This week, our church calendar remembers a mother and daughter duo who were transformed together—Paula and Eustochium of Rome. Paula had five children before she was widowed at 32, after which she began exploring her own faith more intently. Her daughter Eustochium accompanied her on a pilgrimage, which landed them in Bethlehem, where they would build a monastery/retreat center and hostel. Paula devoted herself completely to this ministry and lived her life in devotion to God in the way that worked for her in that time and place. When Paula died, Eustochium took up the helm of Paula’s ministry and became a real source of theological wisdom for Saint Jerome.
Immediately upon reading their story, Paula’s religious exploration after the death of her husband resonated with me. Many people—myself included—do a lot of searching for meaning after a significant loss in their lives. For me, it was after my mom died when I was 17. I gradually began attending church again and sought out God, and by the time I was 19, I had spent a summer at an Episcopal retreat center as a camp counselor. After that summer, something changed within me. I couldn’t have known what the future would hold exactly, but I knew that I would be pursuing God, and trying to live my life in accordance with God’s purpose for my life, for the rest of my life.
Looking back on that transformative summer of 2013, eleven years later, I remember the campfire magic, the shooting stars, the singing in chapel, the laughter that came and came and came until we were breathless and sore. I remember the messy crafts, the unbelievably hot, still air on ropes course days, and the agony of rinsing out the 25th tie-dye t-shirt. I remember the comfort of an old mattress in an un-air-conditioned building after weeks of giving all I had and how that was the best sleep I’ve ever experienced. These were all of the little places where God was showing up. These were the moments when my life was being transformed. And still today, these are what give me strength when the administrative work of the Church overshadows the kingdom-building work of the Gospel.
Looking back also leaves me wondering, what were those moments for Paula? What did she experience during her religious exploration and pilgrimage in the year 382 that inspired her with such conviction to resettle in a new place, build a monastery, and lead it? Did she also look up at the night sky and see a shooting star? Did she also sing and dance with new friends along her journey? Did she, too, lay down on a deeply uncomfortable surface and yet sleep as well as she ever had? Those were all possibilities back then, too, so it’s almost tangible now, I can almost see it.
But wait – what was it like to go through all of that with your daughter??!?
While I, of course, didn’t have my own mother with me that summer and still do not have any children of my own, I did have my dear cousin, who served alongside me as a fellow camp counselor. She had been the one to recommend that I look into the job in the first place; without her prompting, none of this would have happened the way it did.
Speaking from personal experience, I can say that having someone who knew me so well and for so long accompany me through a time of deep spiritual nourishment and growth was of paramount importance. My ability to both feel safe enough to experience the growth I was having and be able to recognize it as growth in real time was thanks to her presence there with me. I also was able to incorporate that change into my post-camp life because someone who would continue to be in my life saw it happen. I just don’t think I could have done it alone, and I wonder if Paula would say that she could have.
Now, I won’t pretend that the cosmic impact of my transformation is the same as Paula’s—while my first summer working at the Claggett Center as a camp counselor is undeniably what led me to become a priest and be the person I am today, Paula’s transformation led to her urging Saint Jerome to create the Latin Vulgate Bible, whose impact within Christianity as a global religion cannot be measured.
That said, when I look at our stories and consider with wonder what key ingredients Paula and I may have shared, I notice a few commonalities.
I notice that we both had great love, and great loss in our lives.
I notice that we both got really curious, and chose to dive into our curiosity and wonder.
I notice that we both brought people we loved along on the way.
I notice that we both embraced the adventure we found ourselves living.
I notice that we both landed in roles that previous versions of ourselves couldn’t have imagined.
And so, after all of this noticing and reflecting on my own life, I wonder, for you, reader.
I wonder if you’ve had great love, and great loss.
I wonder if you’re getting curious, and if you’ll dive into it.
I wonder who you might bring along for the ride.
I wonder what embracing transformation will look like for you.
I wonder where, beyond your wildest dreams, you’ll land.
Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons
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