by Sr. Sheila Campbell, MMM Ireland 21.10.2021
This morning I went out walking at my usual early time. It was still dark, but that wasn’t the problem. What hit me like a wet blanket as I opened the door was a dense, misty fog. I immediately remembered the fogs of my childhood in Belfast.
Guest Blog by Paul Brian Campbell, S.J. U.S.A. 19/10/2021
I was 11 years-old when my sister Sheila entered the novitiate. We visited her in Clonmel, Co. Tipperary as a postulant and I remember my little brother and I causing something of a stir as we strolled into her dormitory to see her at bedtime!
by Sr. Joanne Kelly, MMM Ireland 15/10/2021
There are times when I seek a place of real solitude, a quiet place to reflect and pray. In fine weather this is easy to find in our lovely garden amidst the God-given beauty of nature. In the cold dark days I go to the Mother Mary room in our house. This is a beautiful room which portrays in script and pictures the story of Mother Mary Martin, the founding of the Medical Missionaries and the beginning of the hospital known as Our Lady of Lourdes.
by Sr. Noeleen Mooney, MMM Ireland 07/10/2021
To have a value on our lives, silence and solitude must at some time be experienced and found to be worthwhile, or even vital as a way of gathering our inner forces to respond to what life’s journey and our God asks of us.
Maasai warriors in Tanzania have a remarkable way of going apart, and I was once privileged to observe how they go about it.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer, MMM U.S.A. 05/10/2021
Children have always been very precious to me. When I returned from Africa where I had cared for sick children for over thirty years and saw how lovely they are, it surprised me that anyone could even think of molesting them? God seemed to be shining out of their enchanting eyes.
This love of children, perhaps came from the care I gave my younger brother, Albert. I was ten years old when Albert was born, and I cared for him as if he were my own child. We were inseparable and I took him everywhere with me and when I entered the convent at seventeen, he felt abandoned. I did not realize this until later. I loved the family visits and after Profession of First Vows, I went home for ten days before traveling by boat from New York to Ireland. This was in 1958, before jet engines were discovered and it was much cheaper to travel by ship than to fly.
I studied medicine in University College, Dublin and after 6 years I qualified in 1964. After an intern year and further training I went to Uganda in 1966. I loved the people and loved looking after the sick children. Many children were malnourished because of harmful customs. We learned how to enter into dialogue with the mothers about how they could feed their children in a healthier way. The mothers loved their children and wanted them to thrive.
I also served in hospitals in Tanzania and Nigeria before coming back to the United States in 2002 for family reasons. Unfortunately, my mother died suddenly six months after I had made the decision to come home. I felt incredibly sad; both in losing my mother and losing the opportunity to serve overseas.
My new assignment was to visit schools in many dioceses throughout the United States. I talked to school classes about the children in the African countries where I had served as a missionary doctor. At this time, in 2002, the child molestation scandal in the Roman Catholic Church was just being exposed in the newspapers. Soon it would become mandatory for anyone who was in contact with children to have your fingerprints taken for a criminal check and to undertake a course for training in Safe Child Protection.
I had heard my sister-in-law speak of predators in the neighborhood. On this course I was surprised to learn that the abusers are often trusted family members of friends who appear to be very friendly and safe with children. They groom the children to like and trust them. The parents think they are safe in their care. The abusers warn the children that no one will believe them, and it is better to keep what is going on a secret.
The first case study was a man who ran a roller-skating rink. The parents would drop a child off for the afternoon and the person got to know the parents who thought he would take care of their children. He would choose a few and molest them in a small dark room.
The second case was that of a woman who was secretary to a priest. She would entrust her 12-year-old daughter to him while she did her shopping.
The third was a man who encouraged his son to have his friends over for a sleep-over. He would tell them to all take a bath together and would take naked photographs of them. The store developer showed the prints to the police, and the police arrested the father for taking the photographs.
The fourth was an English teacher who kept a girl after school hours with the alleged purpose of helping her with her lessons and then molested her.
All these children were abused for several years before the truth came out.
I felt so sorry for them and wondered how the scars of this trauma wounded them for life.
Then a few months ago, the Mission Office told me that my Virtus Training certificate (Child Protection) which I received in 2004 was out of date. I would have to do the course again. This time it was online because of Covid 19.
It took me a little while to reconnect that the videos I was now viewing were the same four cases mentioned above and the victims, as well as the abusers, were now getting treatment and had grown through this tragedy. They were anxious to help others not fall into the same trap.
