Le 5 janvier I was still fairly young when my Grandma Skurka got ill and passed away. My Gram Barry was around a lot longer and was with us until this past June. I’m pretty sure, too, that Gram left us when she did because she knew that we were all okay and she didn’t have to worry about us anymore. I feel sometimes that she left so that I didn’t have to worry about her while away from home for so long.
Sometime during the summer, Jacqui – a friend who was here in Gisenyi before me, was giving me some information about the community I’m living with. She recounted the sisters’ names, where they’re all from and a little bit about them. When she said “Sr. Josephine,” my eyes welled up. That was Gram’s name. There had been a Sr. Josephine in Geneva, too, and I was so incredulous that of all the names in the world one sister in each community was a Josephine.
I’ve been feeling a very strong connection to each of my grandmothers here in Gisenyi. There are a multitude of reasons that make me think of them, but I know they’re looking down on me and watching out for me. I think this week God just wanted to make a point: we are hosting a visiting (non-Salesian) nun for the week, one who’s from Poland. What’s her name? “Dorothy, but I also go by Dorothea.” Honestly? This is only the second Dorothy I’ve ever known, and she happens to be with me in a convent in the middle of Rwanda with Sr. Josephine. Guardian angels in the flesh.
Sometime during the summer, Jacqui – a friend who was here in Gisenyi before me, was giving me some information about the community I’m living with. She recounted the sisters’ names, where they’re all from and a little bit about them. When she said “Sr. Josephine,” my eyes welled up. That was Gram’s name. There had been a Sr. Josephine in Geneva, too, and I was so incredulous that of all the names in the world one sister in each community was a Josephine.
I’ve been feeling a very strong connection to each of my grandmothers here in Gisenyi. There are a multitude of reasons that make me think of them, but I know they’re looking down on me and watching out for me. I think this week God just wanted to make a point: we are hosting a visiting (non-Salesian) nun for the week, one who’s from Poland. What’s her name? “Dorothy, but I also go by Dorothea.” Honestly? This is only the second Dorothy I’ve ever known, and she happens to be with me in a convent in the middle of Rwanda with Sr. Josephine. Guardian angels in the flesh.
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