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.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 28.08.2024
Sometimes a problem seems so massive, that apathy become our only avenue of response. Recently, it was revealed that there is finally a vaccine that will be administered in Sub-Saharan Africa to protect small children from dying of malaria. Such news is major because the number of small children dying this way is horrific.
According to UNICEF, nearly every minute, a child under five dies of malaria. Many of these deaths are preventable and treatable. In 2022, there were 249 million malaria cases globally that led to 608,000 deaths in total. Of these deaths, 76 per cent were children under 5 years of age.
I cannot help but feel a little outraged when I read this as I know that there is no way that many children in the western world would die every minute before enormous efforts were made to stop it. I say it over and over that injustice looks like our geography being our destiny. If you are four in New York or in London, your future looks very different that Sub-Saharan Africa.
There is of course, dispute amongst the NGOs and the governments about the new vaccines and if the current plan is the best one. Some don’t think this is the way to go and investments should be made in other ways like sleeping nets or other solutions. It is amazing to watch the banter while another minute passes, and there goes another child and then another and then another.
And then another…
How do we hold the real injustice of global health and not let it make us bitter or angry? How do we keep going when it seems as if the issues are just too big to do anything about? Evil lives in compromise. When we turn our backs and say, ‘oh, it’s too hard. We don’t have the resources. We don’t have the time. ‘
But every time we do that, more minutes pass and more children fall helpless while the adults supposed to protect and nurture them are rendered motionless.
In our work, the MMMs are constantly facing challenging experiences but we have to do what we can. As a team of us work on eradicating and preventing complex medical and social issues like Obstetric fistula we are faced with many questions and few answers. Yet, we know the world can be better for the girls and women impacted by this horrendous injury caused by obstructed births and lack of antenatal care.
So, instead of turning away, we have to turn into the challenge. The Buffalo are an incredible animal because unlike most animals, when there is a storm, they turn towards it so the storm is over sooner.
Perhaps we humans need to learn a thing or two from these brave creatures.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM U.S.A. 25.08.2024
I would like to tell you a story of what took place the first time I assisted Dr. O Brien with an operation, a Caesarian Section. I was extremely nervous, and he yelled at me that I was like Charlie Chaplain assisting him. I started to laugh and then somehow, I improved and then functioned as I was supposed to. Later on, the scrub nurse remarked to me how I could laugh when I was corrected. nI told her “Did you ever see Charlie Chaplin move a piano up a hill.”? He was very jerky with it. That was how I was assisting Dr O’Brien with jerky movements and then after laughing I regained my composure and did it the right way. Thank God this never happened again, and I enjoyed all the Gynecological work, twice a week. I especially loved being taught how to investigate women for infertility. It was such a joy for all of us when they became pregnant.
Our work was very demanding of our time. I liked it because one could see a woman who had need for a Caesarean Section. One heard all the factors considered to make the best decision. See the preparation necessary including preparing for a blood transfusion if necessary, assisting at the operation and seeing what was written for aftercare. This meant that we had a half day off every week and one day off a month. We were young and did not consider this to be abnormal until a new Medical Superintendent arrived and reduced our hours of duty.
I was glad to spend some weekends at the seaside house in Bettytown and go for a swim in Termonfeckin on my half day. I never cycled to Bettystown, but Termonfeckin was not so far. In fact the distance was used in a parody play on “My Fair Lady” which we three interns and some of the MMM nurses acted in to give entertainment to the three Consultants who had been with us for over twenty years. My part in the play was to paraphrase a song “It only takes three minutes to get to Termonfeckin” for the flying squad to help a maternity patient in distress. Sr. Dr. Martha Collins sang a relaxed song imitating Dr. Connoly with his foot resting on a chair. I remember the rehearsals more than the actual play but all the consultants, Mr. Sheehan. Dr. Costello and Dr. Connolly were pleased with our efforts and enjoyed it thoroughly. As well as did the invited guests.
