Sisters represent so much more than just themselves. It is both a big responsibility but also one that invites lots of reflective and joyful experiences. Speaking about one of those experiences, here is a guest post from Sister Meg Kymes, a Daughter of Charity. She currently lives in Emmitsburg, Maryland where she works at Mother Seton School and the Seton Center.

Thursday I was awaiting a package from Fed-Ex while I was at school. I felt my phone ring in my pocket (luckily during snack time) and stepped outside to receive the call. I answered and the gentleman on the other side said, “Ms. Kymes? This is Bill from Fed-Ex. I’m looking for your house, but I can’t seem to find it. I’ve passed the antique store.” 

It’s a common problem in Emmitsburg. My own father missed the house twice when he came to visit. “You’ve gone just a little too far.” I replied. “Turn around at the next street and come back about a block. At the first stop sign turn right.” 

He arrived a few minutes later and asked, “What is this place? I’ve delivered to the school, but never here.”
“This is the Daughters of Charity convent.” I replied.
“Oh, so you’re a Sister?” 
“Yes, about two years now.” 
“Tough life. My daughter went to Mount St. Mary’s. A friend of hers became a Sister after college.” 
“Really? What community?” He thought for a moment, but could not remember. I signed for the package told him good-bye and God Bless then returned to class.

Later that evening I checked my phone and saw a voicemail. It was from Bill. “Sister? I wanted to ask you to pray for my daughter. Her name is Megan. She has been having some really bad headaches lately. I know God listens to your prayers, so I thought I would ask. Could you mention it to your Sisters too? Thanks and God Bless you Sister.” 

I was shocked this man would ask me this after a less than a 10 minute conversation. I reflected on this encounter that evening and mentioned it to some of the Sisters I live with. They reminded me that it is not what you do or say, but the fact you represent something much larger than yourself. I later found this quote from Paul to the Thessalonians. “The Lord’s message rang out from you not only in Macedonia and Achaia— your faith in God has become known everywhere. Therefore we do not need to say anything about it…” (1 Thessalonians 1:8)

When I began considering religious life, one of the thoughts that kept coming back to me was I wanted to be part of something larger than me. I am always amazed and proud at community gatherings and when we receive letters from our superiors in Paris and Rome when I hear about all the great work that is being done for our brothers and sisters living in poverty all around the world. It’s beautiful to know that somewhere in the world there are women who like me are given to God, living in community, and serving those living in poverty.

(Sr Meg also wrote a post on Sr Denise's blog about why she wanted to be a Daughter of Charity - check it out here!)

The Bashful Poor: A Guest Post by Sr Mary Jo Stein

(As Thanksgiving approaches tomorrow and we feast with family and friends, it is important to remember those who are poor. How do they feel receiving turkey dinners from food pantries, homeless shelters, etc?
Here is a guest post by Sister Mary Jo Stein, a Daughter of Charity and nurse at a health clinic in Washington DC, about that very subject. She celebrated her 25th year as a Daughter of Charity this past year.)

Sometimes when I walk through the neighborhood to and from the health center where I serve, I imagine myself in Sister Rosalie Rendu’s time and place, as if I were one of the Sisters who served with her in her health center. I think about all the poor people we are privileged to serve here in Washington DC. I come and go in and out of their world, but always remain in my world of privilege, security, education, etc. My coworkers who grew up in this or similar neighborhoods say that those of us who come to serve here but who aren’t part of “the hood” are protected by those who live here. They won’t let anything happen to us because we provide them a safe place to receive health care. So, even in that case, I remain safer and more protected from their harsh reality.

A couple of weeks ago. I think that maybe I caught a glimpse of what it might be like (a very qualified maybe and might) to be on the fringes. I went to the bike shop to see about buying bike lights to continue my urban bike commute safely now that Daylight Saving Time is over for a while.

I walked in wearing my old sweats and t-shirt, not the blue and white habit I usually wear. The owner of the shop asked how he could help me and proceeded to show me his selection of rechargeable bike lights. I had checked my options on the Internet beforehand and had an idea of the price range that was within my budget. He told me all about several options, all of which were much more than I was planning to spend.

However, I had already spotted some rechargeable lights that looked what I needed at the right price. So, I reached for them and he said, “Oh, yes, those are good ones too.” After studying them, I realized I needed to bring my bike into the shop to make sure the lights would actually attach to the front and back frame of my bike.

Later, when I brought it in, the owner showed me how I could connect them to my bike. I remarked that I could detach the bike pack I had rigged up under my bike seat. Well, it wasn't so much a "bike pack" as it was "a lunch pack I have hooked to my bike with binder clips" (the Velcro on the straps wore away last year). As you can probably tell, none of my bike packs are real bike gear – they’re all improvised and rather worn, although still serviceable.

