I was stapling handouts in the monastery’s Peace and All Good Room, preparing to present my scheduled workshop, when a woman rushed through the door, breathless. « Someone’s fallen, and I need your help with her! » Together we raced to the foyer where an old woman lay with her head upon her arm.
« I haven’t broken anything, » she spoke calmly. « But it will be difficult to get me up. »
I knelt beside her. « I’m Maureen. I’m so sorry this happened! »
« I’m M.J. » She rolled onto her back.
« And I’m Cindy, » said the other woman. « We’ll try and lift you. »
But M.J. was wedged too tightly against a step. Before trying a more personal position I asked, « Is it OK[p’ if I put my hand in your armpit? »
« Yes. That’s fine. »
I slipped my hand into the warm suede crease and suddenly, M.J. didn’t feel like a stranger. An immense rush of love surrounded us. Cindy and I tugged and pulled, but M.J. couldn’t budge. While I felt the beginnings of panic, M.J. remained serene. Another door opened and Maurice, a student from one of my previous workshops, entered and quickly joined in. With the three of us for support, M.J. popped up onto unsteady feet. Maurice and I high-fived, relieved.
The other attendees arrived and we settled into a room covered with brown wallpaper of twisting tree trunks similar to endpapers inside an antique book. A life-sized statue of the Immaculate Heart of Mary hovered nearby. The morning passed quickly as we embraced the Psalms while listening to recorded versions of « Shepherd Me O God » and « Miserere mei, Deus. » M.J. was quiet, but followed attentively as we began sharing our experiences and our longings with a weighted stillness about her. When we took a break to eat the lunches we’d individually brought, we all shared what we had with one another: clementines, juice boxes, chocolate chip cookies.
With only an hour left, we moved to Psalm 139, the one that captures the omnipresence of God. I read it aloud for the group: « Before and behind you encircle me and rest your hands upon me. » Suddenly, M.J. began speaking.
« My mother never showed me any real love. She was a present mother, a solid mother, but I never felt love. I was one of 11 children. She never once held me or told me she loved me. »
We stared, transfixed, sharing her grief.
« I know she did the best she could but I was so empty from this. I grew up and had this wound in my heart. I would cry and cry about being untouched and unloved. But Psalm 139 led me to an understanding of God that helped me let go. I grieved this. Then when I was in Calcutta with Mother Teresa, everything changed for me. »
Everyone’s jaws must have dropped in unison. M.J. was perplexed. « Why do you have those looks on your faces? » she asked innocently.
Maurice and I made eye contact, then we all burst out laughing.
« M.J., » I reassured her, « we’re not laughing at you, but did you just say you met Mother Teresa? »
« Yes. I went to the orphanages in Calcutta to help out twice. I went there to offer what I could. Mother Teresa would tell us, ‘Always hold them.’ I knew to hold the babies. So I came a long way from my childhood to being able to give what I had not been given. »
Holiness filled the room and bound us up together with its beauty.
All I could think was, Thank you God, that she shared. « We’re done around 3:00. I am so grateful we got to hear this, M.J. And I am also grateful that you didn’t hurt yourself this morning. »
« Me too. »
« And I’ve been teaching for a long time, » I teased, « but never once have I had to say ‘Is it OK if I put my hand in your armpit?’ «
M.J., now joining in with our laughter, added, « I am 85. I am at peace. »
I often pray with the words of Mother Teresa, « Do not let the past disturb you, just leave everything in the Sacred Heart and begin again with joy. » Her words now make me think of M.J.’s healing journey, which implanted itself into my heart and caused me to trust in Christ all over again: This woman who had not been held as a child, but who grew up to hold motherless children alongside a saint? A woman who had then let us hold her. All of it, a healing grace.
