Susan Rose Francois

Horizons: After turning 50 recently, St. Joseph of Peace Sr. Susan Rose Francois ends her role as a Horizons writer, saying, "It is important to hold this specific column for the voices of younger religious."

Horizons - I am convinced that we need a collective reset in God's love. We need to know, believe and rest in God's love and then act accordingly. This is our spiritual crisis point, and the reset is the antidote.

Horizons – On the first Friday of Advent, I thought of St. Joseph as I listened to a father tell the story of his holy family’s perilous journey from Honduras to Mexico and eventually, for part of his family at least, to the U.S.

Horizons - Years ago, I read The Other Side of Chaos: Breaking Through When Life is Breaking Down; I focused on the other side aspect — getting to the other side where all would be better. Rereading it now, I understood the other side more as the possibility inherent in the chaotic mess.

Horizons – Can I make space for uncertainty? For imagination? For uncomfortable moments? Mistakes? Hope? Joy? I pray for the freedom to be hospitable to the emerging future already present among us.

Horizons - While religious life has always been intergenerational to some extent, this unique generational mix has never happened before. We have a sacred window of opportunity to mix and mingle in community for mission.

Horizons: When the jury's verdict was announced, finding Derek Chauvin guilty on all three counts, you could almost feel the collective exhale. Yes. We should all exhale, and breathe. But we can't stop there.

Horizons - I honor my parents' work to confront structural racism. I also must acknowledge that I grew up in an all-white neighborhood because of structural racism that directly benefitted my family.

Horizons - Because of the proximity of Dad's birthday to the quadrennial event of U.S. presidental elections, I have watched many inaugurations in the company of my father. Because of the pandemic, we couldn't do that together this year.

Horizons - I wrote these words on Tuesday evening, before the polls closed, a love letter to our democracy, our imperfect collective experiment in government for, by and of the people.

Horizons - Don't panic. Sounds an awful lot like some other sage advice — Be not afraid. Not only did Dora teach me the steps to survive literal quicksand, she models peace in anxious and chaotic times.

Horizons - While I was not involved in the public shaming of Lewinsky, in this post-#MeToo-movement world I am not proud of how many times I've used my miniscule connection to her for personal benefit.

Horizons - This work of becoming anti-racist is for the long haul and is not meant to make me feel better, but to commit to making our society better and our human family whole.

Horizons - Who among us has thought upon waking, or at any other time of day for that matter, that this is a propitious time? That's the word Pope Francis used for this strange moment in history.

Horizons - Our resilience varies in how we are able to bounce back from difficult experiences and bask in the renewing light of joyful moments. The invitation of Gaudium et Spes is to strengthen each other.

Horizons - There are no simple solutions to systemic injustice and global inequality. Yet, my short Christmas visit to Milot, Haiti, and the witness of Sisters Ann and Maureen and Holy Name Medical Center, have deepened my understanding that doing something is better than doing nothing.

Horizons - In the tradition of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace, we say that peace is a gift, given in Christ. It's a perpetual gift, one that we must nurture in our hearts and relationships, even or especially when it is not the easy path.

How might we act in hope to mend the tears and prevent future fragmentation in our society? Recently as I pondered this big question, I remembered the experience of defragmenting my early generation Windows PC. 

Horizons - I find it so hard to comprehend that we can treat children and families so inhumanely today. We know that it is happening in our name, and yet, collectively, we stand by.