Margaret Cessna

The words of Anne Frank and Amanda Gorman give Sr. Margaret Cessna hope that the world can be better. "Why not organize and put the universe to work?" she writes. "What if we did hearts across America?"
 

The inspiration of Jesus' life is usually attributed to his presence, his miracles, his preaching, his message and his followers. And of course, the empty tomb. But I think the marvel of his life was in his one-on-one encounters.

Women have not been recognized nearly enough for our role in serving and saving civilization. We are every age, every color, every ethnicity, every religion. Our praises will only be sung if we do it ourselves. Together.

Book bans taking place in some communities do not stop serious readers from deciding what they will read, writes Sr. Margaret Cessna. She shares lessons she has learned from banned books. 

Sometimes it is better to give and sometimes it is just as appropriate to receive. As we make our way through life's sometimes rocky roads, we learn to give generously and to receive with gratitude. 

"Who made the sky?" "Why can't I see my eyes?" At my ripe old age, my world of wonder is still alive, but I don't think my questions are as interesting as my 4-year-old nephew's. And that's allowed.

Considering the span of all time, we did not arrive on on Earth that long ago. It took us a while to put our home in danger. Healing won't take place in a flash. But with each new generation there is hope, not despair.

I met Penina 15 years ago, when I volunteered as a family mentor for Catholic Charities Refugee Services. Now she is dead, and I wish I could tell her: Thank you, my friend, for your grace, beauty, dignity and affection.

Between our blessings and setbacks, we are called to share our spirit, our energy, our good fortune.

A simple act of making a sandwich, of welcoming the stranger, of ignoring danger is required. This is what my mother taught her children. Wherever she is, I believe her expectation to this day is that we listened.

Life in a religious community for 60 years has been a life grounded and centered in graced love. The thousands of us in the heyday have become older and fewer. Now is the time to pass the torch.

I grew up feasting on stories, and still do as part of a religious community. Stories of success and heartbreak. Of laughter and tears. They feed our hearts and our imaginations. They fire us up. It is who we are.

Many of us are no longer tethered to the church's past, to the Dark Ages. We see with new eyes and new understandings. The winds of change have blown. There is a new dawn and the sun is rising. We go to the light.

Take my watch, my books, my pots and pans. My every possession. But give me a little more time, please, with skin and bones, with beating hearts and working brains. When you don't, my heart breaks over and over again.

What makes us holy? After many long years with a Catholic conscience, I admit I am no expert on holy. But I have learned a few things along the way. Perhaps holiness is simply happiness that is filled with "yes."

My grandma was almost full of grace. But somewhere inside of her was a pocket of sadness. I rarely saw it but it was always there. What I knew and loved was her grace. She never lost her sadness but grace prevailed.

It doesn't take a genius or a saint to change the world. It just takes a generous heart and a willingness to be open to the moment. That moment creates itself at unexpected times and in unexpected places.

Jesus issued the invitation: "Come follow me." His teachings, his invitation and his life are still with us today. Common as we may be, the rest is up to us. And how beautiful it is to be "common."

American sisters are women who turned on a dime after Vatican II and took on the world. They drew new lines. They changed the face of religious life. Not for being mean but for being smart, kind, generous, energetic, determined. Though we're aging and fewer in number, our work goes on with hope and vigor.

"What do you need?" I asked. She never made eye contact with me. I would like a sandwich for my daughter and me. That's all she said. I tried to chat a little. Not what they needed. They needed food for their bodies.