Love and Respect – Day 679

Jane and Fr. Tom – The Two Gallaghers; Photo: L. Weikel

Love and Respect

My parents had kids over a span of 18 ½ years. As the youngest, I’ve found myself chasing the love and respect of my siblings for pretty much my entire life. Each of them set an example or raised the bar in some area of their lives that pushed me to strive to be or do my best. I’ve always been trying to catch up to them.

One of the most interesting of my sibling relationships is the one I have with my eldest sister, Jane. My earliest memories of her are as half of a couple with my brother-in-law, Frank*. They were very active in the Marriage Encounter movement of the Catholic Church, so of course Karl and I not only did our “pre-Cana” obligation via an Engaged Encounter weekend, we also participated in a Marriage Encounter weekend within the first couple of years of our married life.

It was obvious to us that ‘the Church’ played a big role in Jane and Frank’s life wherever they lived – be in Massachusetts, Connecticut, or New Hampshire. They always seemed to find a parish where the clergy were open-minded and open-hearted, welcoming and supportive of those less fortunate. In other words, my sister always seemed to find a parish close to home that exemplified the best of Catholic teachings. We weren’t as lucky, which probably played a not insignificant role in my exploration of other spiritual paths.

Haiti

When my sister was right around the age I am now, some 18 years ago, she became active in the birth of a new ministry at the Church of St. Patrick/St. Anthony in Hartford, Connecticut. She was part of an exploratory mission to Haiti laying the groundwork for establishing a sister parish between St. Patrick/St. Anthony’s and a parish in that island nation.

My sister had never been a public speaker. She might be loquacious and unafraid to offer her opinion on a variety of topics one-on-one, but she wasn’t one to grab a microphone or hog a spotlight. So it was a huge deal when she agreed, as an adjunct to her inclusion on the trip, to speak to the parish about the results of her fact-finding mission upon her return. I remember her grousing a bit about having to agree to this responsibility, but feeling she could suck it up if she had to.

I also remember her horror when she discovered – after returning from Haiti – that contrary to her original fear, she wouldn’t have to address the congregation at just one mass. No. She would in fact be required to address the congregation at every – single – mass that weekend. Wow. That was a leap far further than she’d expected.

But what I witnessed was how her passion and commitment to the meaningful growth she believed St. Patrick/St. Anthony’s could experience and share by establishing a sisterly bond with their Haitian counterparts helped her transcend her stomach churning responsibility into a labor of love. Her dedication to that mission lasted many years and translated into several opportunities to be of service in Haiti.

Other Acts of Love

Over the years, Jane has engaged in many other acts of service through the auspices of the Franciscan Order that always seems to have been part of the progressive parishes she’s been lucky enough to be part of throughout her life. She’s engaged in LGBTQ work, assisted in working with the homeless, and knitted countless prayer shawls that have brought peace, comfort, and solace to those yearning for just that.

Meanwhile, she had a ‘little sister’ with whom she shared extremely similar spiritual attitudes, but who pursued them through the ancient ways of shamanism. That could be a big stretch to even admit. Yet she wasn’t embarrassed by me. Rather, I think she takes pleasure in how vastly different our approaches may seem to the outside world, while we nevertheless share the open secret that, ultimately, we’re cut out of the same spiritual cloth.

Celebrating – Photo: L. Weikel

Today’s Proud Moment

And so it was that today I was able to witness a proud moment when Jane was awarded the Francis Medal – a ‘symbol of and connection to Holy Name Province established in 1998. This award is given in gratitude for ways that our partners in ministry have enhanced the Franciscan vision through their participation.’ Jane’s role in establishing the sister parish relationship in Haiti featured prominently in Fr. Tom Gallagher’s expression of appreciation.

His words were all the more poignant meaningful in that today was the celebration of his final masses as Pastor and Guardian of St. Patrick/St. Anthony’s. It was clear from other parts of the mass today in tribute to him that his presence and role in the church and community will be deeply missed.

I’m lucky to have such a wonderful role model as a sister. And I find it particularly amazing and a true gift that we share such a profound spiritual connection while pursuing its expression in vastly different yet deeply meaningful ways.

I’m so proud of you, Jane, both for who you are and the work you’ve contributed – and continue to offer – to your family, the Hartford community, and the world. I’m still trying to keep up. You’re a hard act to follow.

Sisters – Photo: Delia Gallagher Hansen

*Sadly, Frank, far too young, passed away over a decade ago.

(T-432)

Calling Myself Out – Day Fifty Three

Calling Myself Out

I’m wondering how you’re all doing today. I don’t know about you, but my days of the week are all screwed up. I don’t know if I’m starting the week or ending it.

I’ve started about five different iterations of tonight’s post and scrapped them all. I guess I don’t want to waste your precious time on blah-blah-blah, and what I’ve been coming up with has definitely been classic blah-blah-blah.

So let’s see, what am I thinking about?

I found myself welling up a couple of times with pride and hope while watching the news tonight. The diversity of the freshman class of Representatives in the House is phenomenal. And to see in their eyes and demeanors the depth of respect these incoming Reps have for the honor of serving our country and the excitement they have for the prospect of making a difference makes my heart swell.

Serving Our Country

It also frustrates me a little. If I’m honest, I have to admit that I’d love to be in government. I’d love to serve my country in that way. But I’ve always known I’d never be electable – for a myriad of reasons, what I ‘do’ for a living now being an especially obvious reason.

But let’s face it; I speak my mind way too much, too. And my poker face would be non-existent when listening to people lie. Good grief, I think I would’ve had a hard time serving in government back when people were collegial and respectful of basic norms of integrity and decency. But now? I’d strain a muscle trying to muzzle myself from calling out bullshit.

If there was something I secretly aspired to as an attorney, it was to become a judge. I pride myself on my ability to listen with an open mind to anyone and everyone, and give even the most egregious conduct or bizarre positions the dignity of being heard while maintaining impartiality. But becoming a judge where I live and work(ed) as an attorney necessitates becoming a political animal. Hence, I knew I was doomed. I’m just not cut out to say and do what apparently needs to be said or done to get elected.

Sometimes We Need To Relinquish Aspirations

So that’s one set of aspirations I sincerely held that I needed to relinquish fairly early in my life, in spite of my law degree. And yet it frustrates me still, especially in our present era, when we are constantly asked to ‘be the change.’ And to ‘make a difference.’

This is not a poor me post. It’s a simple reaction to my heartfelt pride in witnessing our country finally electing so many women (I think the figure is 100 in this 100th year since women gained the right to vote) and particularly women of such rich and varied backgrounds. And wishing I could be a part of that movement.

One moment I saw that particularly caused me to shed a tear of shared joy was witnessing the two Native American women embracing and shedding tears themselves. And there were so many other great stories. Stories that embody the American Dream, like the freshman Representative from Colorado, I believe, whose parents were refugees from Eritrea (Joe Neguse). This is what our country is all about!

So, I guess the point of this post is to both celebrate a new era in our nation’s politics, and also reveal the obvious: that we don’t always get to manifest our secretly held dreams. At least I didn’t.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.

(T-1058)