Saint Cecilia

I can’t believe it, but I can now say that I’ve met two saints in the last few months. This one is a twenty-four year old young woman from Mexico, named Cecilia.

(And please, no comments about the fact that I’ve put Luther on the sidebar for the moment! This is how I study – I hop, skip and jump randomly through life; that’s just the way of it!)

I met Cecilia on the very same day that I met Saint Ruth. She came to the Day Shelter on that very first visit and the tour – the one in which I cried throughout because I knew I was in the presence of someone who was so perfectly living out God’s Will.

And not to take away from Miss Ruth, but I realize in hindsight that I started crying that day during the prayer Cecilia prayed at lunch. The tears started and kept coming and I went on the tour with watery eyes and blotches on my face.

I saw Cecilia again in November at Tea at the Ritz, a special afternoon out with my oldest daughter. Cecilia spoke during one of the presentations on the topic of Grace. She said that you could see the Grace of Christ shining through a person’s eyes. And we have a responsibility to fulfill our Baptismal promises by sharing that Grace with those around us.

I wished I had worn waterproof mascara. In fact, I’m quite certain that I must wear waterproof mascara whenever I know I shall see Cecilia again!

Now let me tell you what little I know about her: she is from Mexico, as I mentioned earlier. She’s petite with dark, black/brown hair cut in a swing/bob. She wears poorly tailored suits that look as well as can be expected – they are simple, understated, but not drab and dark. She has, I have learned, two pairs of shoes, one brown and one black, identical, except for color. No make up. She walks sharply, briskly, as a woman on a mission.

And she is. She’s on a Mission for Christ. She’s a Consecrated Woman in an Ecclesial Lay Movement – that’s a high-falutin’ way of saying she’s a lay person like I am, but she’s taken vows to the hierarchy of an Order in the Church called the Legionnaires of Christ. She’s not a Sister or a Nun, although she has similarities to them. She lives differently than a Sister or Nun, but has in common the vows of obedience, chastity and poverty.

And when I say Mission for Christ, I mean MISSION FOR CHRIST. Jesus Christ is stamped all over this young woman in a way that I’ve never seen. As I’m learning more about this Ecclesial Lay Movement (which I’ll explain in another entry), I can see why: she is sold out for Christ. She is a Militant Evangelist.

But not, thanks be to God, in the ways of Westboro Baptist Church.

Instead, she is a Militant Evangelist because she lives a deliberate, ordered and methodical life for Christ. This is something new to me and I find it absolutely fascinating.

A couple of weeks ago, I spoke with another Consecrated woman named Sarah and asked her, “What is it about the people I’ve met from this Lay Movement? It’s like they have some aura or something.”

She told me that it was Grace. Grace that comes from being a part of the Movement. Grace that comes from living their unique spirituality. When I tell you that I can see this Grace, I’m meaning that it’s fairly palpable in them, from one degree to another. I have many friends who are part of this Lay Movement, and they’re not all as full of Grace as the Consecrated women, but they have that aura of Grace, too.

This weekend, I happened to spend more time with Cecilia. My daughter had a Retreat for an organization she’s been involved with (the same ones who had the Tea at the Ritz) and I was a chaperone. Cecilia was in charge of my daughter’s group and I sat in on most of her presentations. And every time she spoke, I cried. I can assure you, it was a humbling experience.

At one point, I asked another Consecrated woman named Susan, what it was about Cecilia that made me cry every time she uttered a word? Susan told me that Cecilia joined the Lay Movement as a very young girl. She was raised in the Lay Movement – no doubt through her parents. And when she was about to enter high school, she entered a program called the Pre-Candidate. She spent her four years of high school cloistered, learning and living out the methodology of the Lay Movement, along with her academics, discerning whether or not she was called to the Consecrated life. She was. And after seven years, made promises (another difference between Consecrated and Sisters or Nuns).

And now she gives her life to the Church. And it’s a beautiful thing. Above all things, she offers the love and charity of Christ to everyone she meets. And because she was a Pre-Candidate (or PC, as Susan called her), she has had a much more thorough inculturation into the spirituality and methodology of the Lay Movement that she loves.

Saturday night, I asked the Director of the Consecrated women, Dorrie, who is Consecrated also, why she thought I always cried when Cecilia spoke. “The Holy Spirit is trying to tell you something. Are you listening?” she asked.

Harumph. I don’t do that very well. Listen, that is.

On Sunday, as I headed down to the tiny, primitive Saint Stephen’s Chapel that was on the premises of the Retreat Center we went to, I suddenly realized that Cecilia might speak again.

“Oh, no,” I exclaimed! “I didn’t bring any tissue,” I whined to my new friend, Lynn, another “hover mother” chaperone.

After digging into the pocket of her coat, she dragged out a crumpled napkin. “I didn’t use this side,” she offered.

“I absolutely refuse to cry again,” I said, looking askance. She kept the napkin on her knee.

After Mass, just as I so dreaded, Cecilia got up to speak to the girls again. I closed my eyes and willed myself not to cry. I even glanced out the window at the pouring rain and listened to the pinging as it splattered on the tin roof. But my ears were glued to Cecilia. And before I knew it, I was cupping my ears to make sure I could hear every word (I was in the far back and she speaks softly). And dang it, after a few minutes, I was snatching that napkin from Lynn’s knee and trying to prevent my mascara from running down my face!

I need to figure out what the Holy Spirit is trying to tell me.