By Sr. Mary Gabriel
On Jan. 10, the fifth-graders at St. Teresa School in Lincoln went on a pilgrimage. With sketch books in hands and pink erasers in pockets, the students excitedly turned right onto J Street.
While walking at the head of the group, with Sister Mary Agnes acting as caboose, I was reminded of a line from Madeline, “Twelve little girls in two straight lines that left their house at half-past nine.” Only the two lines were made of 21 boys and girls, we left at quarter-past 10, and by the time we got to 38th Street, friend had found friend, and a girl who started our walk at the front of the line was happily talking with Sister Mary Agnes at the back.
They were a joyful group of fifth-graders, bracketed between two equally joyful Sisters. Behind me a group of boys talked about their favorite part of being an altar server, and their favorite football teams. The girls talked about their Confirmation saints, and how they hoped to spend their Christmas money. Their conversation flowed naturally, from the sacred to the secular, and back again.
Later that evening, I reflected on that 15-minute walk to Cristo Rey Church (our destination was the church’s magnificent nativity scene, which is worth seeing if you are ever in Lincoln during the Christmas season.) Woven between the ordinary child conversations and walk on a January day, there was something, a very slight something, of the supernatural. We were headed toward something beautiful, something holy, and there was a joyful holiness in our journey.
This short, joyful journey reminded me of my supernatural work as a School Sisters of Christ the King. Whether as administrators or teachers, all of the Sisters work to lead those around us to heaven. Sometimes we find ourselves at the front of the line with those students most eager to become saints. I am often humbled by the quick forgiveness of students and their eagerness to reach out in charity toward their classmates.
Sometimes we find ourselves toward the end of the line. Original sin and its tragic repercussions affect children as well as adults. It is a challenging and sacred role to stand at the foot of the cross when someone is suffering, whether they be 6 or 60 years old.
Most of the moments in the school day are fairly ordinary. Students practice their spelling words, write their paragraphs, and look for lost pencils. Yet woven between these ordinary moments is something of the supernatural. As a spouse of Christ the King, I serve as a reminder—whether I am aware of it or not—of our final destination, heaven.
Religious Sisters are sometimes called “spiritual mothers,” serving a beautiful complement to the priestly role of our spiritual fathers. One morning, as the students were coming into the classroom, a girl asked me to pray for her family. We both bowed our heads as I asked aloud for God’s help and protection. Right in the middle of attendance and lunch count was a step into the supernatural.
Someone once told me that the veil separating heaven and earth is not nearly as thick as we think it is. We are not only surrounded by a great “cloud of witnesses” but also invited into friendship with a God who knows us better than we know ourselves. A God, who walked the dusty streets of Nazareth, comes to us in a simple piece of bread, and joined a group of fifth-graders on a short walk to Cristo Rey Church.