When I said I could carry my work clothes and lunchbox on my back and remove my improvised bike packs to make room for the lights for the ride home, the owner said, “We have a nice selection of bike packs you might want to check out.” I replied, knowing full well that I didn't need any new bike packs “Well, maybe I’ll put that on my Christmas list,”

Perhaps he had also noticed the duct tape repairs on my old faithful bike, because as I reached into my pocket to pull out my budget money to pay for the lights and told him that I had the change in my purse,  he said, “We can forego the change and call it even.”

I immediately felt a mixture of shame and pride that he was thinking I must be poor and he was taking my last pennies. I’m a coupon clipper and love getting a good deal, but my reaction to this was that he was making a judgment of me and I didn’t want his charity. I said, “No, I have it” instead of “thanks, that’s kind of you” or “sure, I’ll take a discount”.

So how do the people I serve feel when I reach out to them? Do they feel like a charity case? Do they feel shame and pride? The owner at the bike shop meant well, I'm sure. But the shame and embarrassment I felt was very real to me, and my quick reaction to maintain my pride was just as real. This was only a few cents; what about those who need so much more, so much more often?

Saint Vincent de Paul, who helped organize the Confraternities of Charity, on which the Daughters of Charity were based and who helped write the regulations, used the expression “the bashful poor” at least 15 times in these regulations. What about the bashful poor in my life?

Keeping the Dream Alive: A Guest Post by Widian Nicola

Guest blogger: Widian Nicola, Program Coordinator at the Center for FaithJustice, devout follower of St Vincent de Paul and his spirituality, and very good friend :)

It has been almost half a century since the late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. painted to the world the colors of his dream: a portrait when "one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers"  And when "one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together." 

This dream is a picture that is still in the process of revealing itself. Although the picture might be unclear, it is indeed continually being painted. It is being painted in the paradoxical nature of our human condition: that of suffering and joy, acceptance and rejection, love and ignorance, temperance and violence, freedom and oppression, and life and death.  Dr. King realized that while a dream could be fully realized, it is not given birth without birth pains and cannot develop without growing pains.  "You have been the veterans of creative suffering," Dr. King said, "continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive."

How magnificent!

What are we to say to the challenge of living in a world that struggles to live out the ultimate Divine Dream of God, as Dr. King did?  The Dream, also called the Kingdom of God, where life overcomes death and love overcomes hate?  It was Jesus who, both divine and human, perfected the art of living in the tension of an imperfect world that could only be restored through redemptive suffering.  Why was he able to do this? Temperance. 

Temperance is the moderation in the indulgence of a given hunger, the discipline of self-control, or perhaps self-restraint in the ways in which we act in self-righteousness. Jesus knew how to live out the Dream here on earth.  He knew how to live with the strain of suffering coupled with joy.  Regardless of the ways in which Jesus suffered, ultimately, he knew that the glory of God must be revealed through temperance: by surrendering and saying yes to the ultimate will of God (death) when it might have been easier to quit, give up, or practice the art of surrendering to the hopelessness that many of us suffer as a result of our human condition.

Abraham refused to give up and pressed on that his dream might become a reality. Moses refused to be a slave and led his people out of oppression that his dream might become a reality.  Job refused to curse God and pressed on that his dream might become a reality.  The Blessed Mother refused to give up that her dream might become a reality.  Isaiah, Jeremiah, Nehemiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, David, Peter, Paul, Mary Madeline refused to give up that their collective dream might become a reality. Dr. King, Mother Teresa, Vincent de Paul, Dorothy Day, Francis of Assisi, Oscar Romero, Joan of Arc, Thea Bowman refused to give up and pressed on that their collective dream might become a reality. 

For Jesus, temperance was not gained through discipline but was channeled through the love he already had within.  Part of the reason Jesus perfected the virtue is because he saw that it is something not be earned, but one that is already within and must merely but accessed.  It was temperance that allowed Jesus to respond with love instead of retaliation, with forgiveness instead of judgment, time instead of an instant, passive resistance instead of revenge.  It is the temperance of the cloud of witnesses in our church family that teach us how to live in the tension, not being ignorant to the ways in which dreams are fully realized: through suffering.

So the paradigm shift is not to ask, “what am I going to do with my life,” but “what can I do with my life that I might join in the collective voice for change in our world?”  In honor of Dr. King and the many saints who have led the way for us to experience a foretaste of God’s Dream yet were not able to see the ways in which they have given life through their sacrifice and struggle, let us celebrate reconciliation through the love they gave more fully.  

May each of us open our hearts to the ways in which God wants us to love, most especially through our vocation.  May we live with the same hope and despair our forerunners lived with in such perfect and peaceful tension.  May we live with courage and temperance of our own self-righteous desires so that we may see our modern, Vincentian, and collective dream come to fruition.  For comprehensive immigration reform, fair housing, education, and end to racism, abortion, human trafficking, and the death penalty; let us live well "on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice"

"Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.  I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream.  This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope."