The Men in My Life

 

            Yes, I am a woman religious, but I do have men in my life.
             First, there was my Daddy, then six brothers, various priests as spiritual directors or retreat directors, my organ teachers, and finally, the men on Death Row. I also had one visitor at the Guest House whom I’ll never forget. That isn’t all, but these are some who have made an impression on me. Each one could be an engaging story on its own.            We are to receive guests as the person of Christ, and in my job as hospitality director for the Guest House, there are many opportunities. One solitary man on a pilgrimage, like a Don Quixote, had a dream for saving starving children. He spoke gently, prayed and ate with us. Yet he was truly a stranger, a vagrant, one whom we might shun, and send on his way. Did I see Christ in him? Yes I did. My only release from guilt was to reflect on the experience by writing about him.
            After visiting the men on Death Row at Eddyville, one of them has considered me a friend for several years. He is a poet, and author of several short stories. He writes to me regularly, and shares a great deal about himself and his family. I am old enough to be his mother, who is still alive, elderly, poor, suffering from cancer, living in a coal-mining town in the mountains on the other side of the state, so far away from him! And he worries about her. “I was in prison, and you visited me,” I hope to hear some day.
            I think of my organ teachers often when I’m sitting on the bench, knowing that I worked so hard on those Bach preludes years ago and seldom get to play them now. Today it would not sound at all like it did when I first learned them, I am so out of practice, but there are the notations from my accomplished teachers on the music, and I am reminded of their expertise and advice, and I am grateful. Will I be accountable for the use of my talent?            And my brothers – two of them have passed on to eternity; the other four, who were such Katzenjammers when we were growing up, are now proud and loving grandfathers. We have such a great time when we get together, though each of them has his own crosses to bear. (I do have three sisters who have provided me with wonderful brothers-in-law!) It is only in these later years, that I realize the tender side of my brothers, when they’ve been able to show their feelings more freely.
            I will always be thankful to the religious men who guided me through some rough times, and who continue to live the Benedictine way in their own communities, as well as to some of our diocesan priests with whom I’ve worked over the years. For example, the changes resulting from Vatican II impacted women religious in unexpected ways, and we are still reeling. Let us thank God for, and continue to pray for good priests.            Finally, there’s Daddy, always the strong one, the provider, the advisor, yet weak and helpless on his deathbed as we watched and prayed with him. Even there, he had a lesson to teach us: don’t wait so long to say, “I love you.” This followed earlier ones: “Do it today, don’t put it off;” “Never give up;” “Label those photographs.”
            So, these are men in my life, each one unique, each one provided by God for a purpose, and I am indebted, and appreciative of them.        Sr. Mary Carol Hellmann, OSB