It was during the height of the Covid-19 Pandemic, and even as religious sisters we could not have the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. My heart was in such agony, and I longed to have a priest come to the convent again to be able to celebrate Mass for us.
It is one of my most vivid and painful memories from my time spent in the convent; especially when my novice mistress simply could not understand the incredible hurt that overwhelmed me. I would weep each night longing to see the Face of our Eucharistic Lord at Mass, and to receive Him at Holy Communion.
Every morning the large projector would be set up in the Chapel and as a community we would watch different Masses being live-streamed each day. It simply was not the same, and more and more as the months passed onward I felt this deep and sorrowful pain becoming more and more embedded within my soul. It was during the Triduum, and Easter Sunday, that I simply felt unconsolable, when we could not celebrate as a Church the holiest of days in the Catholic Liturgical year.
I remember sitting in the Chapel reflecting on Psalm 13, especially the words, “How long, O Lord?” As I remained in the empty sacred space I gazed upon the altar wondering when we would be able to “break bread” together again. I would close my eyes and imagine the priest celebrating Mass again, and how joyous that day would be when it arrived. But the truth is I did not know, no one knew when we would have Mass again.
I prayed and prayed that the Lord could bring peace to my heart while these terrible days seemed relentless and never-ending. It felt like this black cloud remained hovering over my head, and I could not escape the sadness that overpowered me. I simply could not shake the feeling of grief, a profound sorrow that enveloped my whole being. When was this seemingly dark night going to end?
I recall one day sitting at the table during meal time when all of a sudden I heard the Superior shouting for us to go outside. I was perplexed, and this was definitely something that we had never done before in the convent prior to this afternoon. I thought to myself, “Why were we leaving the dining hall to go outside?”
As I opened the glass doors and poked my head to look upward towards the parking lot, I saw a black car pulled alongside the front of the Chapel. As I walked up the stairs I saw the pastor of the local parish standing there with his sunglasses on his face, and a beaming smile. Within his hands he was holding a golden monstrance that was shining brightly in the sunlight. There in the center of the golden sunbeam was the Blessed Sacrament.
I immediately dropped to my knees upon the concrete pavement right at the top of the stairs, and gazed upon the Face of our Eucharistic Lord. An immense feeling of peace radiated from the depth of my soul, and I myself could not stop smiling as tears welled up within my eyes. A sea of blue habits surrounded me as little by little other Sisters, one by one began to join me in Adoration along the walkway.
We could not have the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, but God still brought a priest to the convent, and that priest brought my beloved Jesus to me. I relished in those moments even if it was only for a short while, and I was reminded how God never abandons us. Our loving Father always knows what we need, and He knew exactly what I needed that afternoon. I will never forget that miraculous day.