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My Mission: Letter #5
Dear Family and Friends,
Both December and January have come and gone and I am almost arriving at my 14-month anniversary—the time when I would usually be preparing to return to all of you whom I hold so dear and cannot wait to see again! I have a whole letter of miracles, good news, and prayer requests for you….so lets start from where we left off…
“How is it possible to live this life as a vocation, unless you connect every gesture and breath with God?(…) Go elsewhere, but wherever you go you will certainly have to do little things. Try to do them without love, and see what happens, but doing little things with your whole heart is our vocation.”
On December 15th we celebrated as a community the one year that Heart’s Home has been in Austria—and by celebrated, I mean we acknowledged it. Alina and I left each other notes. But other than that, we didn’t see each other. One year has brought so many blessings and so much growth (aka people to visit, places to be, things to do) I didn’t even actually see Alina on this day! And you know what it made me realize—my complete thanksgiving that God has given me something I didn’t ask him for. What do I mean? I mean—I wanted to escape this type of life: the hustle and bustle, the “always something to prepare or complete or do” pressure. I wanted to escape the stress, the “to-do” lists and organization and projects, and clocks that tell you how little time you have, and due dates, and computers, and Facebook, and cell-phones in order to be completely available and to be a contemplative presence. I wanted to stop focusing on doing and having my life controlled by what I had to do—I just wanted to be free to be with. I wanted to delve deeply into a life of constant prayer rather than having prayer occupy a time slot in my daily schedule.
I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on this point the many times I have been sick in the past couple months when I have found myself lying in bed saying to myself, “I don’t have time to be sick—I have too many people to see, too many things to do.”—and the phone keeps ringing, the emails keep coming, the floor still needs to be mopped, English lessons prepared for my students, dinner cooked, an invitation created and advertisements for events made, a presentation prepared—and all the while an old friend is awaiting a visit in the hospital, the children are waiting for you to come play, the old women are waiting at the nursing home, staring out the windows and yearning for a presence. I have to be too many places—I have too many things TO DO that I don’t think I have time to be free, be available to the Other as much as I want. I think to myself—Why did I come halfway across the globe just to live the kind of life with projects and cell phones and Facebook and meetings and friendships that I could have just lived in America? This whole “being” RATHER THAN “doing” doesn’t seem possible. And, in fact, it isn’t.
And that is what I’ve realized. People ask me what it is that I do with Heart’s Home, or why Heart’s Home is in Vienna and what we are doing here. I tell them that our focus is on BEING and not DOING. Our focus is on the people and their needs from moment to moment rather than planning and projects and filling up schedules. But then I start telling them about our weekly schedules, about the events we are planning for the next couple months, about all the things we are DOING. So either I am lying or there is something deeper going on here—something that requires not a replacement and a “rather than”, but a contemplative cohesion.
It has taken me a year to figure out that it is the latter—there is something deeper—and it is the hardest thing to capture in words. Our presence here is not about working for a service organization for a year or two, and our work is not given worth by the projects we undertake, although we still have them. It is about living daily life in all its complexities and dimensions, but seeking to do with complete openness, self-sacrifice, compassion and prayer FOR THE OTHER. Our lives are given to living every little thing—deeper. What I wanted was to escape all these little things in order to simplify my life and simply “be” and love—but I have discovered one of the most precious lessons—the simplicity doesn’t come in escaping, but in embracing—embracing all the little things and living them more deeply, more intensely, in a spirit of compassion, and most of all grounded in a prayer that shows you your limits in comparison to the limitlessness of God. Everything must become a moment in which I show God my love for Him and for everyone He enables me to meet. The simplicity comes in abandoning yourself totally to Him and His work in you so that you no longer live your day dependent on your own strengths and limits and abilities, but rather, God’s working with you and through you—His working which leaves you in awe and wonder, transforming the moments of normal daily life into moments of adoration.
On December 23rd, God explicitly led me into this beautiful mystery of our presence here when we spent the day with the women and children from the Missionaries of Charity house to have a Christmas celebration with us at our house (even though all of the women and children there are Muslim and don’t actually celebrate Christmas). We spent the day with Louisa and her three children, Elsa, and her three boys, Luba, and woman we had never met before who had just arrived in the house with her two children from Afghanistan. We had lunch together, played, drew and colored pictures, watched a Russian Christmas cartoon that Alina had especially prepared and translated for those of us who couldn’t understand Russian, had a treasure hunt for Christmas presents…and then came the best part of the evening—our trip through the city center to admire the Christmas lights and the Christmas market.
I will never forget the ride on the Straßenbahn with the kids who never go out except to walk the short distance from their home to their school. Their delight and wonder awakened joy in me that had long been washed away by routine and creeping indifference. What is it to look at the little joys of Christmas as a child?
It is to ride the Straßenbahn not merely to get from one place to another, but to have the best moving seats from which to admire the Christmas lights and decorations adorning the hotels and buildings lining the Ringstraße, letting “oohs” and “aaahs” full of wonder and delight escape your mouth, not only to join with the children in their childhood or excite their wonderment, but to catch the “oohs” and “aahs” coming from a true sense of your own childlike delight as you see these lights, really see them, for the first time. Exiting the Straßenbahn and walking up to the Rathaus Christmas Market, my hands were filled with the squirming hands of Ramnat and her little brother as their excitement was made physically manifest and they could hardly hold themselves back from the spectacle of lights and Christmas magic before the famous city hall. The daughter of the Afghan woman had my arm and at one moment, with her face lit up not by the glow of the lights but by the glow of her joy, she looked up at me and exclaimed…”WOW!! This is really Christmas! This is such a gift!! DANK SEI GOTT” (Thanks be to God!) Echoing her prayer of praise and thanksgiving, full of astonishment, I said my own, “God, thank you for their joy and gratitude. Thank you for reminding me that my heart should look like and should be moved to exclaim. What it means to have the heart of a child.” We enjoyed going through the market and seeing the crèche exhibit and then spending time on the wet (not snowy) playground, swinging, climbing, running, and singing Christmas carols. As soon as the women and children were back at their home and we were leaving to return to ours, it was everything we could do to run away quickly before the kids could try again to clench our legs in strong, grateful hugs, and keep refusing to let us leave. Once we had finally made it out of the building, Mathilde turned to me and said, “Now that is gratitude!” What a beautiful reminder it was for what this holiday is really about: Delight in the little things. Giving thanks to God, no matter what you call Him or what you believe about Him. And a Gratitude that leads to pure Adoration------that is the wonder and joy of a child-like heart.
Naturally following the 23rd, came the 24th—Heilige Abend. And what a holy night it was! On Christmas Eve we were 26, from 9 different nationalities (Austrian, American, Ukranian, Swiss, French, Polish, Indian, Pakistani, and Japanese): all one, big, happy family finding friendship and togetherness being the best grounds to share this feast together and to celebrate the birth of Christ—who was not necessarily recognized as the Son of God by each of our friends gathered with us. We were Catholics, Christians, Muslims, and Agnostics, both non-practicing and practicing—who were all brought together by Love Himself. Preparations took the whole day but were simple. We prepared the living room with a Christmas tree, which had been donated to us by the men standing in front of Karmeliterkirche selling Christmas trees, and the dinner tables were decorated with candles and Christmas-y things. Alina and Mathilde took care of the cooking in accord with traditional, Austrian “Heilige Abend” fare—FISH. (Because Christ is not yet born, we are still in the time of penance and preparation for his coming so fish is eaten on Christmas Eve, while meat is reserved for feasting on Christmas day in celebration of Christ’s birth—the fulfillment of our patient preparation) Tomoko and her friend Natzko brought champagne, Wolfgang (a vintner) brought his own brand of wine, and Saima brought an Indian rice dish. Fr. Jacques celebrated the evening mass with Mathilde, Tomoko, Tomoko’s daughters, Natzko, Barbara (a friend of Alina’s from her German course; she is from Poland) and Barbara’s daughters, accompanied by the sweet sound of Tomoko playing Shubert’s “Ave Maria” on the violin. Then it was time to eat! We ate and talked and laughed--with only a slight, delightful interruption of a surprise visit from the Kalpakgians, an American family working at the Franciscan University Gaming Campus and who were in Vienna for the evening. After dinner, Tomoko read to us a few inspiring words from Mother Theresa which were followed by little concert, played to an awed audience of all ages and backgrounds! It was adorable to look around to all the children’s little faces, fixed in awe on the beautiful motions of Tomoko’s bow gliding over the strings. Then came time to gather around the Christmas tree and sing Christmas carols—a part of Austrian tradition that definitely cannot be missed—and then finally open presents (here they are opened on Christmas Eve rather than Christmas Day). Each little child had a stocking full of candy on the tree! And some of our friends surprised us with gifts as well! As the kids were getting sleepy and the festivities were coming to an end, the night was nowhere near the end
for us. Everyone started to trickle out of the apartment and home to their own beds when Monika, Alina, Wolfgang, and I headed to the 3rd District to St. Rochuskirche where one of the most beautiful midnight masses in Vienna is celebrated. That is another important part of Austrian tradition—Midnight Mass. We got there a half hour early, and already there was a crowd in front of the locked, front entrance. At a quarter-to, we were lucky to be at the front of the growing mass of late-night churchgoers and when the door opened we got seats close to the front. A dear priest friend of ours—Fr. Thomas—concelebrated the mass, with four other priests, led and assisted by around 30 alter servers!! It was a beautiful mass—musically, aesthetically, and spiritually—but what really struck me was the presence of the person standing next to me. Wolfgang was raised Catholic but has been nowhere near practicing for years. But there he was, standing next to me, singing the Christmas hymns and participating in the mass. Afterwards I will never forget what he said…”Thanks for inviting me. This has been one of the most special and meaningful Christmas’ I have had. I should have been celebrating Christmas Eve alone, but instead you all took me in. It wouldn’t have been so wonderful without you all, and without this mass.”
“Emmanuel, like doves, settles there. He settles there, where flesh lives.” {Fr. Thierry de Roucy}
Hands down the best Christmas gift I have ever received: CHRIST DWELLING WITH US. No…really. Let me explain. Fr. Clemens left on Christmas Eve to travel to Marchegg, a town an hour outside of Vienna, where the sisters of the St. John Community live, pray, and regularly welcome each of us for our monthly day of silence and prayer. They needed a priest for Christmas mass—so Fr. Clemens was delighted to celebrate with them! When he returned Christmas morning, he had a heavy package under his arm and a smile on his face. We waited patiently until after Morning Prayer and Christmas coffee as a little family, until we couldn’t wait any longer….we had to open our Christmas present! The sisters of St. John had made us a TABERNACLE! Finally our chapel would be complete. Finally we could have Christ’s presence dwelling with us. And what better day to celebrate his dwelling in the midst of us than on the day he took on our humanity 2012 years ago!
After opening the present, we celebrated mass. The five of us gathered in the chapel, singing, praising, and celebrating the inauguration of our chapel, the official blessing of our altar and tabernacle, as well as the repose of the consecrated host in the monstrance for daily adoration. It was all finally complete—our chapel, our house, our community, and our presence here. It was finally complete. Christ gave us Himself on Christmas! O come, let us adore Him!
