Everything is too quiet—no breeze, no chirping of birds, no movement. The scene could be a painting on a canvas. But something—with no evidence to prove it–is stirring, brewing, intensifying. What will come? A much-needed rain? Hail? Damaging winds? The storm of the century as happened with West Virginia’s flooding? Or nothing at all in one of nature’s false alarms?
Three hours before the beginning of our province’s jubilee celebration honoring jubilarians of 50, 60, 65, 70, and 75 years I walked through the Sisters of Notre Dame Center. Nineteen candles stood in readiness. Day lilies, snowballs, and other flowers were ready to show off their beauty. The tables in the conference room were set in Mardi Gras colors of purple, green, and gold. The program with its Mardi Gras theme written by our sisters ministering in New Orleans was practiced, the stage empty. What would burst forth from the silence, the waiting? It was certainly the calm before the storm of love.
When we Sisters of Notre Dame gather on any occasion, the hugs are numerous, the laughter loud, but the decibels do not come near the noise of jubilee celebration. For 50 or more years our sister-jubilarians have lived a life consecrated by vowed loving chastity, loving poverty, and loving obedience. On jubilee the lives of our jubilarians gush in a tsunami of love.
