We decided to take the family out to dinner last night. We had roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls. There was coleslaw and apple sauce and beets (though I noticed no one at our table ate the beets). It only took three and a half hours to get there, but the food was great.
It was the annual roast beef dinner at our children’s former school in Maryland and at some point on Saturday, child number two missed the Oblate Sisters who founded the school and who continue to live on the campus and serve the students faithfully. Armed with access to the Internet, she looked online to find out when the dinner was being held. As luck would have it, we had very little planned on Sunday, so into to car we piled and off we went. When we arrived, the children could not wait to get inside. It was as if they just needed to touch base with a place they once called home.
Inside, we were immediately greeted with looks of surprise (“Who drives three hours for dinner?”) and the children, in time, found their friends and listened patiently as adults talked to them and about them. The eldest sister gently chastised child number three for failing to write (which he really should do), everyone commented on how tall the children had gotten (which they have), how must they are missed (not as much as we miss that school), and how much children can change in four years (Amen!).
The food, of course, was delicious but the night was really about reconnecting with the holiness and calm the good sisters bring to any occasion. Their charism is simple: “Live Jesus.” And they do this so well, so kindly, so gently, so effectively. There is a peacefulness about the place we have yet to duplicate. The sisters invite you into their home, share what little they have, pray with you and for you, and challenge you to be better than you were when you arrived.
There is not enough of those challenges in our daily lives these days. There are not enough people who Live Jesuson our networks and in our halls of government. There is not enough authenticity on our airwaves and online. We need more people living Jesus – and, as the sisters would remind us, we need to start with ourselves.
After dinner, we headed home – another three and a half hours up the Jersey Turnpike and across the George Washington Bridge, which in and of itself is a near occasion of sin. Then down the Merritt Parkway, over to 95 and on to exit 25.
The children were tired this morning, but no one complained about going to school. Their stomachs are still satisfied by the full of good food we enjoyed, and their hearts are filled with the joy that only comes from touching base with home.