“Nothing but this discreet, silent, and mysterious Presence can give more meaning to the presence of a Heart’s Home than this given up Body, than this shed blood. The sacrament of the Eucharist is really the treasury of our lives.”
After the mass I went to my room to bundle up and prepare for the walk we had planned that afternoon. Alina followed me into our room a little while later. With tears in her eyes she came right up to me and hugged me so tightly. In a joyful, tearful embrace we had no words for one another—just complete awe at the presence of Christ in our home. It has been a long road: a road down which we have been patiently traveling, ever awaiting this day; a road down which there was never rest until we knew for sure that the house had officially been founded. The foundation didn’t require papers and signatures and support and friends, but first and foremost the Eucharist. A Heart’s Home is not meant simply to be a house, but a tabernacle—the dwelling of Christ in the midst of us, our friends, the world in all its suffering. I, we, have never been in Vienna simply to live here myself, for my own dreams, projects, or desires. I/we never moved to Vienna just because of the allure of the city, the desire to do something humanitarian and good for the world, the desire to have a meaning and a purpose somewhere. My/our desire was rooted in the desire to dwell with Christ and united to Him to go out to others full of His love and service.
After all the hardships, joys, fights, disagreements, delights, and miracles of the past year, Alina and I met in this moment so full of joy and awe. It had been a year of waiting—for this moment. Now, He had finally come. Now our presence here had meaning and fulfillment.
After Christmas mass, we had a lunch of leftovers and wine—it was just so simple and wonderful to be together, just the five of us in community as a family. The rest of the afternoon consisted of a long walk, playing basketball with a volleyball, praying, skyping with loved ones, and feasting once again on leftovers in front of a good movie. Low-key and lovely.
“For a great experience is not limited to its actual enjoyment; there is something called ‘Vorfreude’, anticipated joy, and afterward, there is a resounding joy in the soul, and the gratitude one feels at having experienced it. It is like three musical movements of the same symphony, which enrich and complete each other.”
On the 27th I had the joy of welcoming my parents and brother on their visit to Vienna! Well, the joy started a few weeks before—weeks during which I slept little and couldn’t await the morning Monika and I would stand on the other side of the gate at the airport and I would get to embrace my family for the first time in so long! We spent four days in Vienna together—allowing me to share my life, friendships, home, community, chaos, beauty, city, love—here in my everyday, but far from tedious, surroundings. We spent time with the community for the first two days, sharing mass, prayer time and meals, visiting a museum, and various friends (Nazli and Saima’s for lunch one day, coffee at the gallery of an artist friend of ours, dinner at the home of my Austrian “mother” Agnes and her family, among other things) It was a very surreal experience—the clashing of my two worlds. It was as if we hadn’t been apart. It was as if my heart hadn’t been longing. It just felt right. The ones I love were finally here to share this part of my life with me. And underlying it all was a certain, inexplicable and never before felt comfort, a belonging. This time in Vienna isn’t just a stop-over. This is my life, and finally it received some of the physical synthesis it deserved—even though prayer has preserved a certain amount of unity during the past year. It was a very strong experience of profound happiness, not only to welcome my family, but to welcome them with and in the community. Of course I was happy that my family had arrived and saw all the little details of my life, but it was more so a happiness of gratitude: profound gratitude for the openness of my family, as well as this new family of mine; for my parents and their love next to and mingled with the love of my community; for the first time to really be able to stop and realize the love which my community has for me and which they showed me so vividly in the way they interacted with and served my family. Usually I’m too busy scampering around wanting to make sure everything is perfect, everyone is happy, and everything is going according to how I planned. But this time, there was something different. There was a joy. There was such peace, such a new look of love that I have learned in being here—simply to be present, to serve without anxiety but with the calm of loving someone just how they are and in whatever they want and need. That peace was also very necessary when my brother—the person with whom I was most excited about sharing my life and friendships in Vienna—contracted the stomach flu the night he arrived. He only had two days to spend in Vienna before he traveled to France to see his best friend—the first day was the day he arrived, the second was the day he was confined to his hotel room. There was such a pain in my heart that even though he was here, I couldn’t share with him what I had been craving to share with him for the past year. I felt such a loss that I couldn’t introduce him to the beautiful people who grace my life here, and were also in fact so excited to meet him. It turned out to be such a wonderful lesson because although I was disappointed, I got the chance to skip being upset or let-down and replace those reactions with a desire to serve and love him exactly how he needed. No matter what I had planned or got excited about, what was more important was letting go of pressure and expectations and accepting things the way they are, and embracing them for the occasions they give to surrender, love, and serve. To let go and love.
My parents and I then spent two days discovering Vienna together—Christmas markets, restaurants, symphonies, city sights, etc—before we left for a 10-day trip in Southern Germany. It was all so blessed. I could go on and tell you all the details of their trip—but then, why would I write a blog J I invite you to visit my blog and see all the pictures and fun little stories from our days in Vienna, and also our trip through Germany!
“Pray for me, that I may give to Our Lord all that He asks without a thought of self”
So the New Year has come and our not-so-normal life continues on. Daily life is full of praying, visiting friends in the hospital, babysitting children, visiting the elderly in the nursing home, visiting ex-convicts in rehabilitation centers (a new apostolate we have started. Alina and Fr. Clemens go every Wednesday afternoon), spending time with the sick in their homes, doing office work, arranging appointments, opening our house to guests—including our weekly Sunday night film evenings in which we have around 20 guests to watch a movie, eat dinner, and discuss what we watched, going grocery shopping, doing the accounting, praying for you all, praying for those who request our prayers, cooking, holding night adoration once a month, gathering every Friday evening with friends for “School of Community”, answering phones, emails, doors, listening to the sighs, joys, and cries of hearts. Miracles. Everyday Miracles.
There are also some big things going on: we are now close to the official founding of Heart’s Home as an organization recognized by the Viennese government. What does that exactly entail? Well, some statues and visits to lawyers, creating a Board and having board meetings, making the accounting official, receiving funding from the state, being able to search for sponsorships from companies in Austria who will donate food, office supplies, and other necessities for our lives here. We will be recognized as an NGO, be able to receive donations in Vienna, be able to offer a civil service year to Austrian youth who are all required to do a year of civil or military service after graduating high school, have an official website, etc. These are some very exciting steps! We will also be able to go to schools and youth groups to give presentations on Heart’s Home, to attract potential volunteers to doing a mission with Heart’s Home. Here in the house in Vienna we will be able to give informational weekends and training to volunteers from Austria and we’ll be responsible for sending out volunteers: the logistics, the sponsorship and donations, the sponsor letters, health insurance, etc. (all the things previously done only in France, Berlin, Italy, and New York). I am particularly responsible for contacting the businesses concerning sponsorship and donations, as well as setting up opportunities for presentations in schools and youth programs. Its so beautiful to see how the mission grows everyday and how much we rely so much on God’s Providence!
To conclude, I want to entrust myself, the community, all the changes and growth more deeply in your prayers. I entrust to your prayers all the people I have met here, whose stories I have shared with you or have yet to share with you. And finally, the big news—as you know I received my residence permit to stay here until November, which is quite frankly too long. But through a long process of discernment and advice, I have asked and been allowed to stay in Vienna and continue my mission with Heart’s Home until MAY (a 3-month extension). But now I have to beg you all for your “yes” in order to confirm and uphold the “yes” I desire to give the Lord. I beg you for your prayers and your support, after a little over a year of knowing the strength they give me and all the wonders and beauty they make possible. And I am also in need of more financial support—all together $1,300—and I humbly ask each one of you, full of gratitude for all the help you have already given me, to discern helping in a tiny or big way—helping me bring OUR mission to completion. I am sure that none of the past 14 months have been possible without the daily knowledge that I am not here alone and living only for myself, but I am united with all your hearts. Of course, I will continue to bring you with me to every visit and offer you, your families, and your intentions to God at every mass. I thank you in advance for all the support you can continue to give!
Please pray that all we do and all we say may be only in and with the Holy Spirit. Please pray for us that when we are not speaking, we are smiling. Please pray for me that I may give to Our Lord all that He asks without a thought of self!
All my love and prayers,
Marylouise
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My Mission: Letter #4
Dear Family and Friends,
This is just a “ little” (I don’t do “short”) letter to invite you to share in some of the things that have taken place
in our lives this month. It’s the end of November and I know it is too early for an official sponsor letter, but
some experiences, some lessons, some events are too precious not to share, so I write you an un-official letter in
between.
“The smaller and weaker a child is, the more closely one holds it to one’s heart.”
Tuesday afternoons are my favorite. Every week we are expected at the house of the Missionaries of
Charity to do nothing but play, teach, and love (and sometimes lovingly reprimand). A month ago, Fr. Jacques
and Alina went to help at the soup kitchen run by the sisters of Mother Theresa during which they discovered
the third floor refugee home for women and children from Chechnya and Dargestan that the sisters run. Very
little German is spoken—mostly Chechnyan or Russian so it is providential that Alina speaks Russian! Nearly
all, if not all, of the women have no papers to enable them to work in Austria because they came as political
refugees. Most of the children go to child care/school during the day, so when we arrive there are some kids that
need help with their homework, and some who simply need a playmate. Of course, since the mothers don’t
understand German, communication is difficult. Yet, between Alina (and her Russian) and the women,
beautiful, genuine friendships seem to be growing as she sits and listens to their stories and their woes
(translating for Mathilde and I as well), helping them learn German, and even helping them do simple things in
Vienna like go to the dentist. So we spend the afternoons doing homework, playing, sitting with the women in
the kitchen drinking tea, shelling walnuts, peeling potatoes. Since it is only women and children that are
allowed in the house, some of the husbands and older sons who are still with the families (some were shot and
killed in the war, some stayed in Chechnya, some are divorced) live in other shelters or on the streets and
finding money where they can because they don’t have work papers, “Schwarz arbeit” or illegal work is
difficult to come by. Louisa, one of the women who has become especially close to us and with whom we spend
a great deal of time, just heard a couple of weeks ago that her husband was caught by the Vienna police and sent
to Poland because although they legally traveled from Chechnya to Poland, they illegal entered Austria.
Currently he is in jail in Poland and already to be separated from her husband was difficult, but to know he is
now in jail is an even greater sorrow to carry, especially with three children to take care of!
Speaking of her three children, all the children are so dear and love to play, but Louisa’s two boys and
one girl spend a lot of the time playing with us. Her two sons are exceptionally rough and rowdy—at such a
young age they already flip me the middle finger when I do something they don’t like, and they are accustomed
to hitting and punching in order to get their way. When you cannot communicate, setting a good example and
keeping the peace is difficult! Some afternoons I ask myself how it is at all possible—but in fact, setting a better
example and loving them through it all is the only thing possible without a common tongue. The love they need
is not tough love or angry love, but gentle love. God teaches me every Tuesday just how much patience I lack
and just how much He needs to be my gentleness! Some afternoons they can get really out of hand and leave me
exasperated and exhausted. Yet, I always have to be brought back to face my own weakness and lack of love.
