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The Sisters had staffed the Catholic schools in our area for many years and taught all three of our children.
I had too many memories of my grandmother, whose final years were marked by severe dementia. My role was simply to be with several of the Sisters—to sit and talk, give them what they needed, and make sure they didn’t leave the building.
Richard Rohr is asked what one minute wisdom would he share  if he had the whole world for an audience during this one period of time. For Rumi, aging might be that moment when the real of God’s love within us is most apparent because all the externals that defined us are moving away from us. In what ways might I express my gratitude for the REAL that God has created within me and how can I let it shine? He pointed to an item in the parish bulletin: Has your life ever been touched by the Sisters of St.

Cora (not her real name) was a feisty, vigorous, and rather gruff woman who seemed to delight in finding ways to elude my watchful eye. That’s what this blog is, a collage of things I love; random thoughts, inspirations and passions! My mother died when I was eleven, and for the next two years, the Sisters had taken me into their boarding school and under their wing, giving me the support, kindness, and direction that I needed. A former teacher at an all-boys school, she would inform me in forceful tones, “I’m going to the principal’s office now. Why did God allow these things to happen—especially to people who had served him faithfully? But one day, as the two of us sat visiting in her room, she began speaking with unusual clarity. Suddenly, I could see that he was still with her, even as her faculties and sense of self kept slipping away.

Without even knowing it, by bearing witness to Jesus’ presence in suffering, she was still doing God’s work.
It went on to ask for volunteers to help out at the local nursing home for the retired nuns from the order. I’ll be right back.” And she would march grandly off, scolding me like a naughty student when I tried to stop her.
Sometimes the door was covered with hairstyles I liked, but always just ended up in a ponytail.
Sometimes the door was covered with quotes and verses of things that drove my inner spirit.

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