The Sister(s) at the end of the tunnel

Last Thursday, four of us flew up north to attend a conference at Sacred Heart Monastery in Yankton, SD. Our three-legged flight itinerary from Huntsville to Sioux Falls required that we depart for the airport at 4:15 in the morning. We were set to arrive in Yankton via Sioux Falls by mid-afternoon. Other than the early departure, it all sounded good on paper.

But “sounds good on paper” is not exactly what happened. We encountered (in no particular order because I can't even remember the order) one plane sent back to the hanger for maintenance, two delayed departures, one missed connection, one broken pair of prescription eyeglasses, three failed eyeglass repair attempts, one missing flight crew, three missing seat assignments, one closed stretch of Interstate, one hold-your-breath search for an alternate route, one 28-gate sprint after a last-minute unannounced gate change, one 30-minute wait on the tarmac for some late-arriving passengers, one unscheduled eight-hour layover, eight concourses memorized like the back of our hands during one unscheduled eight-hour layover, one hunt for three suitcases missing from the luggage carousel, one missing cell phone left on the other side of security, one dash to find it, one repeat trip through security, one emergency intervention for someone we found in urgent need, and umpteen phone calls to Cullman and Yankton keeping them informed of our (lack of) progress.

We finally arrived in Sioux Falls at 11 something at night and eventually arrived in Yankton shortly after 1:00 in the morning, 21 hours after departing Cullman and about 22 hours after we had originally awakened from sleep.

At the Sioux Falls airport, as I floated down the escalator from the concourse to baggage claim, I recognized the Sister who was there to greet us by the Benedictine symbol that she wore. At that moment of immense fatigue, I could not imagine a more welcome sight. It was truly like seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. Although I had never met her before, I made a bee-line and instinctively hugged her. She ushered her exhausted passengers through the airport, located our luggage, and drove us safely through the Dakotan midnight.

The Sister from Yankton was not the only light at the end of the tunnel on what felt like an epic day of unceasing mishaps and delays. The four of us travelers were lights for each other…keeping each other’s spirits up; finding humor in the midst of frustrating circumstances and flagging energy; expressing gratitude for the fact that we were safe, nourished, and cared for by those on either end of our journey; and seeking to care for one another in our various moments of need...

Although the circumstances were unique, we were really just doing for one another what we seek to do every day here at the monastery – seeking to let the Christ Light shine through us as a beacon to others.

Each morning at Lauds we sing the Benedictus, the Canticle of Zechariah from Luke 1. The canticle speaks of Christ as the “dawn from on high” who shines “on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.”

Even when our darkness is merely one of fatigue and inconvenience, it is still a blessing to find the Light of Christ shining through others. May we each be for one another a light at the end of the tunnel.

A recipe for glory

Yesterday two recipes arrived in my email inbox. They had been sent to me by one of our Sisters who is not one of our usual "Sister chefs." I was so startled to receive the recipes from her that I wrote back humorously questioning what had happened. Knowing she had been on the road for part of the day, I asked “Did you crash into a cookbook?” Of course, part of my surprise was that I am not a good cook so I was startled to be on the receiving end of recipes – as if I would know what to do with them! She wrote back something along the lines of “One never knows...”

And it’s true, we never know. No matter how well we may know someone and know their usual habits of thought or patterns of behavior, we all have the capacity to surprise each other as we grow and change and develop new interests and skills and even new aspects of our personhood over the course of a lifetime.

Encountering unexpected aspects of others or watching them grow in new ways can serve to remind us that the other is a mystery that we cannot grasp. We cannot hold onto the ‘being-ness’ of someone else as if they are something static, forever confined to our image of who we think them to be, no matter how well we may know them.

We can also become confined to our own image of ourselves and refuse to grow beyond who we think ourselves to be. Yet each of us is a living, growing being who, in the words of St. Paul, is called to “grow in every way into him who is the head, Christ.” (Eph. 4:15)

Here in monastic community, even though we lead a common life, God still guides each one of us along our own unique path as we daily give ourselves to our monastic practices and to the common monastic endeavor. An “un-grasping” attitude – toward both ourselves and others – is vital in order to give God’s transforming grace full freedom to flower and flourish within the life of each Sister as she experiences conversion of heart, the fruit of a well-lived monastic commitment.

Experiencing the gradual transformation of my own heart and witnessing the work of God in others is one of the graces of monastic life. Even such a simple event as a recipe in my inbox can shine with the glory of God when I un-graspingly see in it the gracious gifts of those who are traveling with me on the road to eternal life. When I witness in the lives of my Sisters the mystery and reflected glory of the Lord, then I can exclaim with the disciples on the Mount of Transfiguration – “It is good that we are here.”


From the Gospel reading for the Feast of the Transfiguration: "Jesus took with him Peter and John and James and went up the mountain to pray. As he prayed, the aspect of his face was changed and his clothing became brilliant as lightning." Luke 9:28-29