Summer 2009
“Everyday we are called to do small things with great love.”The above quote by Mother Theresa was placed on my door at the Mother Cabrini Shrine in Golden, Colorado the first week I arrived. I don’t know who placed it there, and although it was followed with new quotes every few weeks… it had the greatest impact on me for it was a guide and is a summation of my experience the last six weeks here at the shrine.
During my short stay with the sisters here, I felt that God was calling me to a time of stillness and quiet reflection so He could show me that we are His beloved and that I am a beloved of God who actually dwells within me. During this time, I have experienced a taste of actually feeling God’s love for me through Jesus: an incredible humbling yet uplifting feeling yet also a relationship that I need to nourish through intimate prayer and reflection.
One of the first tasks I took on at the Shrine was one of nourishment…I began to garden. Many flowers were donated and no one had the time to care for them. Living in a garden apartment at home with little sunlight, I was thrilled to do here what I could not do back home. Unfortunately, these plants were not the best type of plant for the strong sun and the hungry deer population. Despite warnings of these things, I took it upon myself to nurture them back to life, be patient when the deer ate them, and even when I was attacked by fleas! The opportunity to nurture these plants became more important to me than how well they survived. It simply became my duty to try and give them a chance at life.
Although many of the plants died (and are still dying) in the hot Colorado sun, it became part of my mission to tend to them the best I could and allow them to become what they would, either a beautiful plant for people (and bugs) to enjoy or deer food! Reflecting on this now, I think it is a great lesson and comparison to my relationship with God. I need to nurture my relationship with Him in order to grow into the woman he is calling me to be. There will be dry periods where I don’t hear His voice or feel His presence, but I need to keep watering or feeding our relationship. Because if I do, I know that even when the flowers die, if the roots are strong, new green life will grow forth from them. If I keep nourishing my relationship with God, I will grow according to His will as the flowers do. I will be the plant in nature’s hands, in God’s hands to bloom and help nourish another (like the deer) or die to one experience in order to begin another stronger greener one. In a way through my practice of gardening, I am learning to give up the control I feel I need to have to accomplish my will and let God’s peace fill my heart to accomplish His.
As I arrived and began tending to the flowers, I immediately felt right at home with the sisters. They were like the grandmothers I never got to spend time with and/or wise new friends. Hearing their incredible life stories, the struggles they overcame and how they listened to God’s call inspired me with a great respect for each sister and I felt honored to spend time with them.
As I shared meals and prayers with the sisters and volunteers, I learned how many people just wanted to share their stories and be heard. I quickly began to realize that listening was going to be a large part of my ministry at the shrine. It was a privilege to meet so many people and hear about their lives. Yet it was also a great challenge for me not to constantly be doing, moving, producing or sharing my own stories and just slowing down to listen to others. ..that listening is doing something, something important.
The need to listen to others in the main building transferred down to the chapel grotto where I was to spend most of my summer hours greeting visitors and offering information or a listening ear. Yet their presence seemed more helpful to me than I felt I was an aid to them. I felt so blessed to witness the people who came to the Shrine , their devotion, pain, struggles and joys. Sometimes watching individuals, couples, and especially families kneeling down before the altar and the rows and rows of lit candles, I would be overcome with emotion. I felt so privileged to witness their love for our God, a sight so beautiful, my eyes would well up with tears.
Although I felt like I was accomplishing monotonous tasks in the grotto chapel, I tried to keep in mind Mother Theresa’s words and really have a peaceful and prayerful heart about my actions. I cleaned out many many metal candle bases from votive devotional candles so others could light more. I moved countless Mother Cabrini candles (although I think Sister Irma moved more!) from one rack to another so space could be made for new ones. I tended to the cut flowers that visitors donated for the altar…over and over again.
In doing these small simple things, I quickly learned that even though the Blessed Sacrament was not physically present, the grotto chapel was truly a sacred space. It was sacred because it is a room of prayers coming to fruition through burning candles, prayers that were alive, flickering in unison and calling to our Lord in hope, joy, anguish, petition, love and gratitude. As I moved candles, I was privileged to hold another’s prayer in my hands and again lift it up to God. As I cleaned out the small votives, I learned to pray that even though this candle brunt out may our God not extinguish it in His heart and mercifully hear its prayer. I began to feel honored to move the candles.
As I arrived and began tending to the flowers, I immediately felt right at home with the sisters. They were like the grandmothers I never got to spend time with and/or wise new friends. Hearing their incredible life stories, the struggles they overcame and how they listened to God’s call inspired me with a great respect for each sister and I felt honored to spend time with them.
As I shared meals and prayers with the sisters and volunteers, I learned how many people just wanted to share their stories and be heard. I quickly began to realize that listening was going to be a large part of my ministry at the shrine. It was a privilege to meet so many people and hear about their lives. Yet it was also a great challenge for me not to constantly be doing, moving, producing or sharing my own stories and just slowing down to listen to others. ..that listening is doing something, something important.
The need to listen to others in the main building transferred down to the chapel grotto where I was to spend most of my summer hours greeting visitors and offering information or a listening ear. Yet their presence seemed more helpful to me than I felt I was an aid to them. I felt so blessed to witness the people who came to the Shrine , their devotion, pain, struggles and joys. Sometimes watching individuals, couples, and especially families kneeling down before the altar and the rows and rows of lit candles, I would be overcome with emotion. I felt so privileged to witness their love for our God, a sight so beautiful, my eyes would well up with tears.
Although I felt like I was accomplishing monotonous tasks in the grotto chapel, I tried to keep in mind Mother Theresa’s words and really have a peaceful and prayerful heart about my actions. I cleaned out many many metal candle bases from votive devotional candles so others could light more. I moved countless Mother Cabrini candles (although I think Sister Irma moved more!) from one rack to another so space could be made for new ones. I tended to the cut flowers that visitors donated for the altar…over and over again.
In doing these small simple things, I quickly learned that even though the Blessed Sacrament was not physically present, the grotto chapel was truly a sacred space. It was sacred because it is a room of prayers coming to fruition through burning candles, prayers that were alive, flickering in unison and calling to our Lord in hope, joy, anguish, petition, love and gratitude. As I moved candles, I was privileged to hold another’s prayer in my hands and again lift it up to God. As I cleaned out the small votives, I learned to pray that even though this candle brunt out may our God not extinguish it in His heart and mercifully hear its prayer. I began to feel honored to move the candles.
When it was particularly hot in the chapel, I was tired, and candles needed to be sold to large groups of people constantly arriving, it was hard to remain in that prayerful and peaceful place within. It was a challenge not to just look at them as small tasks that needed to be accomplished and sometimes I did. Yet at the end of the day, I was able to look at the rows of candles burning in the stillness and be awed by the faith, power, and beauty they possessed and represented. Then I was able to end the day in that peace.
This is the struggle I know I will face as I leave the quiet of the Shrine and return to the hustle and bustle of work and graduate school in the very flat state of Illinois. I hope and pray that this time was enough to nourish me and give me encouragement through the pressures of my current life to allow me to reflect at the end of the day and be at peace resting in the knowledge that I am a beloved of our beautiful God and I can continue to be on mission doing “small things with great love.”
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