Yesterday was an unexpected revelation of 'gifts' for me. First of all, I was excited to be substituting again at the Catholic high school I have grown very fond of. Their spiritual theme for the year had focused on sharing stories. Coincidentally (or as a former graduate school classmate of mine once told me: 'God working in disguise'), I was sharing the 'ending' of their story in the celebration of the last school Mass of the year just as I had shared the 'beginning' of their story at the first one. But it was more than that. Back in September the teacher I accompanied to Mass was about to bring new life into the world and I would be substituting for her during her leave. Yesterday's Mass was dedicated to a teacher who had just passed away the night before. Alpha and Omega - a beginning of a journey on earth and an ending to an earthly pilgrimage celebrated in one school year through a breaking of the bread together. Yet it was still more than that. While I didn't know the deceased teacher very well, I realized that the brief encounters I did have with her at lunch or in the hall had a profound effect on me. If I had never known that she was battling cancer I probably wouldn't have guessed, such was her cheerful demeanor. I admired her healthy lunches that she patiently ate even though she might have been feeling ill. I admired her flamboyant and colorful clothing that drew attention to her and not to her thinning body. I cherished our brief encounters of conversation in the hallway during passing periods; compliments on one another's clothing or a supportive comment about teaching children. Most of all, I admired her courage in continuing to pursue a beloved profession even in the wake of profound suffering. Her motivating force? A deep faith in God and a deep love for the students in her care. This love was evident in the grief of both the students and the staff. How might I bring comfort should the need arise? What could I say after such a brief acquaintance? So I thought, "If one could take one thing from that teacher and keep it one's heart to honor her memory, what would it be? How would she like for us to 'know Him' through her?" What I didn't anticipate was that my own response would bring me comfort; it was that sacred bite of food, a moment of grace - Kay's gift of courage.
(Please see my next post, 'A Letter to Kay' for my tribute to her.)
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