How I need to grow in the love that is gentle in loving them exactly how they are—not wishing they were
different and not rejecting them for being as they are, no matter how rambunctious and sometimes hurtful it can
be. To the rational, responsible, practical eye, the children needed to be scolded about 98.3% of the 2 hours we
spend with them…leaving 1.7% of time for gentleness. But really, these children need 98.3% gentleness. They
need to be held closely to our hearts. No matter how many bruises or insults that “holding closely” reaps. Some
fathers are in jail, some were shot in the war, some mothers are divorced, some are too afraid to even leave the
apartment. Some children can speak and understand. Some are old enough to be in school and yet can’t even
recite the alphabet. Some get everything they want, some are deprived of everything. Some have seen horrible,
horrendous things already in their lives. Some only experience horrible things at the hands of those who neglect
them, ignore them, or punish them. Some smile so sweetly and purely just wanting to be taken care of and dealt
with delicately. Some smirk and squirm and try to get under your skin the moment you arrive, if only to get a
couple of minutes more of your attention. Some need to be held. Others need to be held closely. But in the end,
all need to be gently loved. Just for who they are, as they are.
. . .
Every Friday afternoon we spend at Haus St. Barbara, a retirement/nursing home, to which God led us
after the connection we tried to make with the orphanage for handicapped children (where Jacqui lives) fell
through. Where God closes a door, He opens a window. Thus, every Friday we pay a visit to some of our
Austrian Omas and Opas. We visit them in their rooms, go on walks through the corridors or in the sunshine of
the garden, we share the afternoon “Kaffee und Küchen”, and most of all we listen, or sit and hold a soft,
wrinkled hand without saying a word.
One of those hands belongs to “Mama”, a friend of mine who has revealed to me the return of the aged
to infancy in all its beauty and pain. Frau Weiser (“Mama”) has no teeth. She is unable to walk without
crouching half-way over, and dizziness never abandons her. The day I met her she was sitting alone in the
hallway and Martin (one of the male nurses) pointed me her way. “Forget what I asked you to do. Instead, go sit
with her. Hold her hand and stroke her arm. Don’t bother trying to hold a conversation. It is difficult for her to
speak, but she craves physical touch and being able to really feel your presence near her.” So I sat with Mama
and introduced myself. Receiving no response or turn of the head, I took her hand and clasped it between mine,
smiling a hello. Her hand didn’t lay limp in mine. She acknowledged my presence by squeezing my hand, yet
still not saying a word. She turned my way, smiled, and then let her eyes fall to the floor. Sometimes breaking
her silence, she would lift her head and loudly exclaim, “Mama!” at a passer-by. Otherwise we sat in silence.
But her hand never stopped clenching mine.
On her good days she speaks a little and we can carry on a conversation. She mostly tells me about her
parents (whom she is convinced are still alive), her husband, her sewing, her sickness. One time, she simply
looked at me and told me that I had beautiful eyes and beautiful teeth, just like her mother has. She herself has
the most beautiful, crystal blue eyes, and thick, long, silver hair. After looking intensely into my eyes as if to
study my heart, she laid her head down on my shoulder and rested. “Mama” was no longer 80; she was 16
months old and delighted in the closeness of someone to hold her. Someone to be there with her at her level and
her capacity—sharing a couple of hours of her life with her. She needs physical presence; she needs touch to
know love.
On her “bad days” Mama isn’t completely “there”—her reactions are delayed or non-existent, she cries
quietly but frequently, and the one word she repeats over and over is “Mama”. Her eyes are full of pain, her
breathing is heavy, and her dizziness so bad that she stands up to walk and must immediately fall back into her
chair. On those days, I wonder if she even knows that I am there an hour with her, if she knows that I have
visited, who I am, or if it even makes a difference to her. Yet still, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Following a “bad day” the week before, one particular Friday she was much more responsive and energetic
During the afternoon snack. time, we were sitting in the same place, at the same time, eating the same snack as
the week before during which she didn’t respond to my presence at all or know who I was. But this time, she
remembered! She energetically told everyone who passed that her friend had come again to visit and she was so
happy that she squeezed my hand and kissed my cheek. Before I was getting ready to walk with two others
down to the garden, I was sitting with Mama and something she said made me laugh. She looked at me very
seriously, and then her eyes lit up, and she herself smiled. She said to me, “When you smile, then I am able to
smile.” Be it a bad day or a good day, Mama has become so dear to me.
In my German course back in August we did an exercise on aging: If there was a pill that would make
you not age, would you take it? Even if you would still die in the end, you would be young, energetic, and good-
looking up till your last breath. Would you want this? The common consensus of the class was “yes”, even I
said “maybe”. But then I was granted the gift of visiting the nursing home where, if I interacted with the lives of
the elderly with only a worldly perspective, an affirmative answer would only be more affirmed. Who wants to
live like these elderly, with such suffering and pain. It is truly a suffering you cannot escape because you are
constantly being oppressed by the limits of your body, things you cannot control, and more often than not you
are left alone to endure them. You are completely dependent on others, after having known the freedom of self-
sufficiency. It is seen as a torment to grow older. But with a perspective in the light of Christ and his
words, “Become like little children” echoing in my ears, I can’t answer the question affirmatively. To become
like little children—there is a humility, dependence, and surrender required. Visiting Mama has made me
realize that what we see as a curse of our mortality is actually a gift for our eternal life. United to our souls, the
material limits of our bodies are forcing our souls into surrender, into holiness, because unlike the first, natural
childhood, this second childhood is harder to accept. The humility is more painful and the fear of surrender
greater.
What is interesting to me is that our presence isn’t looked upon at first with suspicious eyes, seeming to
ask, “Why are you here spending time with me? Am I a charity case? Do you pity me?” Instead, with an arm
grasping for stability to walk, eyes searching for a look of love, they welcome the company. To the weak voice
yelling, “Mama”, peace comes with presence. Like a baby crying in the dark…”Thank you for hearing me, my
screaming. I just didn’t want to be alone. I just need to know that you are here. I need to be held, to be looked
at. Please, just stay here with me.”
“Music, the language of the heart. It helps us to hope in a better world.”
This month we have had the blessing and great gift of very talented musician friends of ours holding
benefit concerts for Heart’s Home! The first was held on the 9th of November, and was planned in a short three
days after a friend of mine from college contacted me and told me he was traveling in Austria and wanted to
meet! Meeting actually turned into Kevin Heider and three of his friends arriving in Vienna the day before they
would catch their flight back to America and Kevin and his friend Ross playing a concert at the housing
community for Catholic, university students. Although it was Kevin’s idea to have a concert, it wouldn’t have
been at all possible without the help of one student who has become a great friend of ours named Patrick. He
took care of everything and made the whole evening run smoothly—and he did it with no interest of his
own…simply to help us…his only motive being that of friendship! I was completely in awe of his
thoughtfulness, generosity, and service. Kevin played for a comfortable and intimate audience of around 30
university students all of whom, no matter what country they come from and what language they originally
speak, were delightfully clapping, stomping, and SINGING along by the end of the concert. I was completely in
awe that the support Kevin usually had among his friends and fellow students back at Steubenville, he had in a
room full of foreign strangers—who were immediately transformed into friends and fans. After the concert
there were sandwiches to be eaten, beer and juice to be drunken, and time to get to hang out with the students
and for the students to spend time convincing Kevin he could be famous in Europe.
The second concert took a lot more time of planning and preparation and was the offical Benefit Concert
of the Heart’s Home in Vienna this year, given by a dear friend of ours and professional violinist—Tomoko
Mayeda. If you have never read my blog, then you have no idea who Tomoko is, so I will give a little bit of a
background. Tomoko is a 39 year old Japanese woman, a professional violinist, and a mother of two lively
daughters—Keiko and Reiko. Monika and I met Tomoko back in June through a priest friend of ours Father
Leo Maasburg, the director of Missio in Austria and one of the many spiritual directors of Mother Theresa
during the later years of her life. The first thing Tomoko (who is, by the way, not even baptized) revealed to us
upon meeting, was how she met Fr. Leo and that her deepest passion, next to violin playing, is Mother Theresa.
Tomoko met Fr. Leo after a friend of hers gave her the book he wrote about his experiences at the side of
Mother Theresa. The book so touched her and helped her through an especially trying time in her life that an
immense gratitude welled up inside of her and she was moved to do something to contribute to the life and
work of the Missionaries of Charity. She got in touch with Fr. Leo—who she immediately befriended, and then
ended up holding a concert to benefit the Missionaries of Charity house in Vienna—the one we visit every
Tuesday. Telling us about these experiences naturally led her into quoting some of her favorite excerpts from
Fr. Leo’s book and showing us a miraculous medal and picture of Mother Theresa that she keeps in her wallet!
Tomoko’s joy was so contagious! After exchanging contact information and receiving an invitation to her next
violin concert, Monika, Tomoko and I parted ways—I myself leaving full of gratitude for Mother Theresa, and
for the beautiful beginning of friendship with Tomoko.
Since then our friendship has grown through concerts, dinners, cups of coffee, babysitting her girls, and
more concerts—and always under the loving and providing hand of God’s grace. I have slowly been brought to
the realization, not only through our friendship with Tomoko but with many others as well, that there is only a
difference in spelling that differentiates “friendship” and “miracle”—otherwise they are one in the same.
The miracle of her friendship also bore fruit for not only each of us personally, but Heart’s Home as a
Charity when Tomoko declared over coffee one day that she wanted to put on a benefit concert for us. So we set
right to work at planning the beautiful evening that took place on November 11th. The concert was held in
Karmeliterkirche—the Church to which our apartment is attached. Tomoko and her friend Miharu played works
from Back, Leclair, Zimmerman, and others. Following the concert the event room of the parish was turned into
a warm and cozy space to come together, to eat and drink (thanks to the generosity of sponsors we found both
in big Viennese firms, and neighborhood restaurants and bakeries), to hear and see a presentation on the Heart’s
Home in the Phillippines, which our friend Ulli, and former volunteer with Heart’s Home, gave during the
evening, and to hear Tomoko and Miharu spontaneously play as the night went on and the atmosphere of the
evening lent to more spirited and lively music.
It was a wonderful chance to work with Tomoko and to go deeper into our friendship with her and into
the compassionate spirit of her music. Tomoko performs like I have never seen a violinist in my life. There is
such an intimacy in her playing, and yet such a freedom to share it with you; not as if you were strangers
standing before her and watching her, but as if you were together with her in her playing, as if she let you come
so close in this intimate moment in which she played her life out in each trill and stroke, that it was as if it was
your own. It was as if you could feel her passion burning in your own chest, her joy, her sorrow, her
thanksgiving. She has such a simple humility that left me breathless—for it is utmost genuine humility, which
doesn’t shy away from one’s gifts and presenting one’s gifts before the other. Rather, it has a freedom and a
peace which gives one’s own gifts with joy and passion, wishing to share with another what she herself sees as
not simply her own success in learning to play, but as a gift she has been given as well. There is no pomp or
circumstance, just joy and simplicity—as if this yet un-baptized woman was smiling and whispering through
each note: “Come! I want to share something with you! Listen! Do you hear what He gave me? Isn’t it beautiful!
