below is the paper i wrote… it was a very powerful experience to re-live some of those moments in my thoughts while working on it.
I didn’t mention in my paper (because of trying to stick to the point) how i would go every tuesday to the house with my good friend toni..whose wedding i just was at! love that girl.. and it was so great sharing those times with her.
I didn’t mention in my paper (because of trying to stick to the point) how i would go every tuesday to the house with my good friend toni..whose wedding i just was at! love that girl.. and it was so great sharing those times with her.
I went to visit Kim on Christmas Eve… as i walked into her room she started to cry…and i had to fight so hard to not cry along with her. I wanted to be strong for her. We shared some conversation but mainly just holding eachother’s hands..and trying to distract her from her losing battle with aids. I found out later that week that she passed away that night.
Natalie Caron
Freshman English – 103 A
My Favorite Place
My car’s clock blinks five am and darkness still covers the city streets of Atlanta. The thought of my destination is the only thing that keeps me going this early in the morning. As I drive through a shady neighborhood, I stick out almost as much as the house I’m headed towards. It’s a kind of neighborhood you wouldn’t want to stroll through at night and in my mind the peeking light of the sunrise brings more comfort than usual. A shooting or domestic dispute is not a rare occurrence in this area. However, the threatening surroundings never deterred me from making my bi-weekly drive from suburbia to the urban city streets. My sleepiness is jolted as I, with a bump, pull into the cracked driveway and park the car. It’s almost eerily silent outside as I walk up the path of the simple two-story house. The porch lamps aid the rising sun in shining light on the flowers that line the walk way and surround the feet of a statue of Our Lady. The statue isn’t the only thing that distinguishes this house from the others in the area. The plot’s mown lawn, trimmed hedges and soft glow coming from the inside make it stand out from all the others on this early Tuesday morning. The house is warm and inviting and I jump an extra step as I eagerly come up to the door.
Entering the house, the young women in their crisp white saris trimmed with a deep blue welcome me. They hug me with a soft kiss on the cheek and comment with a smile on how cute my new haircut is. Even though it’s just a trim, nothing gets by them. Their joy is contagious. They glow and immediately you are captivated with every word they say. Sister Maria Christi quickly catches me up on how everyone is doing and the recent adventures in the house. I love the smell of spices that always fill the house. It’s as if the scent of their homeland, India, has come with them in their travels here years ago. These women have given their lives to serve the poor. They are Sisters of the Missionaries of Charity and have taken vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. As they greet me we instinctively move towards the chapel. The house is silent except for our whispering voices and the soft patter of their sandaled feet trying not to wake the sleeping women upstairs. The Sisters and I go and make a short visit in their small but beautiful chapel then rise and exit ready to get to work.
As I walk up the creaky steps to the second floor I grow impatient to see the faces I have become friends with. Beautiful faces in my eyes but not so to the world. They are young women abandoned and left to die from aids. They first came to the Sister’s house out of desperation, knowing only loneliness and sadness and have here been able to find comfort and joy. Even though this is an opted routine for me, my stomach gets the same sinking feeling as I enter the first room. There is Kim lying in her bed in a simple room she has now called her own for over one year. Her eyes are still shut and it gives me a minute to look at her and realize that her condition has worsened. All that’s left of her is skin and bones. She has become an image I only thought I would see on t.v or in a magazine documenting some far off country. Aids is taking this girls once beautiful body. Yet even though this image makes me bite my lip and want to turn away I take a step forward to her bedside and lay my hand on the soft white linens. Kim’s eyes open and her face suddenly glows with a huge smile. This moment, this look, is exactly why I come to the Sisters’ House. It is why it has become in fact, my favorite place.
