Yeasting the world with our presence

Yeast
     Small
          Yet Vital

May/June 2014

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A midst the gazillions and gazillions of God’s creations—galaxies, planets, forests, flowers, birds, butterflies, air, water, rocks, humans—one human being, one dandelion, even one star might seem to count as almost nothing. And yet, the presence of each one is vital. In the grand scheme of things, you are miniscule, and you are essential. Over the years and around the world, Our Lady’s Missionaries have experienced this truth. In our conversations with you, our families and friends, we know that you have experienced it too. In the following pages we share with you some of the ways that the significance of presence has been felt in our lives and in yours.

Before the advent of cell phones, communications in Nigeria were very limited. News of my father’s death was delivered by hand-carried messages from one mission to another. Unaware that he had suffered a stroke and had been hospitalized, the news came as quite a shock. As I made my way around the village of Koti, where Sister Rosemarie Donovan and I lived, to bring the news to our friends, I experienced a variety of responses.

Simon, the principal of the elementary school, true to Tiv custom offered me some money to buy tobacco to ease my sorrow and to have on hand for those who would come to give me their condolences. Others, also in respect of their culture, asked if I was going home to be present at my father’s burial. Mary James, whom we had known since our first days in Koti, simply opened her arms and embraced me silently for some moments. Nothing was said. The warmth and sincerity of this gesture was deeply comforting; a powerful presence expressing a willingness to simply be with me in my pain and sorrow.
Rosemary Williamson, O.L.M.

Sister Rosemary Williamson. Nigeria.

It has been five long years since I returned from Nigeria to begin life again in Canada. After spending 30 years in Nigeria it was not easy to let go. Part of me is still there and, I think, always will be.

A year after my return I was fortunate to become involved with the Toronto Sisters of St. Joseph’s ministry “In Good Hands.” I visit older people living alone in apartments, often separated from their families and friends. Nothing is expected of me except to sit, to be with them, and to listen. As I have become more present to them I am aware of their loneliness, poor health, pain, and suffering. They often share their life stories—the good times and not so good times—their children’s lives, where they lived, and where they traveled. And always, they share about God’s goodness and how they had so much for which to be thankful. I am grateful to the St. Joseph Sisters and their volunteers for the support I receive at our monthly get-togethers.

Now I also have the opportunity to be with some of my OLM Sisters who have recently returned from their missions. They have spent many years in various countries with the poor, the sick, the lonely, and the abandoned, especially women. Now these Sisters too are facing transition, health issues, and the loss of friends they left behind in mission.

I am fortunate to share community life with these Sisters. We share our mission stories, we laugh and cry together, and then we tell the stories again. I am now able to let go a little more of my beloved Nigeria and I am thankful for this mission God has given me here in Canada.
Mary Deighan, O.L.M.

Lynn Taylor (left) and Sister Mary Deighan at a Partners with OLM gathering. Toronto.

I believe that the natural world is one of the ways that God is present to us and, if we are paying attention, one of the ways that God is telling us something about how to live.
Frances Brady, O.L.M.

It was a Sunday morning and I was riding a jeepney (a form of public transportation in the Philippines). I was in a hurry because I didn’t want to be late meeting Joy Tumamac, another OLM associate, at Gaisano shopping mall. Suddenly a passenger in the front seat called, “Para!” (Stop!)

It took almost three minutes for her to get off the jeepney, and I complained to myself, “How long is she going to take? What is going on?” It was then that I saw that the passenger was an elderly woman carrying about five kilograms of rice, and I felt ashamed of myself.

When she stepped out from the jeepney there was a driver on a trisikad (a bicycle taxi with a sidecar attached for passengers) waiting for a fare. He asked the woman, “Sakay ka Nay?” (Will you ride, Ma’am?) The old woman shook her head. The trisikad driver then said, “Sakay lang Nay kay dili man tika pa plitihon.” (Ma’am, ride with me; there won’t be any charge.) The old woman smiled and said, “Salamat dong ha.” (Thank you, son.)

For me this was a grace-filled moment because I was able to witness and experience God’s presence in that simple gesture of love. Amidst the worries and pressures of life I almost missed this caring act between two people—the kind that makes life worth living.
Nimfa Codilan Tinoy

Nimfa joined the associate program of Our Lady’s Missionaries in the Philippines in 2003.

Joy Tumamac and Nmfa Codilan-Tinoy.

Sisters Cecile Turner (left) and Norma Samar

I have experienced presence in various ways over the years. These are a few that have stayed with me…

In the Philippines, when the OLMs announced to the people of Hinunangan on the island of Leyte that we were leaving our mission there, some of our health workers visited us to ask that we remain with them, not to do anything but to just be there—to be a presence. I felt honored by their request.

Once when I returned from mission for a home visit in Canada, my brother was dying of cancer. Each time that I would enter his bedroom, I had a tangible feeling of a Presence and almost wanted to genuflect or at least bow. It was a gift to me, reminding me of how close God is to one who is suffering. Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh said that once we have experienced something deeply, it is always there for us to touch again.

Today, visiting the lonely, I recognize their expressions of appreciation for my presence: “I have not seen you recently.”The silent smile of recognition.“Will you stay with me a while?”“Will you come back soon again?”