Would you like me to play it again?”
The fruits of the benefit concert were not just the 400 euro we raised, but the time we got to spend with
those who helped us put the concert on, friends who helped us cook, contact sponsors, go begging for donations
for food and flowers, and set up the concert. We met many new friends both from the neighborhood and
through word-of-mouth, and the free internet advertisements we were able to coordinate. We got the attention
and interest of some people who want to be more involved either as sponsors, or as potential volunteers with
Heart’s Home, and most importantly we enjoyed the fruit of being together. A friend of ours, a priest from a
neighboring parish, commented to a friend of ours—“Now this….this is community….THIS is the Church!” –
And that could only have been done by the Holy Spirit and His presence among us and through us.
“Abandon yourself to me; you’ll never regret it. Go out of your depth in the Ocean and let yourself be borne
up…for the Ocean is Myself. Sail on Adventurer…”
Oh and one more thing: I RECEIVED MY RESIDENCE PERMIT. On November 10th—the feast of our patron,
Fr. Hermann Cohen—I received notification that I had been granted a residence permit. Even more surprisingly
was it’s date of expiration: NOVEMBER 2012! Austria granted me residence for an entire YEAR! I entrust
myself to your prayers and support in this time of discernment and searching. My commitment with Heart’s
Home will be finished in March, but I am in the process of discerning what this means for me—if I am being
called to stay longer here with Heart’s Home or to keep within my original, 14-month commitment. I will have
to officially make the decision at the beginning of the New Year.
Now, I leave you with a request for your continued prayers and the promise of mine.
Pax,
Marylouise
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My Mission: Letter #3
“If you’re really listening—if you’re awake to the poignant beauty of the world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break, its purpose is to burst open again and again so that it can hold evermore wonder.” | Andrew Harvey
My dearest Family and Friends,
The past four months (shoot, didn’t I promise to be better at this??) have been just exactly as Mr. Harvey describes...my heart bursting at every encounter, opportunity, gift, and challenge and I hope I can share with you the sheer beauty which I am blessed to encounter everyday, and thus share with you the wonder and awe of the Spirit’s work in our mission, in this city.
At the end of July, my time alone in Vienna ended and we were reunited after Alina had successfully completed her exams and Fr. Jacques could take a momentary break from traveling. Being back in “community life” after being alone for circa 2 months definitely came with its challenges, but the difficulties were fused together with lovely moments of being together and sharing the gifts that God faithfully bestowed on us in every moment. In July we were joined by a fourth temporary community member—Renee—who stayed with us for a month during her participation in a dance convention in Vienna. Renee is a professional dancer who met Heart’s
Home in Brooklyn when she was living and working in New York. She returned in March from two transformative years of mission with Heart’s Home in India and now is busy seeking out her next life step. Spending the month together and sharing her daily experiences deeply immersed in the international dance and art scene in Vienna was an extraordinary gift for us and enabled us to better discover the world of modern art in traditional Vienna. Renee also gave us the privilege of helping us host our first, cultural event to which thirty of our friends came to watch Renee dance and give a slideshow presentation of her experience with Heart’s Home in India. From Magdalena, a homeless woman from Romania, to Christof, a chief executive in a Viennese bank, the audience was widely varied but united by friendship and a thirst for beauty—quenched both by witnessing the life of Heart’s Home in India and Renee’s dance.
“My humanity is bound up in yours for we can only be human together.” | Desmond Tutu
I’ve been having a crisis as of the past few months, which started when I realized—I have no idea what love is and I have no idea how to love! I searched in books I could read, prayers I could pray, and of course there is that part in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians that hits the most important components, but I was at a loss because I was failing miserably concerning the practical application. I had moved here to Austria to busy myself only with loving, and yet I had no idea how to love, or at least I was failing a lot. Then, in August, Alina and I attended a month-long, German course, which although it wasn’t written in the class description, was just the beginning of another course all together—an intensive course on the subject of love that was taxing my heart and soul. My teacher happened to be a mother of two from Pakistan named Nazli, who has also become an inspiration and a friend. Little by little, through our friendship she has been teaching me what it is exactly to be human, to have a heart of flesh rather than a heart of stone, and what it means to truly love.Nazli has been living in Vienna for three years with her two daughters, Aroma (11) and Anna (9). They are from the 2nd largest city in Pakistan and speak Urdu, a little bit of Arabic, fluent English, and German, but together we mostly speak English. Three weeks into our German course, she invited me to dinner at her apartment so I could meet her daughters, as well as another woman, Saima, and her 1 1⁄2 year old daughter who also live with Nazli. The first evening I spent with them was during Ramadan, the traditional month of fasting for Muslims, which Nazli and Saima and all the girls are. That evening I got a chance to get to know this lively family (or two it seemed at first with Saima and her daughter), as well as learn about Ramadan. That evening, they delighted in letting me live their culture with them: waiting until 8pm to break the fast by eating a date, eating traditional foods, singing traditional songs, etc. It was beautiful to be included but sharing with them what is important to their lives. I have discovered a very beautiful culture, not only in the food and songs, but in the respect and kindness, which Nazli treasures in her culture and has worked very hard to instill in her daughters. From the very instant I walked in the door I was treated like a queen like I had never experienced before. Their respect wasn’t distant, or forced, but a care that was second nature, as if my happiness and comfort was of the greatest importance and gave them the most joy. I was dumbfounded. Nazli later explained to me that respect and serving guests in this way is a very important aspect of their culture. Yet, to see the young girls lovingly embrace this culture in such a personal way was impressive. When Anna and I were playing UNO before dinner and Aroma brought me a glass of water (on a tray!), I said, “From the moment I arrived I have felt like a queen!” to which Aroma replied, “Good, because here, you are! You are our new sister and a queen because you are our guest!” And so it was! Within 15 minutes of arriving I was a sister and a queen. To meet them for the first time, but to be welcomed so lovingly into their home as if it were my own and to be invited so wholly into their lives, not as a stranger, but as a sister, left me in awe and gratitude.
With every visit I am brought deeper into their lives, which they so freely and openly share with me (and Alina). I am rendered speechless as I discover more and more the radiant, quiet strength of Nazli. Five days a week, she works from 6pm until 6am in a factory, then she sleeps for an hour before going to her German course, and then afterwards maybe sleeps for three more hours in the afternoon before the girls get home from school. Her patience outlasts her fatigue and the joy is never wiped from her eyes, even if they are encircled by dark circles from lack of sleep. Not to mention, she has a beautiful relationship of respect and love with her daughters like I have never before experienced.
In the time we have spent together, it has also been a blessing to be invited into their culture to learn more about their devotion and religion in a completely open way. The second time I was invited over, I celebrated an EID fest with them (a holiday in Islam) and Aroma wanted to show me how they have to read the Koran with their head covered, with the book resting on a pillow in her lap, and never allowed to turn her back or feet towards the book. The respect of the two girls for their religion was profound—not as something they are forced to participate in but something they cherish and recognize the value of. It was interesting to learn about it through their young eyes rather than in a textbook. They explained that they show so much respect to the Koran because, “it is as if there was a king sitting in the room with us!” Later, Aroma even recited some prayers in Arabic so I could hear them! It was so beautiful! Speaking about their religion led Nazli to share with me more about her life in Pakistan, the life she loved which was successful, organized, peaceful, philanthropic (she even took people into her own home who couldn’t find jobs and who were begging on the streets). Hearing of such prosperity and happiness led me to ask, “Then why did you come to Vienna? Why did you leave it all?” To which she just smiled and shook her head at me. It wasn’t the time in our friendship to share this part of her life with me. Which is another thing my friendship with Nazli has been teaching me. There was so much mystery in Nazli’s story that wasn’t shared until much later on, when the friendship and trust in our friendship was really developed. It showed me the importance of distance and mystery in friendship. She is so open and welcoming, really showing her delight in spending time together, but love and friendship with one another does not exclude privacy and distance. In fact, Father Jacques has said that many times—friendship truly requires a distance because you are not others’ fulfillment, safety, or savior—only God is. It keeps your friendship from being exclusive, and instead, open and fruitful.
Due to Nazli’s schedule, it only works out to meet every other week or so—a time in which I visit to spend time with them, hear about their school, their activities, help with homework, sing, dance, play UNO and simply share their lives. One afternoon I asked them if their friends ever come over to play—I had never seen or met any one. Anna explained to me that if their friends saw where they lived and knew about their family, then they wouldn’t be their friends anymore; they would make fun of them or look down on them for their poverty. She said it with such sadness. It broke my heart to hear, but also showed me even more clearly the blessing of them first welcoming me into their home—that they allowed me to visit, and return again, that they trusted me. And I have to think back on that first time....what a step it must have been, what a risk—the risk that friendship requires.
That same afternoon Nazli and I got to spend some time together and she began to share more with me about her life. Her husband had already been living in Vienna when he asked her to come with the girls and join him in Austria, leaving everything behind in Pakistan. Obedient to her husband, she moved to Vienna, and moved into a nightmare. The family of her husband treated her like a slave, her husband rarely spoke to her with his words, but instead used his abusive, regularly assaulting her in front of their daughters. At one point, the abuse was so bad that she knew she had to call the police, who upon arriving told Nazli and the girls to stay in the house and her husband would be forced to leave. He moved in with his parents and the only connection they maintained was that he would see the daughters ever so often. Two years ago her husband took a new wife—his boss at the hotel where he worked, a young, beautiful and very intelligent woman. They had a child together,but he never changed. The little contact Nazli had with him revealed to her that the situation was the same—the new wife and child were caught in the same abusive prison. One night, the wife came to Nazli’s door and gave her child to Nazli asking her to look after her because it was no longer safe for the child to remain with the abuse. When the woman turned around to leave, Nazli insisted that she couldn’t let her leave and return to the husband as well. Nazli offered to take the woman in and provide for the two and help free the woman and child from the violence and pain. The wife, weeping, but filled with new hope, agreed and moved in—and that is how Saima and Irena came to live with Nazli! As she was telling me all of this, I was utterly stunned at her selflessness, beauty and strength. Nazli said
that of course it isn’t easy—that the marriage
bed is the marriage bed and for the second wife of her husband to need to be taken care of and loved in this situation isn’t always easy. To take care of her husband’s child by another woman was very difficult at first. Her family and friends think she is crazy and argue with her all the time, telling her that taking Saima and Irena in was wrong and to take in, provide for, befriend, and truly love the second wife of your husband is simply crazy. Yet Nazli explains, “But she is not just the second wife of my husband. She is a human being. She was broken by him and she was in need of love, of safety, of peace. She needed a refuge and an escape. I
knew first-hand what she suffered because I had suffered it as well and there is no human being that deserves to suffer like that. I am a human being, she is a human being, and we need to take care of one another human-to-human, not paying attention to all the little details on account of which we can end up robbing one another of our dignity. I cannot hate her and I must not love her, but I chose to love her. I want to love her because she is a human and deserves love simply so.” (speechless) To see the love that she chooses to give Saima and Irena is heavenly—true charity, true joy, true
sacrifice and true devotion doesn’t just flow from Nazli to Saima, but also from Saima to Nazli, from Anna and Aroma to Saima and the reverse, and of course, so much love surrounds the little joy of all their lives—Irena. To see the love that they live out in their daily lives together, the way they take care of one another and support one another, as well as the children of one another is remarkable. Just being around them gives you hope for humanity. Belief in the possibility of forgiveness, in something greater than personal interest and selfishness. The magnitude of what true love for another is. I learned more through the German course than vocabulary and verb conjugations, but indeed I cannot quantify all that I have learned about love and humanity and forgiveness and self-gift. I cannot believe the path the Lord lays before us here. We need not search or strain ourselves too much for friendship is a miracle. Friendship is a gift. A gift He gives us at exactly the right time. And one other thing I have learned—I never want to leave this school.