Even though Kim’s health is worsening and her body crippling, her eyes still have that same glow; the glow of peace that she was only able to find here with the Sisters. She is 21 years old and yet because of aids she looks aged beyond her years. Her dark skin is soft but worn and her short coarse hair is tied back in a loose pony tail. Kim has one of those faces that you can’t help but want to look at and study. She was at one point breathtakingly beautiful and now as I look at her in her bed I see that slowly aids is changing her. But her sickness will never be able to change or take away the beauty that I have found she has inside. She can always make me laugh. She has such a wit about her. Her sarcasm keeps me on my toes but she always knows when to be serious. You would think that someone dieing would be sad but this is never the case with Kim. She never wants me to feel sorry for her. She always has a smile on her face.
I say a few words to Kim, squeeze back her hand that holds mine and then continue on to the other rooms to greet the women and ask what they want for breakfast. Once all the orders are in I head back downstairs to the kitchen with the traditional hop at the last step. With a little clanging of the silver pots and pans and burning of the grits breakfast is ready! The women who are well enough to come downstairs arrive in their nightgowns, still sleepy, but awake enough to laugh at me and my attempt to make breakfast. They have come to love me and my amazing culinary skills nonetheless. I swing dance in the kitchen with one of the women who loves to dance and even though we look ridiculous all the women clap for us when we take our curtsy at the end. I’ve come to love making a fool of myself here with the women if it means that I can get a smile on their face. I never would have thought that my favorite place would be one that involved scrubbing of old creaky wooden floors and hard bathroom tiles, but there is something special in the moments I share with the women here. As I lift up the spoon of the delicacy known as applesauce, one of the young girls pretends to be asleep. But she cracks and gets a smerk on her face when I start telling her I’m going to eat the applesauce if she doesn’t. As she peeks open one eye she gives in and takes the bite waiting for her. I am victorious!
A favorite place to me is somewhere that makes you happier than anywhere else. At the Sister’s House working with the women with aids I find that a simple smile or a plate of mysterious looking eggs could mean the world to someone who never experienced any kind of compassion or love. Work here is no longer thought of as a chore but a gift. I find joy here with the Missionary of Charity Sisters in making the last days of these amazing women peaceful. Driving home at the end of the day I’m utterly exhausted but completely fulfilled. The thought of the funny and touching moments of the day brings a smile to my face and I leave my favorite place looking forward to the next time I will return.
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Such a powerful experience to have lived through at such a young age...but it made me value life and those that i love so much more…and to realize that everyone deserves to know how much they are loved and valued as a person.
If you are intersted in helping with the Sister’s don’t hesitate to see if they have a house near you! This journey all started with my mom (when i was little) offering her help to the sisters….and then them asking us to bring some cookies for the after school program….. If you open yourself up, God can use you in so many ways! You might feel overwhelmed with life..work…babies…house to do’s…but giving of our time to help others know they are loved is sooo important. I just encourage you to love in the little things like Mother Teresa always said. You might not be able to go over to India to work with the poor on the streets…but there are plenty of ways in your daily life to love like Mother Teresa. (Even if it is to suffer with joy)
Cynthia
June 13, 2010 at 11:25 pmThank you for sharing this Natalie. What a beautiful, touching story. I have always been taken aback by the Missionaries of Charity…Mother Teresa has always, always been a favorite of mine. I pray to have the same kind of generosity of self as she had.
Great reminder to go out and help those around us! Makes me want to go pick up one of her books now…
God bless!
Becky
July 3, 2010 at 4:30 pmHello Natalie,
Thank you for such a beautiful story of the experience you had ministering to these ladies. We should all find ways to serve others in such giving and selfless ways.
I am sure you do not remember our family as you were very young when you left Rochelle, IL but you were friends with my daughter Lauren as I was friends with your dear mother Jan. It does not surprise me that you have grown to be such a beautiful, thoughtful woman as your mother was such a caring lady that this young mother looked up to! We have since lost touch and I would really like to connect with her again. Maybe that can happen in the near future. My husband Randy and I always enjoyed your family and missed you all when you moved.
I have really enjoyed your blog and I will pass it on to my daughters. Lauren and her sister Rhiannon both have fashion blogs and sell their clothing as well. God Bless you in your ministry and your design and photography business.
Becky Leifheit
rleifheit@gmail.com