Then call her blest

Only, believe
Mary on her 80th birthday
the heart’s wide-open door
lets out, lets in
another kind of love.
Measure this love
(imponderable,
unfathomable love)
not in totality
poured out on one,
nor in the numbering
of the body’s fruits.
Then call me blest;
I have a hundred
hundred daughters
and as many
sons. 
~ From a poem about being celibate, by April O'Leary RSCJ

Last week one of our sisters slipped peacefully into the fullness of life, and unending Love. Mary was 95, and had been a vowed RSCJ for 66 years. I only knew her for the final three decades of her long life, after she had retired from years of teaching in boarding schools, and a few years as Director of Novices. Our lives, as so often happens with RSCJ, interwove in various ways over the years, especially when we were together in community for the first four years of my time in Oxford. 

Mary was quietly, quaintly genteel; a decorous woman of impeccable manners, and immaculate appearance. Even her everyday clothes were smart, her only concessions to 'dressing down' being a couple of voluminous cardigans, and donning an apron when it was her turn to cook. Genteel, yes; but also playful and anxious in turns, and shot through with steel. Soon after the collapse of Communist rule, and in her 60s, Mary went to Moscow, where she lived for several years. Somehow, this most English of Englishwomen navigated her way through new cultures, realities and relationships, learning Russian and a good deal more, and making several lifelong friends along the way. After her return to the UK she faithfully kept in touch with several people, and I can still remember her delight whenever one of them called, or came to visit. Quiet and decorous she may have been, but Mary loved people, unashamedly.

We shared our house in Oxford with 23 post-graduate students, from a diversity of backgrounds and countries. When I began contacting them with news of Mary's death, word soon spread, and then came the messages and tributes, short but poignantly heartfelt... Such a calm and lovely presence in our community... so kind... loving... gentle... I remember how she welcomed me... A special person... I have sweet memories of her gentleness and kindness... She always left you feeling better about the world... Such a warm smile... She has a special place in our hearts... She really helped to make 11NG such a lovely place... Such kindness, and a subtle sense of humour... Her gentle wit, friendly interest, and kind concern for residents of 11NG... And one, quite simply - She was a good person to have in the world. 

They loved Mary; that much was clear - because she loved them first. They loved her because her heart's wide-open door had let out, and let in, a kindly, gentle love...

In 2009 the entire house, plus guests, celebrated Mary's 80th birthday with a garden party. It was May, and after several days of chilly weather, the day dawned and felt like the first day of summer; a golden day, filled with the warmth of sunshine and love. The students took time out from their busy schedules to help with preparations - and, in one case, to lovingly bake a fourfold cake - with others taking over the barbecue and serving. And at one point, after speeches were spoken and gifts were given, they and others queued up, two dozen and more, to have their photos taken with this slight, elderly woman, whose radiant smile said more than words ever could. More than flowers and other tokens, on that day Mary received a far greater gift - her wide-open love returned, in a humbling, overwhelming hundredfold. 

It was an outpouring and a hundredfold of love I saw again three years later, when the students organised and then lured Mary into a surprise leaving party, on the eve of her departure for our house in Hayes.

Only, believe her heart’s wide-open door let out, let in a special kind of love... Then call her blest, for she had a hundred hundred daughters, and as many sons...

And may Mary now rest in the eternal embrace of the One who is the source of all the love she spent her life quietly pouring out...

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