Any morning a sister can walk into our choir, dimly lighted by the light shining on the tabernacle, and blink when the portress rounds the corner. It looks as if she has a gray python wrapped around her arm, and it is anyone’s guess if she is petting it or trying to free herself. Neither actually. What she carries is the large roll of telephone wire that has to be laid twice a day for the broadcasts on Radio Maria.
Our lack of daily contributions to this blog can be explained in several ways, but at the top of each explanation there stands: we are on air. Not as some saints were, like our Franciscan brother Saint Joseph of Cupertino when he levitated above the earth. In stead we continue to walk on radio waves each day, during the morning celebration of Holy Mass and the evening Office of Vespers. Hopefully a forthcoming newsletter for December/January will give more details. For now it suffices to say there isn’t one of us who doesn’t wish she really could levitate slightly above her choir stall rather than listen to loud creaks of old wood playing an off-key accompaniment to the singing. That ‘tune’ reaches from the south of Belgium to the beaches of the North Sea.
It is a communal effort in every way, but it is the little touches that make this month one to remember: the unknown sister who turns on lights so the portress can find her way, another who is always there, unasked, to haul a needed bench. It is the small services which make the real waves in life.
