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REFLECTION

The quiet dignity and loving detachment that Sister not prepared for was how this would impact me.
exhibited during our short companionable time together “It would never be helpful or fair to your spiri-
benefitted me greatly. I did not come to her hungry for tual directee to complicate the relationship by becoming
friendship. I did not expect her to pastor or teach me, or friends,” we were told one day in class, “not even to sit
to offer me marital counseling. What I needed and what down at a café together for a quick coffee, much less a
she became for me was a soul friend who offered an extra glass of wine. The entire dynamics change. Once you
set of ears so that together we might listen to my life and start, you can never go back. And if there is any alcohol
identify the places in which God was both moving and concerned, and you are continuing to act in the role of
already at work. We were a good match. When I returned spiritual director, you are on shaky ground. It is impera-
home after a session with Sister Barbara, I never worried tive that you do not put your spiritual directee in this situ-
about having offended, never concerned myself with keep- ation. There is no need.”
ing in touch, never felt judged or misunderstood, and These pronouncements might have seemed, to my class-
never felt tied to her apron strings. To the contrary. The mates, to have been harsh or distancing or impossible to
subject of retreats and how they might enhance my prayer accept. But not for me. I had reaped the benefits. Sister had
and prepare me for silence and solitude was often on her never crossed that line, and I had never needed her to. Only
lips, and with a little encouragement I began to explore once did she come close and the breach—if it was one—
this new world and become comfortable with a variety of occurred at our final meeting. On her way out the door, she
spiritual directors and retreat environments. turned and asked softly if my recent and most urgent peti-
Sister was a vowed religious who resided within the walls tions to God for the cessation of pain had been answered.
of the mother house. I knew little more about her. She led “No,” I replied with a frown and shook my head in resigna-
retreats and offered spiritual direction for individuals, and tion. Lingering for a moment, Sister cast me a glance that I
as she often made reference to the paintings on her walls could not interpret. I marked it well—that look—and felt for
that held deep archetypal significance, I understood her to one brief moment an unfamiliar and inexplicable intimacy.
be an artist. After her passing, I learned from her Sisters that When her funeral was announced, I shied away. It
when the pain was unbearable, she would lay in her bed would not be appropriate for an outsider to attend, I told
until alerted that a spiritual directee had arrived and then, myself. Nervously and somewhat apologetically, I went to
with the aid of her caregivers, hoist herself up and make her the viewing and learned to my surprise that Sister Barbara
way to the elevators. Arriving on the first floor, she would had a sister who was also a vowed religious in the same
shuffle at a snail’s pace to her office door, greet us with a order. She immediately put me at my ease, greeted me
grand smile, and quietly take her place behind the desk. Her warmly, and thanked me for coming.
fear and her suffering were private and personal, and never How I wish I had gone to the burial. The interment, as
did she give herself away. Sister Barbara herself had requested, was rich with colour,
In the years that I knew her—did I know her?—I never vibrant in spirit, and bathed in joy.
spotted Sister shopping at our local store or pumping gas Over the years, I had reasoned that Sister’s “line” was
around the corner. I never saw her laughing or sharing a necessary. She did not know my husband or my children.
joke, or slipping on her winter boots to shovel the steps and Her mind was not cluttered with their images or their needs
clear the driveway. She lived within the mystery and sanctu- as she listened with supreme concentration to my story. She
ary of her chosen community—at a prescribed distance. was not on the same church council, and no ill feeling ever
And so when I began to prepare myself to offer spiritual arose between us. We were neither competitors for choice
direction, it was no surprise that the same line was drawn by positions nor jealous congregants vying for power. When
the women who were to be my mentors. The majority were I was present in her office, she saw and heard me, stripped
vowed religious, and though I often saw them in high spirits down, as I was on that day and in that hour as I opened my
sharing a laugh and their lives, I knew that a deep respect heart to her and through her to God.
for their vows and a studied reticence in regard to intimacy And so, I tried, in my own Protestant milieu—my own
and camaraderie would be the order of the day. What I was Protestant, lay, married and mothering milieu—to draw

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