I always feel blessed that my visit means something and has a positive effect on others. They in turn do not realize that they are a precious gift wrapped in their cloak of suffering. Whether we are infirm or in health there is within each of us a holy spark of Divine Presence that transcends and unites us all into one family of God.
Myra Trainor, O.L.M.

Sisters Marie Clarkson (left) and Myra Trainor.

The English word ”presence” without a capital “P” has quite a variety of meanings. As children we were taught in catechism class that God is everywhere, which seemed to me that God must somehow be present any place you could imagine. Only as I grew older did I begin to realize that God was even closer than that. And as young novices in the community we frequently paused in what we were doing to pray together, “Let us remember the holy Presence of God.”

Now we live in awe of the loving embrace of that Field of Presence. Nan Merrill in her wonderful little book Psalms for Praying has many names for God. My favourite, which she often uses, is “Love’s ever-patient Presence abiding within.” And remember that even St. Augustine is quoted as saying that God is closer to us than we are to ourselves. Now that must be what Presence means.
Patricia Kay, O.L.M.

It took just a second or two when my day-to-day life took a turn for the worse. I had been stalling on doing my work for a newsletter that I was co-editing. It was early morning on the day of the deadline for the layout work to be submitted. Even so, I had lined up quite a few things I was going to do for the day, things like laundry, catching up on correspondence, and doing some errands. It was all there on this ever-growing to-do list. The layout work was one of those things on my list, and yet I procrastinated until the last day.

Sisters Patricia Kay (left) and Rosemary Hughes.

On my way to the computer in my room, having resolved to finish the work once and for all, my right foot got caught between my bed and my weighing scale. Without much ado I found myself gliding, swishing, seeking to grasp something solid. The last thing I felt was my right-hand wrist bone feeling as though it disconnected from the rest of my arm.

“Uh-oh,” I thought, “that was not a very pleasant feeling.” To make a long story short, I ended up in a cast, looking at four to six weeks of relative immobility.

It was only while talking with my sister Patricia that my mood of gloom abated. She pointed out that sometimes things happen for a reason. “Have you ever thought that God wanted you to slow down a bit?” she said. That caught my attention.

Sometimes we are oblivious to the Divine Presence in our lives, in our world, caught up as we are in the frantic, chaotic day-to-day.

In the news the other day was a report about how damaging modern technology has become to family relationships—mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters so rapt and engaged in their gadgets that they forget to relate to each other, to communicate in the old-fashioned way. The news reporter said there was a term for this phenomenon: an “absent presence.” Being there but not being there.

It would be nice to shower our presence on the presents we are given in this life.
Maria Teresa Velasco

Partners with OLM, Gemma Labitan and Maria Teresa Velasco

Life is a never ending mystery. A little over a year ago I was living in Brazil with two other OLM Sisters, Clarice Garvey and Lorie Nuñez, as we did the difficult yet gratifying work of closing our Brazil mission after 49 years.

Upon returning to Canada, everything was so different—the weather, the food, the people, and on and on. Now I live with nine other Sisters in our central house, which bustles with comings and goings as I recover from my second knee replacement surgery in three months.

At times I feel such a deep sense of loss. Rather than being able to jump in and help others as I have always tried to do in my missionary life, I must rely on the kindness of others. I know I am being called to a new mission. It seems that God is saying to me, “Be still and be present for I am with you.”
Lucy Lee, O.L.M.

Sister Lucy Lee at the Centro Convivencia, a meeting place for people with AIDS to pray, do creative arts, and also where they can come for food, and to earn money through their craftmaking. Fortaleza, Brazil.

It is easy to see God in children because they have no pretense. No matter where I go, whether it be Nigeria, Mozambique, Brazil, or Canada, my heart melts at the sight of the kids. Their welcoming joy is infectious.
Mona Kelly, O.L.M.

(CREDIT: Lorie Nuñez, OLM)
Sisters Mona Kelly (above right) and Gwen Legault.
Credit: Lorie Nuñez, OLM.

While working as a chaplain in a large state hospital in Fortaleza, Brazil, I would often visit patients who had to come from far away. Their family and friends would not be able to afford the trip to Fortaleza to visit them. Some of the patients came from Mulungu, a town where I had lived for a number of years.

One such patient was a young man who was suffering from cancer of the leg and unable to walk. He was very angry. The first time I approached him, he yelled at me, “Don’t talk religion to me!”

“I won’t talk religion to you,” I said, “but I would like to visit you.” I let him know that one thing we held in common was that I used to live and work in his town. Then I began to chat about soccer. I told him that I did not know much about the sport and asked if he could help me to better understand.

“Wasn’t that a good game the other night on TV when Pele danced down the field to a goal?” I said.

From then on I would visit him often over the span of three months and I could see that he was failing. One day as I entered his room he asked me to call the priest. I was happy to do so and the priest agreed to bring Communion to him. Shortly after, my friend slipped into a coma and I stayed by his side, praying, until he died. I was grateful that he had made his peace with God.