The months followed quickly and soon it would be July first and the time to change for another rotation and that is another story.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM U.S.A. 21.08.2024
Christmas was soon approaching, and the completion of my six months medical internship was in sight. This was to be my first celebration of Christmas in Drogheda at the Motherhouse and the surrounding joy was palpable. I never saw so many cribs placed in every available nook and cranny. They were delightful to behold. The hospital, as I now remember, seemed to be quiet without too many emergencies, all lending itself to the quiet entrance of our Infant Savior at Midnight Mass. I had never celebrated Christmas with so many MMMs before and it was a real treat for me.
A few days later, on Holy Innocents Day, a party was held in the library, now part of the Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital. What I remember to be the thrill of the party was to see one of the popular nursing students dressed in an MMM HABIT. There was great exclamation and then a few minutes later Mother Mary entered the room, and all eyes fell on her. She sang her favorite song for us “All on a Summer’s Day.” I have tried to look up the song on Google but I did not see it. I found it so entrancing that the memory, melody, and some words of the song have etched themselves on my heart. “I kissed her once. I kissed her twice and then I stole away. You may think this funny; but she had no money. All on a summer’s day.”
I had grown close to the medical patients with chronic diseases who were long term admissions to the hospital or came for follow up visits to the outpatient’s department. One man in particular was a tall, good looking, well-built farmer with lymphoma. At that time there was a limited source of chemotherapy, and I could see him gradually decline. Somehow, I kept track on him, and he died a few months later. May God rest his soul.
Yes, the first of January was the date of handing over and taking up a new field of medicine. I was assigned to work under Doctor Connolly and Doctor O’Brien as an intern. I found being with the miracle of new life exhilarating. The women delivered their babies with true valor, and I loved witnessing their happiness when it was over, and they were holding their cherished babies in their arms. Sometimes the outcome was not as joyful and then we would join their pain. The midwives did an excellent job with helping the women deliver their babies and alerting the Doctors if an abnormality arose.
Overall, I loved the experience of watching the women attend their antenatal care and watch them carefully for any abnormality in their pregnancy. Dr. Connolly taught us well that pregnancy should be a joyful time of expectation in a mother’s life, and we should do all we could to ensure her baby and herself were healthy. At that particular time some women had anemia, and the flying squad would be called to bring them to the Maternity if they showed any sign of bleeding or other disorders. Sr Briege Breslin and I were called many a night to help a woman who had a miscarriage.
I loved to examine the newborns to look for a heart murmur or congenital hip dislocation. Thank God these were quite rare. One of the biggest problems at that time was delivering a baby whose mother was Rhesus Negative. The serum to correct this had not been invented yet and the babies needed exchange transfusions. Thank God we had a very well-run neonatal unit on the ground floor of the Maternity hospital which was located where Aras Mhuire Nursing Home is now. It was the original hospital before the IMTH was built and opened in 1956. Each ward had a special MMM Sister, or lay nurse/midwife assigned. I loved working with these dedicated women who had so many years of experience and taught me very much in their quiet and efficient way of handling difficult situations.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 18.08.2024
I come from Belfast in Northern Ireland. But like so many of the people of my age, seventy-plus, the original family home is long gone. What makes home for us initially is where we were brought up, where we lived with our parents.
Now that my parents are dead and my brothers and sisters scattered around the globe, the question has often surfaced for me “where is home?” MMM life is not conducive to “nest-building”. We have a saying that Mary went in haste to visit her cousin, Elizabeth, in the Gospel, and when Mother Mary took the Visitation as an inspiration, we have been “going in haste” ever since! Certainly, when we go to a new mission, we know that we will be there for a certain period of time but must always be ready to move on when the need is greater elsewhere.
And yet the question continues. We all need a “home”. Home is the place of security, the place where we can be ourselves without pretence or fear. We are known and are accepted as “belonging”. All this is important for our development and our functioning as adults in the wider society. So, what happens when the old “physical” home disappears. Either we resolve the issue by establishing a new home, as many young couples do when they marry, or as in my case, as a religious sister, we establish “home places”.
