Speak to Me Sunday: Connecting the Dots

This is a story about Tanzania, Georgia, Texas, North Dakota, and Kenya; it's a story about connecting the dots.

Several years ago an African priest visiting our area asked our family if we would welcome into our home a nun from Tanzania who was studying in New Jersey and needed some place to go during spring break. We wholeheartedly agreed, and soon Sr. Gaudiosa arrived wearing her blue habit, speaking broken English, but flashing a smile which drew everyone to her.

Since then she has been here four times, even spending two Christmas vacations with us. We've taken her to the movies (she loved Hairspray and The Lion King), we've gone bowling (she bowled a strike on her very first try), we've traveled (to the World of Coca-Cola in Atlanta and the state museums in Columbia), and once, after a visit to the planetarium, we returned home and used flashlights and rubber balls to explain the workings of the Solar System.

We are blessed from knowing her. Just being in her presence makes us kinder and gentler.

From Tanzania to Augusta, GA ... we both still marvel at that.

After her last visit sister went to study at Our Lady of the Lake Catholic University in San Antonio, TX where she was working on a Master's Degree in Social Work. We stayed connected via email and the occasional phone call.

In the meantime, I had been writing on two fronts. Personally, I wrote some "sister stories" both here and through various presentations I did at a Women's Bible Study (one of those stories was even published in Canticle Magazine). Professionally, I was working for a Catholic Company and writing articles for parish newsletters. The articles involved interviewing people from all over the United States.

One day I received an assignment to write an article on a couple from Bismarck, ND who would be spending three months that summer serving as missionaries in Kenya. I spoke with the couple for a long time. They explained their work in Africa, and when they mentioned they had met with some African nuns to get a crash course on language and culture I mentioned our family's connection to Africa by way of a nun from Tanzania.

There was a pause on the phone. Then, "Is your nun by chance studying in Texas?" they asked.

"Uhm ... yes! In San Antonio. Her name is Sr. Gaudiosa," I replied.

"We know her!" they exclaimed. "We went to San Antonio for discernment training and met with several sisters from Africa who shared some insights with us. Sr. Gaudiosa sang and danced for us! She taught us some words in Swahili!"

I was overcome with emotion. Sister has sung and danced for us many times, too. She taught us how to say jambo (hello) and asante sana (thank you). When she visited our boys' school, she taught the class the Our Father in Swahili.

But more than anything, I was humbled how God, in creating this vast, beautiful world, can still make it seem small and connected.

Tanzania, Georgia, Texas, North Dakota, Kenya.

Connecting the dots.

For more sister stories ...

Upon Simplifying Christmas
One Good Deed a Day: A Helping Hand
One Good Deed a Day: Those in Authority
Our Very Own Christmas Miracle
Asante Sana, Sister
A Hankie for My Pocket

Visiting Timothy's Kindergarten class

Sister dancing and singing for us

Visiting the Augusta Museum of History

Sister, Joe, and the boys

One Good Deed a Day: Those in Authority

If you have the power, means or authority to make a change, do it.


Sr. Gaudiosa, a nun from Tanzania, is a sister to me in every way but blood. She is part of our family and many times we have welcomed her into our home.


Once, after spending a couple of weeks with us, we drove Sr. Gaudiosa to the airport and, as we were helping her check her luggage, the airline check-in agent said that both suitcases were overweight and she would have to pay extra. It was a pretty hefty fine.

I looked at the agent and said, "Everything, absolutely everything she owns in this world is in these two suitcases."

And I knew what I was talking about because I had helped her pack them. Inside were her habits made from thick, blue material, her sturdy black shoes, a winter coat that we had purchased for her, stationery, and some toiletries. That was it.

The agent didn't say anything, and as he continued to type on his keyboard my husband got out his wallet to pay the fine.

Except there wasn't one.

When the agent loaded the suitcases on the conveyer belt he looked up and said, "Don't worry, I took care of it. Have a safe flight, Sister."

And he smiled.

Something I Never Imagined Myself Doing

Today I find myself in the unusual position of having to write a letter of recommendation for a nun. Easiest letter I've ever had to write. #nothingbutgoodthingstosay

Sister's first visit with us (2009).

Asante Sana, Sister

I knew the day was coming, but it came too quickly.

Sister Gaudiosa -- my sister in Christ, my Tanzanian friend, my inspiration for all that is good -- is returning to her native country. I cannot express how she has touched our lives, and I still marvel at the miracle which brought together two women from different countries, who grew up in two very different cultures, both of them living very different vocations.

After I heard the news, I knew I wanted to give her something, but what? She can only take back with her what she can carry; in fact, in the past two weeks she has been giving away all her possessions. In the end, I gave her the only thing I could: I went through my blog and printed out all my "sister stories", I made copies of articles I had written for Canticle Magazine and the Marianite which were about her, and I put all these in a packet and mailed them to her. There were a lot of stories.

She leaves this week, and in a recent email she said she has nothing to give me but her prayers.

Only her prayers, she says. To me, that is everything, and I am richly blessed.

Asante sana, dear Sister.

~~~~~~~~~

Hello Maria,

 

Happy Thanksgiving. My goodness you suprised me  when I found all the stories about me. I spent a lot of time reading and laughing.  You are a good writer. It was a long journey where I came from. I do remember the first time I came to visit you. Timonthy was like two years old. He crawled and hid himself back to the coach for few minutes, and then he came to me with a big smile and he started playing with me and we became friends.

 

You will be in my memories and prayers. I hope I will  see you again. Nothing is impossible to God. I appreciate for your gift. I have nothing to give you expect my prayers and just the words, Asante sana. Karibu Tanzania.

 

Lala salama or usiku mwame.

Sr.Gaudi