A Heavenly Ring and a Holy Death

     2 December 2004   Today is my "make-up" Moses Day, since I had to forego it on the 25th. I began the day by taking a walk in the woods after breakfast. The air was still, bright, and wonderfully crisp from last night's freeze, and I bundled up in my faithful white-speckled black overcoat that I brought with me from Houston, pulled gloves on my hands and a wool scarf over my veil, and went out to immerse myself in the dazzling rays that sliced through pine branches steaming with the evaporating damp. The woods were positively smoldering with cold! I couldn't make out the footpath, the blanket of needles covering it was so thick. But the men have begun to clear it -- I like it better uncleared; it makes it easier to walk on. Those stones are murder on my feet.
     3 December 2004   In the mini-series Anne of Avonlea, Anne says to Catherine Brooke, "Isn't that ring around the moon enchanting?" Never having seen a ring around the moon, I had no idea what she meant, exactly, but I assumed she was referring to a ring of clouds -- I imagined the clouds to be a rather close halo resembling the outer edges of a fried egg, ringing the "yolk" of the moon.
     Well, this morning as I walked out of the novitiate at 5.30, I looked up to find the moon, as is my custom, and lo and behold, there was a ring around it! Not a little "fried egg" halo, but an enormous, sky-wide, perfect, milk-white, filmy but crystalline circle, and the half-moon with a surrounding sprinkle of stars sat exactly in the center. I was so amazed at this, my first sighting of this phenomenon, that I stood there transfixed, my head thrown back in complete discomfort, as the moon was directly above; but I couldn't bear to tear my eyes away.

(The one I saw had a half moon, but I could only find photos with a full moon.)

 

     26 December 2004   Our beloved and revered Sr. Mary William of the Mother of God went home to her Bridegroom last Wednesday morning at 11.30. She took a final turn for the worse early Tuesday morning, and the community was summoned from Office. Sister was still awake and lucid, but it was clear she was failing. We stayed with her for some time; Father came to anoint her. Then before Mass an hour later, I went back to see her again -- there were still with her the Prioress and Sub-Prioress, and a few others. Sister saw me and said weakly, "Oh, look -- here's Leticia." I went to her and struggled to understand what she was trying to tell me, but couldn't quite. Sr. Maria Cabrini said, "She's saying, 'You're in the right place'." So I answered, squeezing Sr. Mary William's hand, "If you say so, then I must be."

     Those were her last words to me. When I saw her next, before Midday Prayer, she was unconscious and breathing with great difficulty.

     That night, her last on earth, I will never forget. There were perhaps 10 of us that stayed with her after Compline, praying, watching, listening to her struggle for breath while she burned with fever. At around 11, Sr. Maria Cabrini had to go back to the novitiate; she simply couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, and also she, like so many of us, was suffering from a cold. Since we are not allowed to go from building to building alone at that hour of the night, I volunteered to take her back to the novitiate; but I realized, too late, that I would have to stay there, because there was no one to walk me back to the infirmary. So I went to bed, still half-dressed, ready to pull on my skirt and veil if Sister should die in the night. But morning came, and she was still with us.

     28 December 2004   When I went to her room before Mass (or was it Midmorning Prayer?) she was conscious again and could understand people, but couldn't speak. When I greeted her, I saw her face change slightly, and Sr. Mary Jeremiah, who was tending her, said to me, "She's trying to smile at you." I could only stay a moment, as the bell had already rung.

     I went to see her again before Midday Prayer. The bell had just rung, and as I approached the infirmary, I heard the running feet of Sr. Mary Jeremiah, who was also heading to the infirmary from the opposite direction. She saw me and shouted, "Watch out behind you!" as she dashed through the infirmary door. I then heard a great clanging cow bell, and turned to see Sr. Mary Christine, one of the infirmary sisters, running and ringing the bell, announcing the death of Sr. Mary William. I hurried to her room, 10 seconds too late, for when I got there, I saw the white shadow of death on the beloved face. The other sisters rushed in and crowded round the bed. As I stood there at the foot, I felt someone's head fall against my thigh, and I looked down to see Sr. Mary Gabriel kneeling beside me, crying. I put my hand on her shoulder as we all sang the Salve Regina. I cried, too, but I was happy that Sister was well at last, and was with Jesus and his Mother and all the angels. She was free. It was the selfish part of me, the part that wanted her here in body as well as spirit, that wept. I was weeping for me.