A Grateful Heart

A Grateful Heart

Sep 10, 2024 | 1 comment

By Sarah G.

One of the greatest and most priceless gifts that my novice mistress passed on to me during my religious formation was the habit of gratitude. My novice mistress was a radiant, joyful sister who lived from the fountain of a continual awareness that everything she had and was a gift from her Heavenly Bridegroom, and she diligently formed us, her novitiate charges, in this same outlook on life. 

“Thank You, Jesus!” was her frequent exclamation, and this phrase was her response to many thngs, large and small—from a much-needed summer downpour to the sweet shot of a croquet ball through a challenging hoop. Sister taught us to cultivate an “attitude of gratitude.”  She encouraged us to make what she called a “litany of gratitude” in times when we were feeling down or sad, discouraged or doubting—that is, we were to begin listing one by one the many blessings in our lives for which we were grateful. Listening to this sister launch into her own litany was like watching a “little soul” (to use the language of St. Therese of Lisieux) spread giant wings to soar to dizzying heights of trust and confidence.

Gratitude was not exactly the soil in which I had grown up as a child. We were trained to express the conventional thanks for gifts on birthdays or for meals Mom had prepared, but living in a continual spirit of gratitude was a habit that grew slowly in me, by degrees. As this “attitude of gratitude” took root in me, it began to bother me that I was not more grateful for my vocation. I loved religious life, but my own living of it could at times be painted in shades of grey rather than in vibrant oils or lovely pastels. 

Strangely, as the realization pressed in upon me that my heart was divided over making my approaching Solemn Vows, my gratitude for the vocation grew. I kissed the habit I donned every morning with profound thanks for another day to live in God’s house. I began filling a pocket notebook with litanies of gratitude, a page a day. I still do not remember exactly what came first—the memory may become clearer in time—but I think that it was when I chose to muscle through to Solemn Vows no matter what the cost that I stopped praying the daily litanies. Then, I left—and my heart was shattered.  For many months, depression, despair, anger, frustration, confusion, and shame crushed the very word “gratitude” out of my consciousness.  

But one day the “g” word resurfaced. I remembered my novice mistress and the contagious joy in which she lived because of her childlike certainty that everything was a gift to her personally from the One who loved and delighted in her. In spirit I fell to my knees and thanked God for placing me among loving people who had now become my friends. I thanked Him for never letting me go hungry, for giving me a roof over my head, a job, a car, and health insurance. I thanked Him for the inner darkness which had been the catalyst for a new, deeper level of trust in Him. And I thanked Him even for the fear and confusion I was still feeling, the nagging uncertainty of the meaning of my life now as a single lay woman. Why? Because He is my Father, and I thank Him for His Plan which is too beautiful for my dim human eyes to see.  

I know now that an attitude of gratitude begins with the capacity to receive all as a gift of love from the Beloved, whether it be a vocation or the painful, yet gentle, revelation of one’s own heart to oneself by the Spirit of Truth. Yes, gratitude can be a kind of protection during times of great pain. It absorbs the shock of distressing situations that, without this barrier, are more than we can bear. But gratitude is also a light which reveals to us the loving, providing hand of our Heavenly Father in the midst of difficulties, giving us courage and strength to persevere in faith.  

In a few weeks I will have rounded out my first year outside the monastery. I have many things to be grateful for. But most of all, I thank God for a tall, slender sister with dancing blue eyes who has given me the gift of a lifetime: the gift of a grateful heart.  

A Gratitude Lesson

A Gratitude Lesson

Jun 19, 2024 | 6 comments

by GA

Within my first year of leaving the convent, a well-intended person asked me, “What are the things you are grateful for from your time in religious life?” I chuckled, surprised at the question because it was one of those for which I had an answer before even having a question. “Nothing,” I said, fully convinced of my response. There was a part of me that genuinely could not find anything to be grateful for, and there was another part of me that knew that I was wrong. There is always something to be grateful for, especially because it all comes from God. 

As time has passed, my mind has often found its way back to the memory of that question: “What are you grateful for, girl? There has to be something.” Every now and then I have been able to identify a thing or two to be grateful for, even if only for the time and love I received from sisters who have avoided contact with me since I left. I am grateful for them and their listening ears, despite the unexpected expiration date. I am grateful for the little space I was allowed to occupy while trying to flourish in my malnourished vocation. I am grateful for… 

Unfortunately, almost anything I can be grateful for appears to be tied to a “but” statement that somehow diminishes, in my opinion, the fullness of gratitude. I can be grateful for the many novel experiences that I had with them, but these experiences also remind me of how much I was not a fit for the community. 

There is, however, one experience that is not connected to a “but” statement: the privilege of being in such close contact with Jesus in the Eucharist. In addition to living only 40 steps away from a quiet chapel, I had the privileged opportunity of changing the tabernacle lamp when needed. That light, a sign of the real presence of Jesus, continues to be my best response to the gratitude question.     

The candle by the tabernacle has captivated me for a long time. I once wrote a poem about it—praying that I can be light to others and that my life can be spent melting at His feet. Why is that task of changing the tabernacle lamp something I can be grateful for? Because the unfortunate circumstances inside the convent that were extinguishing the fire of my vocation only forced me to look at Him more intentionally. God in His mercy found a way of consoling my heart in the quiet, hidden task of changing the tabernacle light. God was with me. There are no “buts” to that, only “ands.” God was with me and consoled me. God was with me and gave me alone time with Him. God was with me, and that is all that matters. 

This past Easter, my sixth after the convent, I had a special encounter with the tabernacle lamp at my parish. We had joyfully celebrated with the Exultet, the readings, the Gloria, the Alleluia, baptisms and confirmations, and finally Holy Communion. The thing is that I almost failed to notice, the most quiet of signs, was the lighting of the tabernacle lamp after Holy Communion. We were still kneeling, there was meditative music, and in the middle of the busyness of the moment, the deacon proceeded to return the Eucharist to the tabernacle for the first time since it was emptied on Holy Thursday. Immediately, he lit a new light for the tabernacle. 

The scene took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. What a joy! Oh, how I missed that simple task of bringing new light to the tabernacle! How I had loved that hidden and quiet task! How privileged was I in religious life for the times that I got to change the sanctuary lamp! 

Dear friend, I can now answer that question. I am grateful for God’s love for us in the Eucharist, and I pray that you can also find a light of gratitude in your journey after the convent.