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Immaculette's Gift

by Bonnie Steele

I never intended to be a missioner. The idea scared me—it was just too uncomfortable. And then three years ago, I received an invitation to travel to Haiti. After talking to my family, to Fr. Mike Sullivan my boss and pastor, and reflecting on the invitation, I chose to join the group that was traveling. I had some trepidation about going, but I opened my heart to whatever the experience would be. On this visit, I would help care for children at the Missionaries of Charity Home for Sick and Abandoned Babies.

Stories and pictures could not prepare me for the sights, sounds, smell, and experiences of Haiti. Standing at the threshold of the Missionaries of Charity, my heart was filled with anxiety. I saw the parents sitting quietly on the dusty cement stoop, in the blazing heat, with their sick children hoping their child would be admitted.

Preparing for Mass in Haiti

When I walked into the home, my mothering instincts kicked in as I touched the young child closest to me. Her limp arms and legs dangled when I held her in my arms. Only her lips tightly pursed showed the exertion of her struggle to breathe. She was light as a feather, emaciated by starvation, and dying of tuberculosis – only later would I learn that she was two and one half years old. I thought she was an infant because of her tiny frame. Her eyes were open, but unseeing. Her hair was red. Her skin was dry. She was so hot. She had a wet handkerchief tied to her forehead for comfort.

My emotions were stirred. As I held this little girl, tears began to come. I pulled down the bill of my baseball hat to hide my tears. I asked God, “Why am I here? How can this be? What can I do?” I was embarrassed by the times I felt I did not have enough possessions or opportunities and the many times I’ve complained either openly or quietly to myself. I began to ask our Father to forgive me for my myopic world view that sees only the inconveniences in life, for self-centeredness. Excuses were impotent and I had none to offer in the face of such immense suffering and being known.

In that moment, that dying child offered me a gift. I couldn’t stop her suffering. I couldn’t restore her to health. I could pray. I could sing. I could rock and hold her. In that moment, I connected with her humanity, her suffering, and the Jesus in her. In that moment, I became aware that both of us were in the presence of a holy God – and aware that we are always in the presence of our holy God. In that moment of clarity, I recognized that we always and in every situation have the opportunity and privilege to connect with the humanity of our sisters and brothers and the Jesus in them. We do not need to travel to Haiti to learn these things; we can connect in our own communities and cities.

Immaculette’s suffering changed something in me. I came home with a resolve that said, “I cannot change the whole world, but I can do something.” I can hold Jesus in my arms everyday, knowing Jesus will come in many guises, and recognize Jesus in everyone. I can have a clearer sense of what is important, and stop focusing on what I lack. This was Immaculette’s gift to me.

This one moment’s gift became a gift for many. I told her story to my friends, my family, to my parish, and to all who would listen. Two years ago, St. Joseph the Worker began a sister-parish relationship with Sainte Catherine d’Alexandre in Bouzy, Haiti and parishioners visit our brothers and sisters there regularly. Our hearts are being knit together in love and grace each day. Immaculette’s suffering brought life and transformation not only to me, but also to the lives of the community of St. Joseph the Worker in Maple Grove. I thank Immaculette for her gift to us every day.