by Stephanie Brown
I will spend my Heaven doing good on earth.-St. Thérèse of Lisieux
The hagiographies were on a shelf next to the guest bathroom on the way to the garage.
We had once been that kind of family.
St. Thérèse the Little Flower had three sisters. As did I.
My spiritual longing shed tears,
Then I smelled roses in the air around my ears and I rejoiced.
I was filled with peace, her story in my lap.
A sister’s devotion weighed her down like a deep depression.
She sat on the stairs with arms around her knees.
Deep in her prayer, I watched her.
Another sister was motherly and administrative, like Thérèse’s soeur Pauline.
And there was one who would struggle all her life.
And that would not be me.
But no one in our house could be a saint or a mystic.
Sisters talked like I was not in the room, and bribed me with candy bars.
There were visions; boys who looked like Jesus.
Wasn’t I there, coloring, eating my candy bars?
Sisters fought and held it all against each other, and then were gone
To separate houses, to separate orders, to separate hearts.
We have been invisible to each other for the rest of our years.
But back then, how I loved them like a little sister!
*Photo courtesy Alpha.