A BABY IS BORN
Sitting at dinner one September evening I was remarking at how really, after nine months I was finally beginning to see with my own eyes and heart, in varied and blessed ways, why we are here, and how exactly God is calling us to serve Him and his children in Vienna. Of course, the little glimpses and hints were always there along the way, but truly in September the life of Heart’s Home in Vienna began to be seen. In reply to my meanderings, Fr. Jacques simply smiled and succinctly said, “Well, it takes 9 months for a baby to be born.” I guess you can say that in September we celebrated the long-awaited birth of the life that was conceived in December—and the birth has come of course with all kinds of new lessons, exhaustion, delights, and GROWTH. Now our lives are run by this new child—all full of energy and exploration and joy—and we can just do enough to keep up with the Spirit! For starters, our schedule seems to have taken some shape. Every morning we say Morning Prayer, sometimes paired with Mass at 7:30. Our mornings are usually spent doing work, studying German, arranging visits, or spending time in prayer. We usually eat together at 1:00 and then pray the rosary together before beginning the work we have to do in the afternoon or while we are on our way to visits. I look forward especially to Tuesday afternoons because every week from 4:00-6:00 we visit a shelter at the Missionaries of Charity house where about ten refugee women from Chechnya have been taken in along with their children. We spend a couple hours there visiting the women (thank God Alina speaks Russian and can communicate with them!), helping with kids with their German homework or trying to help the women learn German as well, and playing with the kids. Every Friday morning we have cleaning day, followed by a visit to Haus St. Barbara for a couple of hours. St. Barbara’s is a retirement/nursing home to which God led us after the connection we tried to make with the orphanage for handicapped children (where Jacqui lives) fell through. Where God closes a door, He opens a window. Thus, every Friday fom 1:00-3:00pm we pay a visit to some of our Austrian Omas and Opas. We visit them in their rooms, go on walks through the corridors or in the sunshine of the garden, we share the afternoon “Kaffee and Küchen”, and most of all we listen, or sit and hold a soft, wrinkled hand without saying a word. In the times in between our regular apostolates and activities we are visiting Aberu, Nazli, and other friends and families with whom God has blessed us with friendship, going to concerts or exhibitions of some of our artistic friends, doing office work like setting up the association here in Vienna, answering emails, writing letters, trying to set up an apostolate at a prison, and then there are always the invitations to lunches or dinners, or inviting people to share a meal with us here, attending parish meetings and playing with the kids of the parish at the Sunday Pfarrcafe, playing in the park, going to piano recitals, babysitting, teaching English, etc. Lets just say, there is never a dull moment, and even in the time that seems empty or at least peaceful, it is the grace filled time to recuperate a little before the next whirlwind of beautiful meetings and miracles begin blowing our way! Ultimately it is not in what we are doing, but the beautiful friendships that run through all the meetings and events and jobs. It's not about doing, but being....being very deeply and wholly present no matter what the different situations and surroundings look like.
We have started holding “Nachtanbetung” or night adoration every month as an inspiration from our House Patron Fr. Hermann Cohen who had a special devotion to nocturnal adoration. Just yesterday we celebrated our second monthly adoration night starting with Mass at 9:30, followed by silent, candlelit adoration in the beautiful Karmeliterkirche until 2 am. Our goal is to get enough people involved in order to make it through the night by changing every hour! It is a beautiful time to come together for mediation and prayer and simply to be
alone with Christ at the end of the hustle of the day and we are happy to see how God will use it to work in our friend’s lives, as well as our own.
“...to suffer with the other and for others; to suffer for the sake of truth and justice; to suffer out of love and in order to become a person who truly loves – these are fundamental elements of humanity, and to abandon them would destroy man himself.” |
“Spe Salvi” Encyclical of Pope Benedict XVI
On Friday evening we have our weekly “Gemeinschaft Schule” (or School of Community) when we as a community, joined by interested friends, come together to discuss a text that we have been reading throughout the week. Reading it several times over you take the time to reflect on the text, the author, the message, but most of all how we encounter truth in the text through the experiences of daily life. Ultimately it is about sharing life—with one another, and even deeper within yourself. Uncovering things that you didn’t realize or take the time to see. It is about going deeper into life with your community and friends, and through your relationships with one another, the discussions, the questions, the searching, finding a deeper sense, deeper truth, deeper beauty in your life.
The decision on which text we would read to start this year off (Spe Salvis – the encyclical of Pope Benedict XVI, quoted above) was rather spontaneous—Alina, Fr. Jacques and I, accompanied by our friend Klaudia, were sitting in the living room discussing “Hope” over a tea. It was a fascinating discussion during which Fr. Jacques said something that especially caught my attention: There is a radical difference between Hope and Optimism and the two should not be confused. In fact, they are radically different. Hope doesn’t promise change. It does not promise relief or joy in the future, as if it alleviates the weight to be carried. It doesn’t promise that everything will get better soon or tomorrow. It is not a frantic, exasperated panting for something different, but a simple delight in today and an “awaiting” for the fullness of happiness and perfection that we are meant for in eternity. It promises that there is meaning, there is fullness, there is someone there with you. Hope is knowing, He never leaves me, and thus I can keep on living a beautiful life no matter the situation. Optimism, on the other hand, suffers under the weight of what it carries and thus tries to ignore, push aside, or wrap itself in illusion. Optimism laughs and smiles as a façade while underneath it gasps for breath waiting for it all to pass, cursing the weight as it carries it and looking forward to the future in order to escape the present. Hopes doesn’t escape. Hope lives in truth and embraces reality with a smile of deep peace. Hope remains when things do not make sense—when there is no feeling, or understanding to carry you. It is like Wings. Like Air. Like Breath. It is the Weight of Nothingness. It is the whisper, “Just don’t leave me alone and all will be bearable.” It is not about a solution or something changing. Looking forward to change is optimism. Hope is light, companionship, relief. It is the moment you realize you can continue on when you thought you couldn’t. It is what allows you to continue living IN THAT MOMENT. Not just to get to the next moment, but to live the current moment in all its fury and discord, deeply and fully.
This text has met me right where I have been over the past few months. I have been meeting, it seems, challenge after challenge, both personal and communal, and it seems like I can just do enough to get from one day to the next. It is amazing to see how reading this text over the past month has helped reshape my attitude and my heart and truly life enlightened by hope. Especially concerning one aspect of life here have I needed this little boost and enlightenment: I live in the dread of still not having my residence permit and now that my four month emergency visa has expired and I am still waiting for the government to make a decision, I find myself in the same place I was back in March—I have 16 days left to be legally in Austria. I ask you especially to pray for me at this time that I can live every moment and walk on this path with every step enlightened by hope in God and His will for what comes next.
APARTMENT AND ARRIVAL
The kitchen I mentioned in my last letter is still, four months later, almost fully installed! Step by step, through the faithful help and sponsorship of friends here we have been slowly piecing together the donations we have received into a wonderful, workable, pretty darn good looking kitchen. All the while, working together with friends helped us grow closer together and share wonderful, sometimes hysterical, sometimes deep moments. Like always, there has been patience to be learned along the way—I mean, come on, it has taken us four months and we still have tools and drills stacked in our kitchen corner. Something Renee helped me see through a conversation one afternoon was that the building of the kitchen, or, in fact, all the renovations are like building a puzzle. The process, the putting in place of every piece is what is to be enjoyed—no matter how long it takes to complete it.
The joy is not in enjoying the goal or the finished project; it is the process—the people who helped, the moments shared, the little victories, the thanksgiving for help and company. You don’t put a puzzle together to enjoy the finished project—you put it together to take it apart and put it right back in the box...and its still not a waste! What is achieved cannot be enjoyed as much as every moment in between. Along the way I’ve also learned the ability to simply throw up my hands, laugh, and enjoy those moments—like when Alina and I used the dishwasher that we have received for the first time, but put in the wrong dishwashing detergent and ended up with a dishwasher overflowing with suds!!
The kitchen isn’t the only thing that has changed in the past couple of months! In October Father Jacques departed again for another month of traveling (visits to the houses in France and in Berlin), and Alina and I busied ourselves with making a few more advancements in the apartment in preparation for the arrival of our two newest community members! We cleared out the chapel and made it for the first time just that, a chapel, right before Father Clemens and Mathilde arrived from France. We have been living in community together for three weeks and I cannot tell you the joy with which my heart is filled as I think of how our lives are now. The past 10 months have been beautiful, challenging, life changing, and I wouldn’t have them any other way—but this new step, this new sense of community, the new lives and spirits with which we are joined have added such a new and deeper dimension to our lives in Vienna. I will tell you more about it all in my next letter—when I’ve had time to get to know my new sister and brother in community and let all the new changes sink in!
As always we remain close in our support and prayers for one another!
Pax, Marylouise
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My Mission : Letter #2
“I believe more and more that we have not been created merely to achieve our own personal spiritual perfection. Neither have we been called to organize efficient, well-run communities. Our role is to prepare the ground and to sow the seed…The whole world is crying out to us. Faith is dying, the spark of love is fading, because there are not enough warm hearths of welcoming love in the world…I am sure that we must open wide our hearts and souls and the doors of our houses.” – Little Sister Magdeleine of Jesus –
Dear Family and Friends,
I write you as I sit in the garden at the house of my dear friend Agnes under the warm, summer sunshine. In fact, I have been enjoying the warmth of summer in the city since I returned in April! What a surprise it was to leave the cold and rainy season of New York to return to a green and blooming Vienna. During my time in America, Alina and Fr. Jacques were busy at work both in the apartment and in the growth of our mission here. Many new friendships were made for me to be introduced to, many friendships continued for me to catch up on, the living room renovations finished and ready to be enjoyed, and the renovations in the chapel already begun for me to join in and help finish. But first, Easter had to be celebrated! It was a glorious Easter weekend full of prayer, stations of the cross through the city center, many masses in the Cathedral with the Cardinal, time with friends, time back together as a community, and an epic Easter feast. We were invited to celebrate East er on the roof of the apartment building of some of our student friends. It was the first time in my life I experienced a traditional, Italian festive meal, meaning: a 5-hour meal, which was preceded by 3 hours of preparation (what fun to do it all together!) and followed by an hour or so of clean-up. (if you want to see pictures, check out my blog at http://byloveisail.blogspot.