When I completed this course, I thought of drafting an article in our parish bulletin to encourage parents to take this Virtus Training for the Safeguarding of Children. All the parents would have an opportunity of learning how they could protect their children from sexual abuse and child pornography. Everyone thinks that this could never happen to my child, and it is such a tragedy when it does happen. What similar course in your country is available for you to take?
by Sr. Prisca Ovat Nigeria/Kenya 05/10/2021
Returning to my first mission, I found myself taking up the responsibility for the palliative clinic. This was a new adventure, and with so much energy, I plunged into work head-on. I never saw what awaited. At first, the activities went on smoothly. Then, the apostolate began to manifest itself through a series of deaths. I witnessed the departure of three patients within one week. As I struggled to come to terms with this painful reality, a young lady in her early forties, who dropped out of school due to her illness, was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer. At this point, I lost it. My first reaction was to quit the job.
A few moments later, I summoned the courage to speak with my spiritual director, who said: “the only thing I hear from you is that you can’t quit because when they see you, they see hope and become assured that life is not only always marked by the bad experience of life.” I took courage and journeyed down the road to visit the young lady. While in transit, I begged God for just one thing: “please tell me what to say to her, for I am on a hot seat. And if I have to say nothing, help me just to be.” My encounter with her was indeed shaped by divine presence. The Holy Spirit worked it through as I listened to her fears and disappointments. For her, she has become an added responsibility. For me, we have become friends. We shall together help to make life as comfortable as possible for her.
The exhaustion that I accumulate from everything happening around me and the reality of knowing that now and again that I will have to deal with the passing of souls fill me with questions of the deeper meaning of life and death. The fear and questions in the patients’ eyes, to which I often have no answers, leave me to seek understanding regarding the mystery of life. They often ask: “Sr., what can you do to help me get well again”? Yet, I know they may never really get well again in this life.
Mission always meant one thing for me: trying to make life meaningful and worthy. While it can be draining to achieve, even the difficult missions often receive the same response: “let me try.” I certainly was not prepared nor trained for the palliative clinic, yet I am learning on the job. Instead of getting lost in their pains, I choose to see my collaboration with them as a means of getting in touch and understanding true humanness.
by Sr. Cecily Bourdillon, MMM, Ireland 05/10/2021
When I hear Sister Justina Odunukwe’s name I think of an unforgettable journey in 1973. Sister Justina is now the Area Leader of West Africa.
At the time, I was stationed in Ikot Ene in southeastern Nigeria; the MMMs had established the rural hospital there in 1959. Though only 12 miles from Calabar, Ikot Ene was remote, for to reach it there was a river to cross in a canoe or a pontoon for vehicles. The alternative route to Ikot Ene was by road, detouring 40 miles through dense rain forest; a long and tortuous journey. Our nearest MMM neighbours were our community in Anua. To reach Anua we would cross the estuary formed by the Calabar and Cross rivers – an hour’s journey in a motor boat but a three-hour extended journey on the large ferry boat that had to navigate through deep waters.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM, Ireland 07/10/2021
One of the key lessons I have learnt from my ministry as a Sister is to be flexible. Life is constantly changing and I have learnt to weave my way through it, trying to respond as best I can, to the needs of the local people of God and to my community. At times I have struggled with some assignments I have been given. For example, I trained as a nurse, but I do not like hospital nursing! Yet I spent three years as one of only two trained nurses in a rural hospital in Brazil because I knew it was the need at that time. I knew I was in the right place.
by Sr. Jo Anne Kelly, MMM 07/10/2021
I like to take an early morning walk and in the bright mornings of spring and summer usually go to the nearby graveyard which is directly opposite Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital and where all MMM sisters who have died in Ireland are buried. The gravediggers had deposited the excess soil down along the side and made a bank of soil. Weeds grew quickly.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer, MMM U.S.A. 05/10/2021
Children have always been very precious to me. When I returned from Africa where I had cared for sick children for over thirty years and saw how lovely they are, it surprised me that anyone could even think of molesting them? God seemed to be shining out of their enchanting eyes.
This love of children, perhaps came from the care I gave my younger brother, Albert. I was ten years old when Albert was born, and I cared for him as if he were my own child. We were inseparable and I took him everywhere with me and when I entered the convent at seventeen, he felt abandoned. I did not realize this until later. I loved the family visits and after Profession of First Vows, I went home for ten days before traveling by boat from New York to Ireland. This was in 1958, before jet engines were discovered and it was much cheaper to travel by ship than to fly.