Now I live in our central house in Toronto where there are two women, Maria and Natalia, who come to help us with our cooking and cleaning. It’s not only what they do for us that is a gift, it is who they are as they invite us to share their pride in their children and grandchildren as well as their worries over sicknesses and deaths in their families. Once again, I feel honoured to be part of another’s journey.
Mary Hughes, O.L.M.

Chris Sabas (left) from the Christian Peacemaker Teams and Sister Mary Hughes.

Sister Rosemarie Donovan (left) and Natalia Tavares, staff person and friend, at the OLM house in Toronto.

Sisters Elaine MacInnes (left) and Mary Hughes with Maria (centre), staff person and friend, at the OLM central house in Toronto.

What is this sound I hear? It stirs in me the desire to be a person of Presence. I hear the heart cry of the poor; the cry of the whole Earth. This sound echoes in my mind as I go from door to door on the streets of East End Toronto handing out information about Line 9. The authorities are being asked to conduct an honest evaluation of this aging pipeline to assess whether it is capable of safely carrying toxic diluted bitumen as it passes near to our waterways and cities. If there is a spill, what happens to our Earth or the people that could be impacted? At each household, in order to receive the different responses and reactions I need to be truly present—to be open, to be aware, to hear without judgement.

Sister Mary Gauthier (left) and Kathi Tanel at a Good Friday Walk for Justice. Toronto.

The following prayer from the book, Compassion: Living in the Spirit of St. Francis, by Ilia Delio, OSF, has helped me realize God’s gift to us in all of creation, calling us to be responsible for all and in solidarity with all:

“God of overflowing goodness, since time began you have been revealing yourself in all creation. From the Big Bang to the convergence of galaxies, from the distant stars of this Earth, which is our home, you have never ceased shaping and fashioning us, urging us toward life. We are truly amazed at the work of your hands and for the life of Jesus, who reflects your radiance. We are blessed by the gift of self-awareness that you have given to us. Help us to be mindful that we are the universe conscious of itself and that we are sister and brother to all creation. Open our hearts to receive the gift of life that comes to us each day from the sun, the stars, plant life, animal life, and the unique giftedness of each human person. Lead us kindly on this cosmic journey that we may become the fullness of Christ who is our peace. Amen.” Mary Gauthier, O.L.M.

I have been a registered nurse for 43 years and have spent more than half of that time in long-term care and geriatrics. Over the years I have grown to love working with the senior population. Their sense of humor, unexpected sarcastic remarks, and wonderful tales of their lives as they reminisce have all been reasons why I have enjoyed my nursing career so much.

After working in the same facility for many years, I have gotten to know the residents and their families so well, and have developed a sense of pride in myself, knowing that the families feel they can depend on me when it comes to the care of their loved ones. Many residents in their 90s and some past 100 years of age often say they don’t know why they have lived so long. They remember the old adage that “old age is not for sissies.” It is my hope that I have been able to make this stretch of their long journey a little easier.

The field of nursing has become almost second nature to me, an integral part of my life. From my first day working in a hospital setting I knew that I had made the right decision.
Lynne Johnston

Lynne Johnston (left) and Sister Noreen Kearns.

Every Tuesday I enjoy volunteering at the Cardinal Ambrozic Houses of Providence long-term care home here in Toronto. Being with the residents enriches me. Upholding and following the mission and values of Providence, I assist, escort, and support the residents throughout the day. For me, support mainly requires being there and believing in the dignity of each person as she or he seeks to find transition peacefully.

Sitting beside someone who needs help with turning pages in our songbook, and blending voices with that of our leader, Saint Michael’s Choir School graduate John Koops, stirs fond memories of years gone by. “One Day At A Time” is our theme song and don’t we all need this hope-filled reminder?

Playing Euchre with the keen card aficionados sometimes brings out our best and our worst but above all our sense of humour, which triumphs in the end.

Our worship celebrations remind us of our connectedness as sisters and brothers sharing life on the Earth with all of creation. This is a graced time in a beautiful chapel recently renovated and always open.

In return I receive gracious smiles and thank yous for escorting those in wheelchairs to the dining room for supper and to other places they want to go. But most of all, I receive courage from those who are unable to leave their room or even their bed, spurring me to grow even more aware of the gifts each of us has for others, shared generously out of love.

Love does change everything. It is our very purpose in life and in death.
Gwen Legault, O.L.M

(Credit: Patti Enright)
A game of Euchre at Cardinal Ambrozic Houses of Providence.
L-R: Frances Hodgson, Mary McConville, Sister Gwen Legault, Noella Cadeau. Toronto.

Sister Margaret Walsh (left) and her sister, Denise Fox.

Presence is an ephemeral word. It’s opaque enough to be a bit confusing but common enough for people to think they have a firm sense of what it means. I think the term “presence” probably means many things to many people. For me it means mindfulness in any given moment. My experience of presence or mindfulness is traditionally a meeting place. That is, a place where my conscious mind intersects with an awareness of myself as a living, breathing person within creation. Awareness of our connectedness with creation has a way of inspiring gratitude. My sense of gratitude is the same as my sense of prayer. Presence, mindfulness, and prayer— whatever we call them, they are doors within ourselves, waiting to be opened… now.

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