For me these are places/situations where I have felt free, able to be myself and feel that warm acceptance. As I am writing, three places stand out for me. The first is County Donegal where I had many early holidays and Irish language learning experiences. I feel a freedom in the wildness of the landscape and yet the home feeling in chatting to the local people who are “The salt of the earth”. The second “home place” was a convent in upstate New York where I spent a year in a rest and renewal experience in my early 40s. I was totally “burnt out”, and the love and care I received from the Sparkhill Dominican Sisters there put me back on my feet, and that love has stretched out to me over the years. The third “home place” is Brazil. I began my Brazilian life when I was 27 years old and left it when I was 68. I began in the southeast and ended in the northeast. But just each time I landed back in the airport I knew I was coming home.
Isn’t it great to have “home places” that we can treasure in our hearts, no matter where we are in the world! I encourage you to think about your own!
By Rev. Canon Susanna Gunner England 15.08.2024
Image by Claudia Williams
One afternoon last summer, on retreat at St Beuno’s in Wales, I took myself to a little sitting room to do some reading. But my eye was immediately drawn from the page on my lap to a painting hanging above the fireplace. I was alone in the room so I wriggled a chair right in front of it and looked and looked…
I realised that whoever the painter was had whisked me into a moment between two first century women, a moment of monumental import (Luke 1.39-56). Mary, wearing a maternity dress in the blue of heaven, has just opened the door into Elizabeth’s homely kitchen. She is the bearer not only of divine news but also of a divine child and, desperate to share all this with her cousin, has not waited for her knock to be answered. A scarf in exactly the same blue is draped on the kitchen table. What does this signify? That Elizabeth is ready and waiting to respond to the heavenly child Mary carries? That they will soon be talking about the powerful connection they feel between the child in Mary’s womb and the one in Elizabeth’s?
Mary stands in the doorway of Elizabeth’s home with a few gleaming-white lilies in her bag and a loving smile on her face. It feels as if the painter (who I now know to be Claudia Williams b.1933) is taking us with those lilies on a journey. So often they feature when, by artists down the ages, Gabriel is depicted giving his message to Mary about her extraordinary pregnancy, classic symbols of her purity and innocent vulnerability. Williams has imagined Mary packing up the flowers and taking them with her to the hill country where Elizabeth lives, thereby reminding us of Mary’s recent encounter with the angel and creating a flowery link between Annunciation and Visitation.
But there are other links too… Just as many classic Annunciation scenes indicate the divide between earth and heaven but also that in this encounter that divide has somehow been transcended, so here in this Visitation scene, Elizabeth’s kitchen stands open to Mary who is literally on the threshold, in a liminal space pregnant with possibility, at one and the same time in and of the world and bearing its Creator.
And then there are all those geometric shapes and patterns – in the brickwork behind Mary, in the stripes on the door which she’s just opened, in the square block design of Elizabeth’s skirt and the cable patterns of her knitted jumper, in the grain of the wooden table top. Again, this geometric feature sometimes pops up in annunciation scenes. Look, for example, at Botticelli’s (1481), Eric Gill’s (c.1912) and Dinah Roe Kendall’s (2005). What might all those repeated shapes be saying? Perhaps that the Creator whose universe is suffused with the most beautiful pattern and proportion is also at the very heart of this encounter and everything to which it will lead, purposefully conceiving a new order, utterly in control. Claudia Williams brings those same ideas into Mary’s visit to Elizabeth, making the point that this moment too is an essential one in the revealing of God’s plan.
Elizabeth looks toward Mary in greeting, her age subtly indicated by her clothing and rounded shoulders. She turns from her work at the table, calmly open to the girl on her doorstep. Dare I let Mary and her child into my kitchen too? Is my blue scarf of response ready and waiting? What will leap inside me when they are near? And what is already lying within me waiting to be birthed by God?
The key lying on the table is there for a reason. It is, I think, a signal from the artist that this moment holds the secret to a very significant unlocking – not just of the meaning of those two babies in utero and to the relationship which will emerge between them, but also to an unlocking of us, when we like Elizabeth, are involuntarily stirred by the presence of Jesus.
We know it will not be easy for either of these women (both their little boys will be put to death as young men), and perhaps the small parts we ourselves might play in the unfolding of God’s beautiful pattern will be testing for us, yet the painting holds up a resilient, determined lens to expectancy, hope, newness. And those foregrounded, unmissable eggs speak not just of birth, of course, but of resurrection, of re-birth, of a divine transformative process which cannot be halted by rejection and death and loss.
