can do or want to do.
The key to this seems to be in making sure we don’t get carer’s fatigue. In trying to do good work in the world we can exhaust ourselves. I am often reminded by my colleague Sr Sheila that in “loving our neighbour as our ourselves”, we have to love ourselves first. It is an on-going effort and hard to do when we are depleted. So, part of our work in saving the world has to involve efforts to save ourselves too. We have to be brave but we also have to keep ourselves renewed in our faith and in our efforts of self-care.
I am also reminded of Galatians 6:9, “Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary.” This is a very powerful reminder that as we do good, we must pace ourselves not to grow too tired. Weary is a loaded word, reflecting the draining way we can become if we lose sight of the big picture. It is important that we find harmony in what we do. I don’t know that balance is possible as it seems a bit mythical in expectation. Things do not always go our way and people can be challenging. How we carry ourselves forward requires some self-renewal each day.
We can only give what we have. Many of us have heard that you can’t pour from an empty cup. So, I hope you will join me in finding ways to fill your cup this week. Lean on the ways that uplift and replenish you. Listen to your body and take care of it as the constant companion it is. More than anything, do not lose heart. We are all in this together.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM U.S.A. 14.11.2022
The Ashes will sit in the front pew. This is what I remember from our reception into the novitiate on September 8th, 1956. I thought it sounded funny, but Sr. Gabriel Ashe had a large family, and it was good to see them at the ceremony. All my family and two high school friends came to share my joy. Our postulant days were over, and we sensed a new beginning of deepening our relationship with Jesus and the Medical Missionaries of Mary. We were getting to know one another and to learn what it means to be a missionary.
Our life was amazingly simple combined with household tasks, prayer, conferences, recreation, and outside groundwork. Every Friday we had adoration of the Blessed Sacrament from early morning to before supper. I loved the quiet of the chapel and the beautiful woodwork. It had once been a ball room for dancing. The orchestra were up in the present choir loft. Every evening at 7 PM the radio in the choir loft was put on to hear Cardinal Cushing recite the rosary. He had a loud melodious voice and I loved praying with him. In the summer months the windows of the chapel were open, and I could hear the motorboats cruising in the Mystic Lake near where we lived. My father had told me that he knew I had a vocation if I could spend the summer in the convent without wanting to come home and live in our bungalow by the sea. I must say, I often went out in the boat with Jesus in prayer. I loved the water very much.
During our Spiritual Year we had two visits from our family. After traveling back to New York in a blinding snow storm my father was hesitant to come again at Christmas. He doubted they would get home alive. Thank God, they did, and all went well.
Sister Visitation Chambers came to visit us. She was working in Ogoja with the leprosy patients. The first-year novices spent Saturday afternoons sorting medical samples which were donated. We took the extra wrapping off and put the tablets together and shipped them to Ogoja. We were delighted to hear all about Ogoja and the patients with Hansen’s Disease.
The second-year novices visited Holy Ghost Hospital in Cambridge and spoke to the patients. One elderly lady was in a crib and told me she liked the Scripture passage of Ephesians, One Lord, One Father of us all. I always think of her when I hear that passage being read or spoken of.
The second-year novices also were sent out to do Mission Appeals. There was a passage in the 1940 Constitutions which said that the Sisters must not blush at poverty. I came back from one appeal with a red face and told Mother Margaret O’Conor that I could not help blushing for poverty. When I extended the pole with a bag attached down the pew, I kept on almost knocking the ladies hats off. Thank God that practice did not last long.
Although we lived in a mansion, the spirit of poverty was always with us. We were conscious of the need to raise money for the Mission Houses as well as our own. We novices repaired holes in sheets for a linen company and made vestments to sell in our gift shop among other things like hosting Communion Breakfasts for the Women’s Committee and Lawn Parties.
Soon it was getting time for Profession and Mother Mary was going to visit us in June 1958. Matron Phelan from Drogheda was accompanying her. I asked permission to get up a little earlier and write a play for Mother Mary. It was the centenary of Our Blessed Mother appearing in Lourdes to St. Bernadette. I used the book “The Song of Bernadette.” All the novices picked out their parts from a hat. Sr. Bernadette Kenny picked out Bernadette and did an excellent job. All went well until Bernadette was dying and Sr. Catherine Ann did not get the music going on time and we all started to giggle. The play soon ended but Mother Mary seemed pleased with our efforts. Mother saw each of us individually which was a great thrill for all of us to meet her. She told us news of the novices in Drogheda at that time and we felt connected somehow.
Our two months preparation for First Profession was spent in the usual work but the afternoon recreation was given to quiet time outside or up on the hill. The day, September 8th, 1958, came when we, Gabriel Ashe and I vowed ourselves to God for one year as Medical Missionaries of Mary. My two brothers were there as altar servers and saw me smiling all the time. I was incredibly happy. I thanked God for His mercies in completing the novitiate and now begged for further help in traveling to Ireland to pursue medical studies and fulfill my dream of being a missionary to Africa.
That is another story.
by an unknown MMM author Ireland 12.11.2022
How often have you walked into the greeting ‘God sent you’ or ‘you’ve been on my mind’. Our Lady’s journey through the hill country was a concerned visit to her cousin Elizabeth. Pondering the words and happenings she had heard from the angel, recalling the awe of the Annunciation, gave a sense of urgency to Mary’s journey. Her urgency was to lend a friendly hand and helping presence; which was welcomed by her cousin. ‘God has sent you’ the greeting and the embrace of the two women expresses the concern each hold for the other. Both in a unique way knew God’s creative power; both were experiencing totally unexpected pregnancies. They were on each other’s mind.
