“Rejoice in hope, be patient under trial, persevere in prayer. Look on the needs of the saints as our own; be generous in offering hospitality…Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:12-13).

This section of St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans speaks about Christian behavior and there are words of exhortation and direction, which if one were to follow them carefully, one could end up becoming a saint! That is, of course, the idea for all of us. It takes a lifetime to become holy and one meets individuals throughout the course of one’s life who help us grow in holiness in the exercise of hope, patience and perseverance with people.

Thirty-three years ago when I was in my third year of seminary studies at Mount St. Mary’s Seminary in Emmitsburg, MD, I volunteered at the infirmary for the Sisters of Charity just down the road from the Seminary. These elderly sisters in the infirmary were the spiritual descendants of their foundress, St. Elizabeth Ann Seton. The program was called “Wheel-a-Nun” or something catchy like that. The idea was to visit infirm Sisters who had no family or visitors. I was assigned to Sister Rosalia.

Sister Rosalia was in her eighties and bedridden by disposition, not by any medical condition. Once a week I traveled to the Sisters’ infirmary to visit her. Our conversations were initially limited for lack of things to discuss because there was nothing eventful happening in her life. And then, I thought of the above passage from St. Paul: “Rejoice with those who rejoice….” Because Sister’s mind was often confused, she thought that I taught at the boys’ school. There was no boys’ school, which I had to explain to her every time, which seemed somewhat disappointing to her. So, I decided to make up stories about “the boys” for her amusement. The next time she asked how the boys were doing, I replied: “Oh, Sister, they were very bad today misbehaving in class and I had to get after them.” To which she would reply, “Boys are like that! What else did they do?” And she would listen, laugh and give advice for me for “the boys.” She was rejoicing because she had found value in these stories and recognized something familiar from her earlier, healthier days. As our visits continued over time, she also shared with me. She would save me a cookie from her lunch tray which she wrapped up multiple times in a paper napkin in order for me to have a snack. There was no use convincing her otherwise. She found purpose in being thoughtful and having someone for whom to care.

One time I went to her room and she wasn’t there. I feared the worst. I asked one of the Sisters where Sister Rosalia was and she said, “It’s a miracle! Sister Rosalia’s gotten out of bed.” She had wheeled herself somewhere to get something for me. She hadn’t been out of bed for a very long time. We all rejoiced that afternoon at her renewal of life.

In the summer between my third and fourth years, Sister Rosalia died. I didn’t find out about it until I had returned to the Seminary that August. I wept knowing that I would not see her again. Our time together with “the boys” had come to an end, but God had provided us with a lot of rejoicing in her final months.