Journal of Sacred Work

In this week’s beautiful tribute to his mother, Erie Chapman, asked,” from whom did you learn love?” On this Mother’s Day weekend three wonderful women come to my mind.

Faith: Vibrant, charismatic, lover of life and giver of joy; her name was Candida Maio but everyone knew her as Candi. Perhaps, it was because she was the mother of my best friend since childhood, or that she shared the same birthday as my mom, but no doubt it was because she loved me that I thought of her as mom.

Candi’s vivacious personality exuded warmth with a robust laugh that affirmed her love of life and of people. Anyone in Candi’s sphere was influenced by her positive energy. Yet, I will never forget the spiritual support she offered me in my teens. You see, I was faced an important decision and I struggled over a dilemma. I confided in Candi and she told me that whenever she needed guidance, she opened the bible to a random page and God answered. She suggested I might give it a try, I prayed earnestly, opened the book and to my amazement the answer was clear.

Hope: My mom in law, Helen Wessel learned to live with debilitating arthritis. She kept moving, working in her garden, helping my boys with homework and she was there for me as a working mom. Although, she used a walker to get around and some days walking were extremely painful, she lived a life of service. As a nurse in the navy during WWII, as a crossing guard for elementary school kids, bringing communion to shut-ins and as a loving grandmother.

Helen's favorite holiday was Easter. She’d bake a variety of homemade breads for all to enjoy and there was always room at the table for one more. It was 3 days after Easter that Helen died in 1997. This held a symbolic significance to me, “on the third day he arose again.” I loved and appreciated Helen but it was not until after she died that I realized she was Christ in my midst and like the disciples in the garden I had not recognized him.

Helen gave us bulbs from her garden to plant. Each spring splendid white and red-etched lilies blossom. As I delight in their beauty, I feel Helen’s spirit has come to bless us and to say, “I love you,” anew.

Love: When I was ten, I almost died. My mom called Dr. Cahill's office to report my symptoms; intense headache, malaise and unrelenting vomiting. Dr. Cahill came to our home to examine me and I was whisked away by ambulance to Misericordia Hospital.  I was diagnosed with spinal meningitis and for the first 3 days my life hung in the balance.

I did not know then, how my brush with death at such a tender age, would shape the course of my life.  My mom stayed by my side in my darkest hour to quell my fears and offer comfort. I remember her telling me, “I wish I could trade places with you.” Her loving presence in a time of suffering was a great solace.

Years passed before I fully understood my mother’s profound influence.  Although, I had no words for it, on a deeper level, I seemed guided to be with people at their end of life. As a young nurse I was scared and my first instinct was to turn and run, but I realized that this was when people need us the most. My mother taught me an unspoken covenant “I will not abandon you.”

As caregivers we are invited into people’s lives at very difficult times to bear witness to not only suffering but to tremendous love. People can call upon unfathomable reserves of inner strength, which manifest through the power of Love. 

Oh, you who were born of love…

As the wind loves to call things to dance,
May your gravity be lightened by grace.

Like the dignity of moonlight restoring the earth,
     May your thoughts incline with reverence and respect.

As silence smiles on the other side of what's said,
May your sense of irony bring perspective.

As time remains free of all that it frames,
May your mind stay clear of all it names.

May your prayer of listening deepen enough
to hear in the depths the laughter of God.”

 John O' Donohue

By Liz Sorensen Wessel
Photo Susan and Candi Maio, 2010
"Resurrection" mandala, in loving remembrance of Helen Wessel ~by Liz.
Mom's Mandala in loving remembrance of Elizabeth Sorensen ~by Liz