In the mind of Mother Mary Martin was the urgent need to bring modern health care to Africa especially to mothers and young children. Secondly, but equally important, was the training of women in family health care. From her own strong family bonds she was profoundly aware of the influence of mothers in the home. Family support was of the very fabric of life in Africa, very evident and obviously to be supported. She saw the distance, time, the difficulties of travel were all shortened by the desire to be with family, clanswoman, tribal member in any kind of need.
Mother Mary Martin found in the Gospel account of the Visitation the motif for the Medical Missionaries of Mary. Despite her own ill health, and other obstacles, the Congregation took root. In Africa particularly she saw the urgent need to be with other women making modern medical care available, realising that for families, illness and need arrive at unexpected times. Medical Missionaries of Mary would be God-sent and they would be attuned to the needs around them, ready to journey to the hill country and stay while needed with a woman’s touch.
Nowadays, visitations take Sisters into the slums of the ever-expanding cities of the third world where people have gathered hoping for a better quality of life. But instead, are often in dire need. Further visitations take Sisters into remote areas with healing hands alongside women awaiting the birth of a baby or perhaps gently soothing an extremely ill patient. Often visitations under difficult circumstances can mean long hours of waiting through the night hours. Visitations call for sisters to rise before dawn, load their land rover and stretch out in all directions to local villages offering basic and fundamental health care to local communities. For the Sisters, as for Mother Mary Martin, these visitations are God-bearing visits. They have saved many lives, transformed care, and offered hope. No wonder people say ‘God has sent you’, ‘you will be forever in my mind.’
Mary’s journey through the hill country was a concerned visit to her cousin Elizabeth. Pondering the words and happenings, searching the crevices of memory gave urgency to Mary’s journey. If the news should be true, a friendly hand and her presence would be welcome.
St. Luke tells us that Mary was a young woman recently engaged. Elizabeth was an old woman, wife of a religious official. ‘God has sent you’ the greeting and the embrace expressed the concern each holds for the other. Both experienced God’s creative power; both were experiencing a totally unexpected pregnancy. Both acutely bewildered yet trustful. Family support is an important part of life and in Africa it is especially evident; distance, time the trials of travel are shortened by wanting to be with family, clanswoman, tribal member in any time of need, ‘God has sent you.’ The problem or predicament is shared. Shared first in word, when hidden anxieties and cloudy hopes become known through patient listening. Shared then in time, being with the other, watching and waiting for time to reveal its meaning. Mary stayed with her cousin. For Mary and Elizabeth, it was in their sharing and patient waiting that new understanding and deeper friendship grew.
From Mary’s first hurried steps over the hills to the last slow step up the hill of Calvary, God sent her. ‘God sends you’ to your family or friends who may know unexpected reversals such as insecurity through redundancy, violence, or loss of faith. ‘God sends you’ to a person with re-assuring hand, the tight hold saying I understand the already gripping cancer; the fever or anxiety of a diagnosis, the anticipation of new life in birth pain, feeling the pulse of thought, and yet understanding that God is in all.
God intervened in Mary’s life and so she journeyed to Elizabeth. Mary walked into the greeting ‘God sent you’. From the greeting Mary knew that she was welcome.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 10.11.2022
For some time now I have had a phrase running through my head: “I am already there”. What do I mean by that? Where did it come from? I think it all started earlier this year with the news and excitement around the new Webb space telescope, able to penetrate far back into space and time. They think that they can go back, close to the “Big Bang” which started this all off.
Well, it didn’t all start with the Big Bang if we believe in a Creator God. Then I had this wonderful thought, before the physical universe started, we were all in God’s plan. I am held in being because God wants it to be. That means before all recorded history, before all the kings and queens and even the Pharaohs of Egypt, I am already in the heart and mind of God. I am already there, before dinosaurs, ice ages and the formation of stars. Isn’t it the most comforting of experiences to know that we are held by God, brought into a physical being at this moment in time but already enfolded in God’s love and care. What will death be but a return to that immense love? I am already there.
Sometimes I have to hold myself in check. While all the above is true, I am also called to live in the ordinary, mundane world of today. I am called to be a good Sister, a good neighbour, a kind, warm and patient person. Most times patience is an ideal rather than a reality! So being a human person is like living in “both/and” situation, rather than “either/or.”
One of the reasons I like “I am already there” running through my head is that it reminds me of a bigger world and the ocean of love in which I am, in fact, swimming. Now, isn’t that a comforting thought on a winter’s morning!
It may seem to some people that finding God in nature is a trendy idea and is even referred to as “eco-spirituality” which does have a ring of modern lingo about it. But, the truth is that the idea that we feel God’s presence more profoundly is not in any way a new concept but it one worth examining. For anyone alive today we are faced with a monumental question, can we live more simply and require less resources so future generations can enjoy our world. It appears that if we don’t take this question seriously, then we will be leaving a mess for future generations. This does not seem like a spiritual choice to make.- I will be more cautious about using electricity
- I will walk more or use my bike more
- I won’t travel in my car unless needed
- I will pick up litter when I can
- I won’t buy single use bottles
- I will honour nature daily by taking a walk in it
- I will seek God in all the people I meet
- I will appreciate nature more and practice gratitude