As soon as Easter was well-celebrated and at a close, we set to work finishing the chapel and preparing for the first visit of Fr. Thierry, the founder of Heart’s Home. For five days in May we had the pleasure of hosting Fr. Thierry, introducing him to our friends, showing him around Vienna, giving him a taste of the art and culture of the city through the aid of several museums and a orchestra concert, and, of course, time to pray together and talk as a community about these first five months of life here in Vienna.
I especially want to highlight several monumental occasions from Fr. Thierry’s visit. On May 10th , Fr. Thierry, Fr. Jacques, Fr. Krawczyk (the parish priest), and Fr. Josef (a priest from the Communion & Liberation community with whom we have become good friends) together celebrated our inaugural mass in Karmeliterkirche—I guess you can say this baby was baptized!
It was a beautiful occasion and as I looked back from the first pew I was completely overwhelmed at how many people I saw, the love that was represented in their presence, the miracles of friendship God has already forged for and through us in Vienna. One of our friends counted during the mass—there was somewhere around 80 people there, and all of them so dear and so important in the young life of Heart’s Home in Vienna. After the mass we had a gathering with food and drink and time together, the highlight of which was a talk by Fr. Thierry in which he told the story of Heart’s Home—from the very beginning in Argentina and Brazil, to this new beginning in Vienna. So many of our friends commented afterwards on how touched they were by the presentation, and how delighted they were to better understand the history of Heart’s Home, why we are in Vienna and the story of the greater family to which we belong. My heart was bursting with thanksgiving as I stood in t he back of the packed church hall, listening to Fr. Thierry, and looking around at the faces of our friends from all different countries, all different walks of life, all here together even though most of them didn’t know each other, united because of the friendships we share and their desire to support us at our official opening. What struck me even more was the fact that beyond the already overwhelming number of miracles of friendship present before my eyes, there were still so more in my heart—all our sponsors and friends (YOU!) who were not able to be there with us, but were surely united to us in spirit. The large room was suddenly too small to fit all the people who are a part of the family of this home.
On Thursday of that same week, we had the honor of a visit from Cardinal Schönborn in our apartment. It was a short fifteen minutes, but our life is all about the little things which in their littleness are actually the greatest and most profound. To receive the Cardinal’s blessing for our community, our lives, our mission, our house—was an unbelievable reality and a milestone that only prompted us to continue on more enthusiastically in grace and love.
The day Fr. Thierry left, we had a community meeting to talk about what exactly that enthusiastic continuation would consist of, what we have already experienced and become involved in here, and how we are feeling called by God to best serve the people in Vienna where the poverty and need does not cry out for help, but rather hides itself in shame, complacency, and/or superficial satisfaction. There was one moment alone that struck me during our conversation and which I find to be the true question of our lives and our service in Vienna, something I find even hard to answer, thus compelling me everyday to open my eyes, ears, and heart wider as I wonder around this city. Laying all practical discussions and planning aside, Fr. Thierry simply laid this statement and question before us: “Shortly before His death, Jesus climbed the Mount of Olives and looking over Jerusalem, He wept. When you look out on Vienna, and when you think about this city, what moves you to weep ing?” Christ was moved to passionately cry out and weep at the city before Him because He knew that they did not know Him, that they would reject Him and His teaching, and the salvation He would die to give them. They had no desire for Him and thus passionate sorrow wrenched His Sacred Heart. A moving image. A challenging question. I have so much more to learn, so much further to be guided in order to begin to answer the question...
“Immerse yourself deeply among people by sharing their life, by friendship and by love. Give yourself to them completely, like Jesus who came to serve and not to be served; you, too, become one with them. Then you will be like leaven which must lose itself in the dough to make it rise.” – Little Sister Magdeleine of Jesus –
Speaking of tears, it’s about time I introduce you to Aberu whose tears are not the seizing, crying out loud kind, but the silent, graceful tears of hope despite pain, and the enduring strength of love. Aberu is a beautiful Eritrian mother of four adorable and feisty young boys—Nahum (10 yrs.), Lukas (7 yrs.), Abaneezar (5 yrs.), and Alexander (2 yrs.). We met her and the boys back in January through our friend Krista, the woman for whom Alina used to babysit. One Saturday afternoon, we accompanied Krista and her kids to Aberu’s apartment in the 11th district. At first, Krista, Alina, Aberu, and I sat in the living room drinking coffee and getting to know one another as the kids all played in the boys’ room, but that didn’t last long for we soon joined them in their playing, as well as their laughter and joy. Not even the mother’s were excluded from animal charades (a little difficult for me in German!), German hand games, and a new American game for them—“Duck, Duck, Goose”—although I learned later that we were really saying “Chicken, Chicken, Dog”, and had to correct ourselves To see Aberu act out the part of a frog in animal charades, or to watch Krista chase her daughter around the circle of other children was hilarious! It really taught me how wrapped up in being older and responsible and ‘adultlike’ we can get and thus forget that it is even possible to get on the ground and play these games with children. It was so touching to see these mothers taking such delight in really being WITH their kids, playing WITH their kids rather than always sitting on the sidelines and playing the part of the policeman or peacekeeper (which I admit is sometimes still necessary!). Aberu is a beautiful woman and it was so touching to see her relaxing, watching, laughing, and being present as a mother who for a minute had no cares in the world except the delight of her children and this afternoon of making new friends. For her, it was not an escape; she did not say, “Ok kids, go in the other room and play while the grown-ups have a chance to talk and rest.” Maybe the games were food for the children’s souls, but the playing and laughing with the children and being drowned in their joy was as much nourishment for our souls, especially Aberu’s.
On our way home from that day, Krista explained to us Aberu’s background and her situation here in Vienna and with her husband. Knowing this helped us better understand Aberu and desire to be more present to her, but it was nothing compared to the moment of our third or fourth afternoon visit to her that we shared a quiet moment (rare in her house!) over coffee, discussing life, and she opened up to us about her living situation, her relationship with her husband, and her job situation in the midst of graceful tears—made graceful through the humble strength of her heart and desire to be a beautiful example to her four little boys. It takes trust to share what she shared, to shed tears and share those with us as well—the kind of trust that goes hand in hand with genuine friendship.
I receive glimpses into this friendship as well when she calls me and asks me to come over on the boy’s day-off of school to go to the park with them or to take Abaneezar to the doctor because she has a meeting with the state to receive the money she needs to get by for the month (the meeting which is decided by the state and she cannot miss). But in doing these things, in being there to help her or simply give her some time to get things done without the boys running wild, she always makes sure we have time to be together and to talk to—something I see is important for her. When we are playing in the park with the kids, she always asks me to go for a walk just with her and sit and talk with her so she can share things that she cannot talk about in front of the boys and about which she really has no one else to talk to. She is a beautiful mother who everyday teaches me more about motherhood—what it means to be consistent with raising your kids in rules and reprimand s, but also being able to laugh and surreneder to things out of your control; how to teach your children respect for others, especially guests; what it means to sacrifice when you are up all night with one sick child, and have no time to rest the next day because you have three other energetic boys to feed, play soccer with, listen to, love.
Since Aberu knows that we are here on mission, our mission involving exactly what we do when we visit her and sit and talk with her, there is sometimes the question in the back of my mind—does she think about the fact that we are doing this as our ‘mission’, does she feel as though she is a charity case to which we are obligated? These questions were actually posed to me last week when I was explaining our mission here and using our friendship with Aberu as an example. Yet, the last afternoon I spent with Aberu, she answered this question for me. We were on the playground, taking a break from playing soccer with the boys when another mother brought her son over to play with us. Casual conversation led to her asking how Aberu and I knew one another and why I was there—me a young girl from America and her a mother of four from Eritria. Aberu looked at me, looked at the woman, and simply said: “She’s my friend. That’s what friends do.” It was exactly the answ er in my heart as well—I wasn’t compelled to explain myself as a volunteer, the mission of Heart’s Home, and why Krista introduced us to Aberu—I was there simply because I was visiting my friend, sharing her life, enjoying time with her kids.
Monika called us on the Saturday after Fr. Thierry’s visit to ask if we wanted to go to the hospital with her—one of her favorite students in the school where she works was in the hospital with a severe middle ear infection, and Monika was going to visit her that afternoon. I accompanied her to the hospital and, for the first time, had the pleasure of meeting Jacqui, an eleven-year-old orphan with down syndrome (the result of her mother’s addiction to drugs during pregnancy) who is the dearest, sassiest, most affectionate prankster I have ever met! Of course, as it always goes with children, it takes them a while to warm up, and usually with Austrian children you can only expect after the second or third visit that they trust you enough to open up to you and play with you as a friend—Jacqui being the delightful exception to the rule. From the first instant her love for and trust in Monika was apparent and probably a huge reason why already in the first hour af ter meeting her she gave me a thumbs-up (meaning we’re friends). Of course, my experience with handicapped children is almost non-existent, so I was constantly questioning whether I needed to act in a certain way or be weary of certain things. Yet, my questions were soon quelled when being with Jacqui, taking her down to the lobby to get iced tea (her favorite), playing hide and go seek, having tickle wars, and simply sitting on her bed coloring revealed to me nothing more and nothing less than her profound humanity, her simple child-ness—she’s just like any other child, and yet still more special. She loves to play around with you. She’ll call you an “Opa” or “Oma”, “baby”, or “monkey” just to get a reaction from you, and then laugh at her own “joke” and hug you or show you one of her heart-melting smiles. I went with Monika to visit her both on Saturday and Sunday, and then I went alone on Monday because Monika and the other teachers were o f course at work in the school, and Jacqui was left with no one to visit her. It was as if we were old friends—we played, drank iced tea, colored, and she told me all about how excited she was to go home that day, to see her friends at the children’s home, and especially to go back to school! She had been wearing the same thing for the past three days, so I helped her change into something new to wear home and she brushed her teeth. Before I left the visit the nurses came to take out her I.V. and take off the bandage that she had been complaining about all day. Two nurses came in accompanied by a doctor, and just like I had always experienced, they made sure they explained everything they were doing before and while doing it so that Jacqui wouldn’t be scared. But then, just as they were getting ready to remove the bandage and I.V., Jacqui pushed the nurse aside that was standing between her and I, and held out her hand to me with pleading eyes. Just as I had reach ed out for my mother’s hand when I was little, Jacqui reached out for mine and pulled me up to the bed next to her so that she could take my hand in hers and squeeze away the pain or fear she was experiencing. Looking at her face, it was as if the world was calm and peaceful; she let out no wimper and cried no tears, but my hand alone knew that she felt pain, and that she needed someone to be there with her, someone she could share the pain with so it wasn’t too scary or painful for her to manage alone. Isn’t that why humans cling to others, reach out for another’s hand in times of fear, in times of pain—to know that they are not alone, to render more bearable whatever they are experiencing simply by physically feeling another’s presence. It was very simple, very human—just like any little girl, she reached out for my hand and I held hers in mine.
