Every Day Is Labor Day

"Work without love is slavery."

- Mother Teresa

     Did you know that the original date for the Labor Day holiday was February 21? Thank God, it's still not, because how else would we know when Summer was over? Did you know that only one state originally observed it? Way to go, Oregon! Did you know that the mandatory country wide observation of Labor day came as a result of multiple worker deaths during the Pullman Strike? In all honesty, how many Americans know what the real meaning is behind this day is. Typically we celebrate this day of labor with picnics, barbeques, swimming parties, and sales off every piece of white clothing in every store. And how funny it is that we celebrate Labor Day with a day free of labor...well, some of us. 

    My Labor day began just as any other day: with Mass. What was different, however, was the fact that I got to sleep in an extra hour and my sister, Mary, was with me. Of course, after Mass was a day out with my Sister shopping and then a picnic at Mommom and Poppop's house. However, the day wasn't a day free of labor for me. We baked over six dozen cookies AND I had Fortress Portress duty at the Motherhouse. But honestly, how could I complain? The first day back at Fortress Portress was a day I had been looking forward to since I arrived back in the States after Peru. 

     The first night back on Portress was anything but uneventful. Of course, we have three new lovebugs on deck for the year and training was night. Tonight was the perfect night for it, too. The Sisters were having a picnic dinner and everyone's spirits were high. Sisters were in and out of the Portress office and our laughter could be heard down the hallway and well into the kitchen. Our new Portress Girlies were already loving life. By six o'clock, training was over and the eery silence began to take over the Motherhouse. I settled well into my English readings. 

     Suddenly I was knocked out of literary imagination by the obnoxious fire alarm. Instantly panic overcame me and right away, I was on the phone calling my saving grace for the night, Sister Maureen. Within minutes, it was fine. I gave up trying to concentrate for the last half hour and began to laugh at the irony of the situation: here I was, sitting at the desk, working, on Labor Day, on my first day back and of course, it wasn't an easy night. The phone may have only rang once, but of course, the fire alarm had to just go off randomly. Yet, I was so happy. I was so happy to be back at the Motherhouse.

      This morning, Father's homily was so spot on. His message came back to my heart as I reflected on my joy. He spoke about how for the Sisters, every day is a Labor Day for them as they live and work in the same place. As I listened this morning, I was instantly stuck on the fact that "Labor Day is every day." I vaguely recalled from when I was younger how my dad used to say that every day was a Labor Day for him, so why should we take a day off. It was pretty legitimate, I thought. But it never really gave me anything to think about until today. Everyday is a Labor day for those who work, that's true and I guess we all deserve a day off. But in all honesty, my Sisters never take a day off, my parents never take a day off, and in hindsight, I can honestly say, I never take a day off.

      But it's not a day off from actual work, because those they take, we all take them. We all have a day off of work from the work force. But what is our real work? For my parents, a day off from parenting is non-existent and any parent can vouch for that. Even when the children are all grown up, parents will always worry about them. I know, even when I am at school, my mom and dad always want to know when I am safely home in my dorm room. For my Sisters, they are constantly loving (and dealing with me...). Every day, regardless of whether or not they are teaching, nursing, working, they are loving and being a Sister. Every day, they find themselves praying, going to Mass, being a Sister. Never take a day off. Of course, many can testify to the idea that I never take a day off. Some have told me, it's not good to never take a break, to never take a day for just relaxation. But in all truth, there is a force that drives my labor. It is love. 

     I heard once that labor, when done with love, is no longer labor. I don't see my days as laborious (although often I may use that word after sitting in class for an entire day) but rather fruitful. I may be exhausted at the end of every day, but when I am, I know my day was well spent doing the Will of God. My labor is not work, but love. If I think about what my mission is, I know that God has asked me to bring happiness and love to every life I come in contact with. So whether I am building houses in NOLA, feeding the homeless in Camden, teaching my students in Peru, answering the phone at the Motherhouse, or simply being a student, sister, friend, I am "laboring"; I am loving. 

     And so, in essence, I worked today. I spent my Labor Day, a day designated for a day off, picnicking, and ending Summer, working at the Motherhouse. But there, work does not exist. Yes, I might be doing a job, but really I am smiling, loving and learning from my Sisters about how to "labor with love" every day. I am a laborer in the vineyard for Jesus and God, and being a laborer means never taking a day off from loving and smiling and being the hands and feet of God. And honestly, I can't complain; working happily every day for God is actually a pretty big deal. 

The Remnant of a Sniff: Remembering Sister Marie Albert

"I woke up this morning and heard the news, 

I know the pain of a heartbreak.

I don't have answers and neither do you, 

I know the pain of a heartbreak."

- "When a Heart Breaks," Ben Rector

    I have been silent this week, friends, but that doesn't mean I haven't been writing. I have been using my other (secret) outlet as a coping mechanism. Yes, I have been writing poetry. Today was the funeral of our dear Sister Marie Albert, and so, I feel  it is the time to share one of my poems with you, that I wrote in her honor.

The Remnant of a Sniff

it's what lingers after

a sledding adventure in

the brisk, snow-filled air.

it lingers over hot cocoa

even as we try to warm ourselves.

it's what lingers after

the common cold or flu

has paid a visit to the body's

immune system.

it lingers over the tea 

we drink to regain our sense of smell.

it's what lingers after 

an allergy attack in the

awakening of Spring.

it lingers over afternoon coffee.

it's what lingers after

hearing the joyous news of a birth

or

the heartbreaking news of a sudden passing.

