As a young Catholic religious woman visiting families with books stuffed inside our bags was a daily mission for us. It was part of our three-fold mission given by our founder Blessed Fr James Alberione: Creative Stage (writing and editing), Technical Stage (printing and publishing) and Diffusion (distribution of the productions). We got initiated into all three stages by the time we made our first commitment.
Besides diffusing books from our centers, Fr Alberione encouraged us to undertake the family mission saying, “When people cannot come to us we will go to them in their homes.”
At any cost we ought to bring the Gospel message to the people.
Once I was on such a mission to families in Mumbai with a companion. We knocked at a door. We were rather frightened since we were young and inexperienced and had no idea who would open the door.
After a while the door opened and a middle aged woman stood before us with a broad smile. We could not but reciprocate her smile. She invited us to the living room and told us to make ourselves comfortable. She disappeared for a while and returned wiping her wet hands on her sari.
Obviously she was a happy woman. And she was in the kitchen, I concluded.
Why was she so excited, I was curious.
She sat with us. “I am cooking,” she began with joy. “My husband will come from the office for lunch. Before that by 11:30 he will call to ask to inquire about the menu.”
‘Wow. She is cooking some favorite dishes for her husband,’ I thought. Yet she was not at all upset at our intrusion.
That is real joy. Joy overflows to the others, whoever it is, from a heart filled with love.
I was learning my first lessons in religious life. To be joyful, no matter what the day may be, what it may present each moment. This woman was committed to her husband. And me to Christ. The joy of Christ must overflow through me, I decided.
Six years fast forward. I met another young woman with three little kids.
“Taste and tell me what it is,” she said handing me a glass of juice after I settled down on a chair in her house. I looked around. Her husband sat a little away smiling. I tasted the drink with much love and care, because I knew her hands prepared it with much love. But I could not guess it. She stood there smiling.
She was another woman of love committed to her spouse and family.
Once I met her in Trivandrum. She had come to meet her daughter doing first year dentistry. Her husband told me, behind her, “Last night she has not slept even for a while. She was cooking until 4 am and then we got ready and left the house to catch the train.” In fact they also brought a share of homemade delicacies for me.
She did not show any trace of tiredness or lethargy. She was as happy as ever. A mother’s sacrifice is covered in smiles, I concluded.
Years later I met another woman in a train. Learning that she was making fountains, I visited her at her house. A beautiful fountain, adorned with plants and light, stood at the corner of the sitting room, vibrating peace and serenity.
While I sat watching the flow of waters in the fountain she handed me a glass of drink. Topped with cream and having violet color all over it looked something new to me. We had come to trust each other so much that right away I began sipping it, at every sip, trying to guess what it was. I could not until she told me that it was banana shake. A marvelous drink, of course.
“Every day I prepare something new for my two children and husband. When they return home tired in the evening, I want to offer them something fresh,” she said smilingly.
I could only remain silent before this woman who did all the household work, gardening, and making fountains, besides seeing to the homework of the children. The house looked spotlessly clean too.
She challenged me with all this to make use of all the talents hidden in me at to serve the society — that too with joy.
As I left her house my thoughts rushed back to my childhood and to my aunt, who remains my favorite even to this day. The first memory I have of her is that of going to the Sunday Mass holding her hand. My sister and I would be on her either side. She was so caring and loving.
As I grew up, and moved out, to different places, my love for her increased. It is mutual I must say. She is a living saint for me. She could sense the needs of her nieces and nephews who visited their ancestral home, while caring for the aged father-in-law and her own five little children. She received everyone joyfully and cared for each of them. Today she has grown pretty old, but her loving heart is still youthful.
These are women of substance who taught me what it means to be of service; what it means to be selfless. I am still learning.
Each one of them has challenged me and is challenging me to use the different talents God has given me for the welfare of others.