These three days of getting to know and growing fond of Jacqui were beautiful in themselves, but have also lead into another blessed opportunity. Just yesterday I had a meeting at the children’s home where she lives. It is about an hour away, but still in Vienna in the “mountains” on the northwest edge of the city. I met with one of the women in charge of the children’s home, and also with the head of the house community in which Jacqui lives. Of course, everything takes a lot of time and must always come with official documentation and stacks of paperwork, but yesterday we made the first step in forming a relationship with the children’s home which will hopefully lead into it becoming a regular place of apostolate—going there once a week or once every two weeks, especially to visit Jacqui, but also to play with the other kids, come to birthdays and celebrations, help on fieldtrips, etc. I couldn’t be more excited for the yet unknown in store for us with thi s children’s home. It is simply amazing how God works and opens doors through the littlest of encounters, the littlest of hearts.
By now you are all eagerly awaiting summer vacation from work or are well into school’s summer break. And so it is here in Vienna as well; it seems as if every Wiener (Viennese person) flees to vacation for the month of July and droves of international tourists fill in their places. There is no doubt that I sorely miss the cool breeze of the lake at home, that familiar feeling of Manitowish Waters and being with family, the freedom of the summer days, the rush of summer work, the energy of summer nights, but I couldn’t be more thankful for Vienna, the friends we have here, the myriad beautiful experiences we have been blessed to live and that I know are yet to come. I am currently holding down the fort in Vienna while Fr. Jacques is in France bringing to a close his time of leadership in the house there, celebrating ordinations of two new priests in Heart’s Home, and celebrating a few weddings for friends as well. On July 24th he wi ll return with a full suitcase ready to officially call Vienna’s Heart’s Home his newest “Heimat” (home). Alina is currently in Italy and will return on July 22nd following a rather stressful month of final exit exams from her high school. She has spent this last year doing distance learning and must now be in Italy to complete the exams, upon which depend whether or not she can graduate and continue on to University. She is very bright and has worked so hard, so I know she will pass with flying colors, but as always keep her in your prayers! This month I’ll be working on the kitchen in the apartment (we just received a donation of new kitchen cabinets, sink, stove, refrigerator, and dishwashing machine…unbelievable!), preparing a presentation to give at a Catholic youth festival in Southern Austria (we’re hoping to attract more volunteers to do Heart’s Home), and most importantly continuing to share the simple and beautiful moments of daily life in the friendships we have here. It is a beautiful thing to realize that even when I am physically alone, I am never actually alone for God has given us so many friendships here, and as always we as a community remain united every second in our prayers and thoughts for one another!
And just to top all of this off, I have a special intention for you all to pray for! We have just received word that in October we will be welcoming two new additions to the community here in Vienna: Fr. Clement—a “fresh” French priest who was just ordained two days ago!—and Matilde—a volunteer with Heart’s Home who recently finished a two year mission in India and will be coming here to do her second mission with Heart’s Home and discern becoming a permanent, consecrated member with the community. I can’t believe it is already time for this little family to grow!
I wish you a wonderful summer and remind you to keep updated on Viennese life even more by following my blog (" http://byloveisail.blogspot.
Bis bald,
Marylouise
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My Mission : Letter #1
“It is lovely if a person wants to give to God all that he has. But at the beginning of a Christian mission, it must be clear that the All of a human is no standard for God’s All and that therefore the first, creaturely All needs an expansion through grace in order to be able to receive the All of God’s mission. And this More must be expressly included in the person’s surrender.” – Adrienne von Speyr
Dearest companions on this journey – Grüß Gott!
Overwhelming. I think that is the most adequate way to describe them—all the stories and experiences I want to share with you, all the graces and miracles the Lord has given me, all the thankfulness I have for your sustaining prayers and support—I am overwhelmed. I am deeply sorry that it has taken me four months to write you a letter. I haven’t been keeping up my end of the deal, and I know you have been keeping up yours. I can feel it. Everyday I thank God for the grace of having you by my side in prayer. Especially at times when things can be exhausting, exasperating, or at least inconvenient, I am humbled by the realization that my perseverance is not due to an extraordinary, personal selflessness, stubborn self-determination, or God-given virtue. Through our communion in thought and prayer, you are my encouragement to depend on God, reminding me why I am on this journey, helping me not to lose sight of the larger goal, or the importance of every detail.
My experience thus far has been none other than a return to infancy. It is appropriate that the birth of our mission coincided with the birth of Christ, for how did Christ change the world? He was born. He came to be with us, to be the most humble teacher of obedience, simplicity, poverty, surrender, and how perfect love cannot exist without first a childlike soul. I had ambition, a college degree, and what I thought to be inexhaustible love welling up in my heart when I arrived in Vienna on December 14th. Yet I soon found that all the strength and wealth I thought I had to give through this mission of presence was naught—I was a poor infant whom couldn’t speak or express myself, had to be carried through unknown streets and ways of life, and relinquish control of the details of daily life to God whose fatherhood I was discovering for the first time. And my greatest poverty—my trust wasn’t steadfast enough and my heart wasn’t bi g enough. I had to learn everything anew and be expanded, stretched, and molded by God’s grace. In stretching and expanding me, He is trying to make room for His immense love and presence that my heart is currently too closed, too small, too weak, to full with other things to accept the fullness of His gifts. In this way, the poverty I have experienced has been my greatest treasure. Every person and event has become a mother, father, teacher, and guide which God has picked to help raise me in a life of love.
Meine Mutti und Schwester | Learning the Basics
“Mary is no longer alone with her destiny, but consoled and secure in the knowledge of her cousin’s similar fate. The angel reveals this related destiny to her so that she can give her life with more certainty, for no person can bear a divine mission wholly alone, to even the most solitary, a thou is given within his mission.”Adrienne von Speyr
The first two members of my new family are the women with whom I share the Heart’s Home mission in Vienna.
Monika, now affectionately referred to as Mutti, is a native Austrian and a former Heart’s Home volunteer in Naples, Italy. She now lives in Vienna, works as a teacher in a handicapped children’s school, and continually lives the charism of Heart’s Home in her daily prayer and social life, despite no longer being an official volunteer. Because we couldn’t move into the official Heart’s Home apartment for the first two and a half months, Monika took Alina and I in, introduced us to Austrian life and helped us plant Heart’s Home’s roots in Vienna. Not only has she effectively taught me to speak and think in German (it is a miracle, but yes I can both understand and be understood the majority of the time), to navigate Viennese streets and way of life, and to not set her kitchen afire when cooking or baking—but most of all she has taught me what it means to live a daily life of unconditional, selfless love and service and how life is an adventure of dari ng trust. The day we moved into the Heart’s Home and left the shadow of our Mutti’s wings was a difficult day, but the love that has been rooted in our souls and grown so strong in a mere three months together doesn’t allow us to be apart for very long—let’s just say, once a Mutti, always a Mutti.
Alina is my sister, roommate, and constant companion in this journey. She is Ukranian, but has been living in Italy for the past four years where she discovered Heart’s Home, a deeper relationship with God and the Catholic Church, and a desire to do mission work—specifically to start a home in Vienna. I am astonished everyday by how the Lord has handpicked us for one another and for this mission. She has been a living example of how to be present with others and to put their needs first, to step out of your comfort zone to meet someone knew or deepen your relationship, how to be available at all times, how to humble advise and ask for forgiveness, how to be faithful in prayer.
Without the lessons and examples of the lives of these two women, this foundation would not be possible, my faith would not be as perseverant, my heart not free to expand as God desires.
Without the lessons and examples of the lives of these two women, this foundation would not be possible, my faith would not be as perseverant, my heart not free to expand as God desires.
- Father Jacques, Monika and Alina
Ceyla | The Importance of Little Things
“Lord of all the pots and pans, since I’ve no time to be a great saint by doing lovely things, or watching late with you, or dreaming in the dawnlight, or storming heaven’s gates, make me a saint by getting meals, and washing up the plates.” –St. Teresa of Avila
As I said, Alina and I were living with Monika for the first two and a half months because of many unforeseen delays with the apartment we have been given a discount on by the Archdiocese. While the wait was a beautiful growing period both inwardly and in relationship with one another, we were so excited when the last day in February arrived and we moved into our new home. The first month in Vienna we awaited the lease papers to sign and the key to take.
Upon retrieving the key, we were given a little hope by the parish priest in charge of the building (yes, the Archdiocese is our landlord) that the Archdiocese would cover the costs of repairs to the kitchen and bathroom. Sighing relief, we left those two rooms relatively alone and, for the next month and a half, set to work cleaning every surface in the apartment from the soot left behind from years of a poorly ventilated, wood-burning stove. After a month and a half, the cleaning was nearly finished and we were beginning the repairs and cleaning of the walls necessary before we could paint. Then came the news that the Archdiocese decided to replace the apartment’s entire, dangerously outdated electrical system. Facing the high price of this job, the parish priest decided that he would not spend any more money on our apartment considering the discount in rent we were receiving. So currently we are facing some renovations in the kitchen and bathroom as well as cleaning u p the mess the electricians left behind. But, I say all this with a smile because I simply cannot complain.
Why? Because all of these inconveniences are outweighed by joy and thankfulness for another friend who offers to spend a Saturday helping us paint, another who comes over unannounced with full sets of silverware and glassware to donate, and another who tells us where we can find an entire free kitchen (the old Austrian apartments don’t come with kitchen cabinets, counters, and appliances included). I am thankful also because it seems as if the time we have spent cleaning, re-cleaning, scrubbing, painting, the Lord is doing the same work on my soul. He is scrubbing, sweeping, mopping the floors, washing and repainting the walls, refurbishing the appliances and redecorating the rooms of my soul so as to make the dwelling fit for His presence. In this way more than anything I have been learning patience and perseverance, because it is through experiencing the need for the two that He fills me with faith in Him, a faith with the color of passion and the permeating fragrance of peace. Most of all, I am thankful for this time of cleaning and renovating because of the manner in which it has illuminated my vision of the world in front of me, my relationships with the people before me.
Let me introduce you to Ceyla. He works for Erste Bank and is one of those responsible for the Archdiocese’s accounts. Thus, he came over one afternoon with a serviceman to turn on our gas (hot water and heat, yay!) and to look over the apartment to assess what work needed to be done. Two men accumulated into five, and turning our gas on turned into an hour and a half of coffee, cake, and conversation. (Important Cultural Note: If you want to live like the Austrians, never dare to serve coffee without cake). In an hour and a half it was so clear that we had really begun a friendship with these men. They left with the most gracious goodbyes, telling us that they had never met such nice people, people who invite them to coffee and cake, people who are genuinely interested in them, as well as the work they do. They said they couldn’t wait to come again just to sit and have coffee with such nice people—we just thought they were being nice.