  

it lingers as hugs and tears are shared.

it lingers after my weeping

and 

my mourning.

it lingers now.

but what lingers also, 

is the remnant of a smile 

as memories of you

flood my heart.

- 1/21/13

     It's snowing right now, and if I have never said it, snow is a sign from Heaven for me. I take snow as a sign that all is right in my world. It snowed the first day I ever mentioned my discernment to Sister David and I knew it was my path of life. It snowed on a day I was walking to the Motherhouse for Mass on a Chapter weekend and I knew I was meant to be there. It snows today, and I know Sister Marie Albert is at peace. This is her sign for me.

      Yesterday may have been one of the longest days in my life. Sixteen straight hours of being awake and not a signal break in the day. I went from 5-11 full force. In the middle of my day, around 3:30, my best friend, Cameron, and I walked down the street to Camilla where we were finally going to get our closure. But before we even walked down the street, I said, "Just a fair-warning: this is not okay in my heart yet; I am going to cry. I'm sorry." And just as he does for me, he nodded in silent agreement that he not only understood, but may have to do the same. That's the one thing about him that I love, we can have conversations upon conversations of full understanding with each other without saying a word. God blessed me in that sense. 

     We walked into the front doors of Camilla and right away we saw some of our sisters from school. There were shared smiles and waves and that was it really, until Sister Denise came up to my side. It was as if she had known I walked through the door; like magnets connecting with great force. She linked my arm and said, "Be strong, baby girl, we're just going to talk to her." Before we even entered the parlor, however, Sister Carol opened her arms wide and greeted me with a, "My hall buddy. I am so glad you are here with us." Of course, already, tears were silently streaming down my face. Sister Denise once again linked my arm, but I honestly admitted that I would need to hold her hand and I asked her not to let go. Cameron followed behind me, close enough to be there if I needed him, but far away enough to give me space to cry. I closed my eyes and did just what Sister told me, I spoke to my sister. 

      I got through the rest of the night, my six hours of classes with an angel by my side. Truly, I knew she was with me. When I finally was able to collapse in my bed, I let the river pour. But even then, it was still just a river. This morning, I moved around so slowly, as if trying to avoid the inevitable. Finally, I pulled myself together and trekked down to Camilla once again, in my black and yellow, but this time alone. I prayed and talked with her during my ten minute walk and told her honestly how hard it really was for me. Thankfully, when I walked into Camilla, I saw "little poss," or as many know her, Christina, the Postulant. I sidled up next to her, and listened as the IHM community prayed the Rosary, with Sister Lorraine, the Mother General leading. To a few of the school sisters I saw during the final good-bye, I gave hugs, even to the cold-ridden ones, like Sister Marcille and then made my way to Chapel. 

     I don't think my cheeks were ever as wet, even in the rain, as they were today. When I saw each of the sisters from school, line up on either side of the main aisle, I couldn't hold back the tears. Honestly, the hardest thing for me, was not only carrying the heartbreak of my own heart, but the heartbreak of the sisters. They created a passage-way of sorts for their sister. It was so difficult to watch their faces and not feel their pain. Yeah, it was hard.

     It wasn't toward the end of the Mass that I realized which sisters were sitting behind me a few pews. Part of the council and a good deal of the motherhouse sisters. So, it was no surprise to me when I walked into the Portress office for work tonight, to have the sisters ask me about it. What I was surprised about was the amount of support they each gave me. Plenty of beautiful words were said, but what stuck with me was what Sister Rita (my home girl, I call her, since she's from Levittown) said. She said, "Becky, dear, she's going to be your special friend up there. I can promise that. Pray to her all the time, she's got you special under her wing." 

     The surprising thing about that saying, was that as I stood with Sister Marcille and a few of the students, I felt a peace come over me. Of course, tears were still streaming down my face, but I could feel her presence with me. I closed my eyes and just let that peace come over me with the gentle breeze that came with it. The sisters began to sing the Salve Regina, and you know that feeling in your heart, when even if you can't sing, you have to sing? That's what came over me. I joined in with the sisters who were literally surrounding me and sang as if that song has always been engraved deep in my heart. Afterwards, I heard Sister Marcille whisper to Dara, "That's a community tradition." Oops. Yet, I know Sister Marie Albert would have just laughed at me in her kind way.

     As I walked home tonight from work, after listening to so many of the sisters at the Motherhouse wrap me in words of support, I couldn't help but smile up at the sky. It's clear tonight, despite the snow. I couldn't really tell if it was snowing or not, but when I looked into the lights that lit my journey home, I could see the fine pieces of icey snow falling so gracefully. I felt as if someone was literally dumping a bottle of fine, silver glitter on my head as if to make me shine. Then I realized it. Sister Marie Albert always told me to shine. And wouldn't she be the one to dump a bottle of glittery snow on my head from Heaven tonight. 

     Hey girl, I know you're listening, so let me tell you, how much I really appreciate your loving support during these beautiful times I knew you. And honestly, I know you're with me more now than you ever could have been here. Help me keep shining with a smile in remembrance of you!