Margaret Cessna

Considering the span of all time, we did not arrive on on Earth that long ago. It took us a while to put our home in danger. Healing won't take place in a flash. But with each new generation there is hope, not despair.

I met Penina 15 years ago, when I volunteered as a family mentor for Catholic Charities Refugee Services. Now she is dead, and I wish I could tell her: Thank you, my friend, for your grace, beauty, dignity and affection.

Between our blessings and setbacks, we are called to share our spirit, our energy, our good fortune.

A simple act of making a sandwich, of welcoming the stranger, of ignoring danger is required. This is what my mother taught her children. Wherever she is, I believe her expectation to this day is that we listened.

Life in a religious community for 60 years has been a life grounded and centered in graced love. The thousands of us in the heyday have become older and fewer. Now is the time to pass the torch.

I grew up feasting on stories, and still do as part of a religious community. Stories of success and heartbreak. Of laughter and tears. They feed our hearts and our imaginations. They fire us up. It is who we are.

Many of us are no longer tethered to the church's past, to the Dark Ages. We see with new eyes and new understandings. The winds of change have blown. There is a new dawn and the sun is rising. We go to the light.

Take my watch, my books, my pots and pans. My every possession. But give me a little more time, please, with skin and bones, with beating hearts and working brains. When you don't, my heart breaks over and over again.

What makes us holy? After many long years with a Catholic conscience, I admit I am no expert on holy. But I have learned a few things along the way. Perhaps holiness is simply happiness that is filled with "yes."

My grandma was almost full of grace. But somewhere inside of her was a pocket of sadness. I rarely saw it but it was always there. What I knew and loved was her grace. She never lost her sadness but grace prevailed.

It doesn't take a genius or a saint to change the world. It just takes a generous heart and a willingness to be open to the moment. That moment creates itself at unexpected times and in unexpected places.

Jesus issued the invitation: "Come follow me." His teachings, his invitation and his life are still with us today. Common as we may be, the rest is up to us. And how beautiful it is to be "common."

American sisters are women who turned on a dime after Vatican II and took on the world. They drew new lines. They changed the face of religious life. Not for being mean but for being smart, kind, generous, energetic, determined. Though we're aging and fewer in number, our work goes on with hope and vigor.

"What do you need?" I asked. She never made eye contact with me. I would like a sandwich for my daughter and me. That's all she said. I tried to chat a little. Not what they needed. They needed food for their bodies.

Mum gave her children a wonderful gift of theology: Come on in. Stop over. Don't be a stranger. No need to guard your heart. No need to measure your generosity. She had no tolerance for racists or bigots. She had a capacity for anger for anyone who hurt or mistreated children.

How could it take four hours for three refugee children with an appointment to get immunization shots? It wasn't because they are refugees. It wasn't because they are Asian. 

In the company of each other, these women who escaped from unspeakable indignities in their native lands come together at Mary's House to voice their fears and concerns and to learn how to persevere and prosper.