It was only two days later that Alina received a call from Ceyla asking if our water was still working okay, but his second question was really the reason behind his call—“When can I come over for coffee and cake again?” The next week we picked an afternoon and Ceyla came over for coffee and cake in between meetings—his planner full to overflowing with appointments, phone ringing every 15 minutes—and ended up staying for two and a half hours! He cancelled two appointments just to stay and talk. He completely led the conversation and we learned about his life and how he, coming from Kazakhstan and starting from nothing, made himself into a successful businessman in Austria. We talked about his kids, his wife, his views on marriage and family life, but the main topics he kept coming back to were God, religion, and morality. It was as if he was just thirsting for someone to pose his questions to, address his thoughts and theories to—and until meeting us, h e had never encountered anyone who would set aside time in their busy schedules just to be with him, talk with him, have coffee and cake with him. Yes, to our Western, efficient culture, taking a two and a half hour break in your workday to visit with friends may seem imprudent, but that’s exactly why it made such an impression on me. Who are we that this successful banker would want to spend a busy, workday afternoon sitting at our kitchen table, rescheduling meetings, drinking instant coffee, and sharing life stories. After he left, Alina and I sat dumbfounded at what had just transpired. It was only a simple invitation to coffee directed at the strangers fixing our hot water; yet, how easily it had become a budding friendship with a man hungering for time and presence.
In fact, he had already penned Fr. Jacques and the two of us into his planner for a dinner the following week—his treat. It makes me think—this is more than missionary work. It is about a different way of looking, a different way of experiencing reality—with a look of compassion, with a heart open and available—a life that can be lived everywhere, in every situation. In America, I would never have thought of such a little thing—to ask the men working on my hot water if they would like anything to drink. Now, I cannot imagine otherwise. You don’t necessarily have to sit with them for hours, but simply offering this person a glass of water, a tea, or a coffee while they work can instantly allow them to be a person who is helping you, rather than a service commodity you paid for. I urge you to give it a try—ask your plumber/cable guy/accountant/landlord if he would like a cup of coffee. You never know if there is a deeper thirst for compassion just waiting for a n invitation.
Sidonia | Compassionate Hands
“To follow God means that we discover day after day our own poverty. ---We do not feed well our neighbor except if we have ourselves known hunger. We cannot well console the one who is suffering, except if we have ourselves accepted tenderness.” –Rev. Thierry de Roucy
Much like the spontaneity of the coffee invitation, we were walking down the street one afternoon when Alina told me that we were going to stop and speak to the woman begging a few steps in front of us. “We pass her by and smile at her almost everyday—I want to know her name,” she said. So we did—we sat right down next to her, introduced ourselves, and from that day on there wasn’t a week that went by that we didn’t greet Sidonia—a Romanian mother of three boys who could not get work in Romania so she came to Vienna to beg everyday so she can feed her three boys, and hopefully have some leftover money to buy medicine for her youngest son who has been sick for two months. If we are not hurrying because we are late to mass, we always sit down with her, exchange the usual European embrace (double cheek kiss) and attempt to communicate. She cannot really speak much German, and I cannot speak Romanian, so we get by with mixes of languages, hand gestures, a nd even drawing pictures. Over two months she is no longer a woman on the street we were reaching out to—this strong and beautiful woman is my friend.
While our lives have been filled with so many beautiful, miraculous friendships and encounters, it was Sidonia who gave me my first lesson in compassion. On the 4th of March, I had a meeting in the Magistrat because I had not received word about my residence permit and my tourist visa was almost expired. The outcome: I had to leave Austria in a week—no questions, excuses, or other options. My residence permit had not been granted in the time they had advised because I had given the wrong application to fill out and they still needed a few documents to complete my application, which I hadn’t even been told I needed. Needless to say I was beyond frustrated and, to my embarrassment, couldn’t hold back my tears.
Returning from the Magistrat I did not want to go back to an empty apartment (Alina was out babysitting for a friend) and there was only one smile I wanted to see—Sidonia’s. I sat down next to her, gave her a kiss on each cheek and unfortunately left a trace of tears where my cheek brushed against hers. Her eyes did all the asking…”Why are you crying?” I pretended it was the wind and asked her how her day had been. She immediately began to tell me how she will be forced to return to Romania on the 28th of March and cannot come back for another 3 months. I was astounded—we were both in the same situation. She proceeded to tell me about her life in Romania, the husband who left her for another woman, the jobless reality she was about to face. Sorrow for her flooded my heart and eyes, but she smiled and shook her head to tell me not to worry. She didn’t cry—she wasn’t moved to tears by her fear, her situation, her bli ndness to what the future would entail. I reached out to hold her hand. Then I told her that I must go away too. That I had to go back to the U.S. for another three months as well, and being not as strong as her, tears filled my eyes as I sat there on the side of the street holding the hand of the only friend in Vienna I could talk to. She squeezed my hand, and then took both of her hands around my face and kissed my forehead and hugged me. She reassured me that everything would be fine. I smiled and said yes, and pointed up to the sky. We sat in silence, and then I had to go to meet Alina at the apartment. Sidonia kissed me goodbye and simply said—“Ich bin deine mutter, bruder, familie…ja. Ich vergesse dich nicht.” (I am your mother, brother, family…you know. I won’t forget you). We are friends. We are family. And as oddly beautiful as it is, she was the one consoling me in a sadness we shared. She was the strong one. She was teaching me what it meant to trust, to love, to be compassionate.
Bernhard | A Trust that Works Miracles
“Prayer makes miracles alive, even in modern days.” –Mother Teresa
And yes, to answer the questions I’m sure you’re bursting with—I am writing you this letter from the Brooklyn Heart’s Home. I did in fact have only one sleepless, stressful, sad week to figure out my options, coordinate paperwork and meetings, pack my things, and catch a flight, not knowing when I would be coming back to Vienna, but knowing I would for sure be returning. How could I be so sure? My trust was being tested so much, tests I was failing miserably, but God is so good to me and even in the worst situations he provides such evidence of His power and providence.
Let me explain. Two days before I left, I received three text messages from three different, unassociated people, all with the same simple message—the quote I wrote above from Mother Teresa. This was also the day that I booked my flight—a roundtrip ticket giving me a month to resolve all the issues. More than likely a month wouldn’t be enough, but I was praying that God would let me return to Austria in time to celebrate Easter. Ticket bought I leaned back on the couch, closed my eyes and said, “Ok, God, its in your hands now. If you want me to return to Austria, you have to make this happen because I am completely powerless.”Twenty minutes later at 11:00 pm, I was heading out the door to adoration (I figured God was trying to tell me to pray if three people had sent me the same quote that day) when I received a call from Monika. She had just spoken to one of our dearest Viennese friends—Bernhard—who was currently in Rome on a retreat, but upon hea ring from Monika what happened, immediately telephoned his friend in Austria—a rather high level official in the Austrian government—who volunteered to personally look at my case and do whatever he could for me the following morning. Bernhard reassured Monika, “If he cannot do anything to allow her to stay beyond her visa, no one can.”
Let me explain. Two days before I left, I received three text messages from three different, unassociated people, all with the same simple message—the quote I wrote above from Mother Teresa. This was also the day that I booked my flight—a roundtrip ticket giving me a month to resolve all the issues. More than likely a month wouldn’t be enough, but I was praying that God would let me return to Austria in time to celebrate Easter. Ticket bought I leaned back on the couch, closed my eyes and said, “Ok, God, its in your hands now. If you want me to return to Austria, you have to make this happen because I am completely powerless.”Twenty minutes later at 11:00 pm, I was heading out the door to adoration (I figured God was trying to tell me to pray if three people had sent me the same quote that day) when I received a call from Monika. She had just spoken to one of our dearest Viennese friends—Bernhard—who was currently in Rome on a retreat, but upon hea ring from Monika what happened, immediately telephoned his friend in Austria—a rather high level official in the Austrian government—who volunteered to personally look at my case and do whatever he could for me the following morning. Bernhard reassured Monika, “If he cannot do anything to allow her to stay beyond her visa, no one can.”
It turned out that with only one day before I had to leave the country this man did not have enough time to save me the trip to the U.S., but I didn’t return to the States empty handed. Instead, he contacted the consul himself in Chicago who then directly contacted me, allowed me to apply for a new 6-month visa (it is completely against visa regulations to have two visas back to back), waved the usual 100 euro charge, and made sure it was processed in a weeks time (it can take up to 3 months). God had made it happen—against all odds, completely miraculously, and rather expediently, I must say! I spent the first two weeks in Chicago collecting paperwork, have a surprise week-end visit from my parents, and waiting for everything to go through before I then traveled to Brooklyn to spend two and a half weeks continuing mission and community life here. I have come to discover that this time back in the states was a wonderful opportunity to retreat and reflect, to be tested, to ask questions and be able to stop long enough to listen for the answers, to examine the past three months and to see where I need to make some changes, to consciously and intentionally prepare myself to be a better instrument of God’s love when I return to Vienna. Tomorrow I will return to Chicago to collect my passport and arrive back in Vienna on the 21st of April, just in time to celebrate the Easter Triduum with all of the friends I miss so dearly, the city I have come to call home, and the life of self-less love and compassion I hope to learn to live better with every day.
Seeking to bring Christ to others simply by living His Presence in the midst of others, I look back and see how He has been guiding our lives much like He lived out His own. I started this journey as an infant in need of learning how to truly live —resting in the arms of my Heavenly Father, receiving everything He gives me, being wherever He takes me, listening to His heart beat and trying to make mine beat in time with His. Our childhood in Vienna has been full of experiences of family, friendship, daily successes, daily corrections, simple tasks done with love—including the cooking and the cleaning. Which is also the way I would assume Christ’s quiet childhood in Nazareth was—grace and veiled miracles in the simple tasks of living.
Lent, when we spiritually follow Christ into the desert to pray and sacrifice for 40 days, was rather literal for me. From the day I boarded the plane in Vienna to the day I will board the return plane in Chicago, 40 days will have passed. This Lent He took me with Him to pray, fast, and be tested. I am still a child with so much to learn, stretching and testing to undergo, worldly things to abandon. Yet, I look forward to celebrating the glory of His Resurrection, and the new life He will bring to Heart’s Home every day of the coming year, the work of the Holy Spirit that I will be able to share with you, so that you can echo Mary Magdelene when she exclaims to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord!”
Lent, when we spiritually follow Christ into the desert to pray and sacrifice for 40 days, was rather literal for me. From the day I boarded the plane in Vienna to the day I will board the return plane in Chicago, 40 days will have passed. This Lent He took me with Him to pray, fast, and be tested. I am still a child with so much to learn, stretching and testing to undergo, worldly things to abandon. Yet, I look forward to celebrating the glory of His Resurrection, and the new life He will bring to Heart’s Home every day of the coming year, the work of the Holy Spirit that I will be able to share with you, so that you can echo Mary Magdelene when she exclaims to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord!”
Bis bald,
Marylouise McGraw . 