They walked the halls then

as they do now.

Though their garb is different

their reality is

surprisingly 

alike

despite

100 years 

between them.

The Spanish Flu.

1918.

Sweat beads

transfer

from forehead

to heart,

from shoulder,

to shoulder

as the sister prays

up and down

the shadowy 

halls.

Her rosary beads

slip

familiar 

through her

fingers

before she 

plunges her hands 

into scalding water

to sanitize them

yet again.

Do those Sisters of old,

who birthed health care here

so very long ago,

do their spirits 

hover in these halls

100 years later?

Do they see their 

lineage,

the nurses of today, 

whispering prayers

and shoring up their 

breaking hearts

and sanitizing their hands

yet again?

What wisdom

would those dear

Sisters give

their modern counterparts

as they rush

and multitask,

as they hurry home

drained

and fear they 

can’t face this

all over again

tomorrow?

Does faith 

in a God of love

even help?

Or is it a hindrance?

A stumbling block

of thick, unwelcome

mystery,

easily sidestepped

by hearts

quickly hardening

in pure effort

to keep from

falling apart.

Do the Sisters pray

even now

and in so doing

continue their work,

lightening loads,

leading those defeated

over the threshold,

to an eternal home?

When those nights

are long

and the pressure

builds up

between your

eyes and

you complain 

of your sore feet

cause you 

don’t dare

share about your

fissured heart,

think of them….

The Sisters.

whispering,

“Lord, have mercy,”

in the midst 

of their own

unanswerable 

mystery,

their hearts 

knotted 

with the sadness,

and the trauma,

of a world war

behind them

and a pandemic

before them.

Imagine those knots

tugging loose

with each

release,

each breath,

each prayer.

Faith

Is most needed

When its

The most hard

To believe.

“Jesus, have mercy.”

We need to keep whispering it today.

Letting it

unravel our 

strained attempts

to keep our head above water.

“Lord, have mercy.”

Faith, buoy me

When I can’t buoy myself,

Or anyone else.

The Sister

in the shadows

enters the room

and hears the gasping

breath

and her fingers find

his in the dark

and they hold on

to each other,

the soul’s last anchor on earth

and she whispers,

“Lord, have mercy.”

“Then the King

 will say…

 for I was hungry and you gave Me food; 

I was thirsty and you gave Me drink;

 I was a stranger and you took Me in; 

I was naked and you clothed Me; 

I was sick and you visited Me…” 

Matthew 25: 35-36

*Read more about the Grey Nuns of Canada, Saint Marguerite d’Youville and the Spanish Flu of 1918.

https://sgm.qc.ca/en/saint-marguerite-dyouville/

https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/grey-nuns

https://thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/1918-spanish-flu-in-canada