Sunflowers and Sisters

"Never say goodbye because
saying goodbye means going away
and going away means forgetting."
- J.M. Barrie

One of my favorite pictures with this lovely lady.
Circa. Summer 2011

      I was mid-conversation with a friend when the phone started beeping telling me there was another call waiting for me to answer. When I saw the name, I immediately cut my friend off and said, "I'll call you back. This is important." I could barely contain my excitement when I heard her voice on the other end. "Hi Sister..." Before I knew it, I was jumping in the car and racing to see her at the Mount. 

     It had been months since I'd seen her last. In fact, as part of our hellos, we were trying to figure out how long. "Well, you were in Chicago for vows," she said. But then I responded, "But I saw you for a few minutes when I stopped over in Chicago before going to Minnesota." We laughed and agreed. Yes, the last time we had seen each other was in passing for only a few minutes. It was enough for a hug before I was off and running to the next state. Yes, it had been months, yet, it seemed as if it was only yesterday we had had our last conversation. It was so easy to pick right back up where we left off the months before. 

     Usually, I write an exact recent moment in my life but today, I'm going to write a piece of my past and a piece of my discernment story. After our brief hour together yesterday, I decided that I would (sleep in and) join Sister for Mass before she headed back "home." She mentioned that she would be leaving right after Mass and I told her that spending time with her in Mass was just as good if not better than talking for an hour. She agreed and so, this morning, I found myself in an all too familiar setting. Together we prayed and celebrated Mass; it was beautiful. As I was leaving, she mentioned that we've been close for a very long time. That's when I said, "This September, it will be eight years since we met." Both of us let that sink in for a few seconds and I hugged her again. Even though I know I'll see her again soon enough (perhaps in a few months), it's always hard to say goodbye to the woman that has been one of the most influential people in my life. 

     Sister David was the first Sister I ever had as a teacher. I grew up with the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, so I knew nuns, but I never had one as a teacher. We took semesterly Theology classes so I didn't have Sister David until January but I knew who she was and was secretly in awe of her. I couldn't wait to have her in class. When I finally did get to have her in class, I noticed her all around joy. She was always happy, go-lucky, it seemed and there was something about her that I just wanted to share. I remember studying Old Testament Theology with her, I remember her singing with us, I remember her bouncing around the classroom, super excited for the day. I had her 8th period and I remember trying to think of questions to ask her after class just so I could talk with her (I'm such a nerd, still...) One question I asked her in particular was about what I was doing for Lent. I asked her, "Sister, my boyfriend and I are going to be reading the Bible for Lent. Is there any place we should start?" I think part of her was a bit crushed that I had a boyfriend, but she was happy that we would be reading the Bible. To be honest, I don't remember what she answered. At the end of the year, I hung back after class and asked her to sign my yearbook. I hugged her good-bye for the Summer and left the classroom thinking, next year I must get to know her better. 

      Over the summer between Freshmen and Sophomore years, I broke up with my boyfriend and thought it was really time to focus on what God might be calling me to do with my life. (Long story short, I had been talking with my boyfriend about the possibility of being a sister....yeah....he didn't like that very much). Fast forward to maybe early October of my Sophomore year. I spent the night writing and re-writing a letter to Sister David before I finally conjured up the right words. I begged my best friend the next morning to go with me to her office (she was the disciplinarian, you see) so that I could drop the letter off. Lucky for me, she wasn't in her office. So, I dropped it on her desk and BOLTED out of there. I was praying and hoping that she would read it and NEVER SAY ANYTHING TO ME ABOUT IT EVER. But alas, as I was headed into my French class, there she was, waiting for me. "How about you stop by my office tomorrow after school?" Oh no. She read my letter. NOW she wanted to talk about it? I hesitated but something deep down inside forced me to say okay. Yes, little sophomoric me agreed to chat with Sister about my letter. 

       The next day, I found myself down in her office. It was a Wednesday (because that's the day she did detentions) and a dress-down day. We sat in her office for at least an hour and a half as she addressed every single thing I wrote in my letter. You see, my letter was all about how I felt that I was being called to religious life. I told her that I was scared and nervous about saying anything. I didn't know what it meant, I had not a clue what to do about it. She sat next to me and assured me that it was totally okay to be feeling called to religious life. She told me that Sisters are just as human as every other human being. But the most important thing that she told me was that she would be right next to me the entire journey. She would be praying for and with me. I didn't know how true her words were then. But almost eight years later, she's still journeying with me. 

     The rest of my high school career, Sister David became a mentor. She mentored me in everything from my discernment to making college decisions to even research topics for Senior Research Paper. So many of the Sisters at Nazareth influenced me greatly in my four years there but she was the one who listened to my every nun-related fear. I knew come graduation, it was going to be difficult to say good-bye to her. God, however, had different plans. Because today, years after my graduation, I got to laugh with her as if she was my long lost best friend. 

     Sister David never once ceased writing to me when I was at college. Every so often, I would get a letter in the mailbox from her. She loved to write little cards with little messages to people (I even got one this morning). And I, of course, always loved to receive them. When I was home for break, we somehow always managed to meet up. Often, we would go for a walk around school or even her humble abode, just to catch up with one another. She has a memory like an elephant, by the way; she remembered almost everything I ever wrote to her about when I was at college. Of course, last summer she got transferred...not just to a different convent, or to a different state BUT TO A WHOLE OTHER PART OF THE COUNTRY. Needless to say, I thought the world was ending. How was I going to live without my best friend? 

     But here we are a year later, and I've seen her quite a bit. Every so often, we call on the phone and it's like there hasn't been a month's lapse of time between the last time we spoke and that moment. She still writes to me often...in fact, more often than ever before. I'm always getting cards in the mail from her and I'm always sending something in response. She'll be getting one soon enough from me. Seeing her these past two days, even if it only was for a little bit, was a God moment for me. She has taught me so much in her witness of religious life. She has shown me gentleness and kindness. She has shown me tears and faith and love, incredible love for every person she has ever met. But probably the most important thing she ever taught me from day was is that if I wholly and totally depend on God, He will always take care of me.

      As we were saying good-bye today, I tried to hold back tears. Yeah, I know, I'm a big baby, but she's been journeying with me for the past eight years and it's been a very crazy journey. She's listened to my pains, my fears, my hesitations. She's wiped away countless tears (she always has a tissue in her pocket, just in case) and has been a caring shoulder to cry on. Of course, she's also shared many laughs, smiles and good times with me. I laugh so much with her; she is joy. We laughed as we hugged goodbye one more time. I didn't want her to go, but another thing she has taught me is that one must make their home wherever God sends her. Go with God and nothing will go wrong. She told me to listen to my heart. I called her Grandmother Willow. 

     Sister David, a constant companion, mentor and friend, has stood by me on my crazy journey. We shared so much in the little hour that we had together yesterday, just as if it hadn't been months since our last visit together. She's amazing. I secretly think she might be an angel. And she has been such a key player in my discernment story. One of the last things she said this morning was that no matter where I go, it's between me and God and I can't let anyone else influence that decision. No matter where I go, she will always continue journeying with me as my Sister in prayer. I smiled as I walked away and said, "Self. Do not cry. Your mascara will run and you'll look like a fool." So instead, I smiled and already started looking forward to the next time I'll see this beautiful woman of God. Maybe I'll take a road trip soon. As I thought of all my blessings in simply seeing her and praying with her, I couldn't help but remember that in the Chapel, there right in front of the altar, were sunflowers.