There are seminal moments in life where priorities are forced into sharper focus. A serious medical diagnosis, a major milestone in life, or a traumatic situation can re-orient our focus to what is truly important. We, as a community, have navigated these moments together in the recent and not-so-recent past with faith, compassion, and sincere concern for each other. And in the midst of those devastating moments there has been great beauty and great love.
We currently have another opportunity to minister to our hurting community members. We have suffered the untimely loss of one of the founding members of our school. Mrs. Ann Stout was taken from this life on the evening of December 3, leaving her beloved husband of 49 years, Greg, and her treasured family behind – Maria, Jeremy (Jacqueline), Jacob (Keri), Rachel, Monica, Dominic, and Julia, along with six grandchildren. Ann was a passionate and devout Catholic, writer, crafter extraordinaire, historian for Mount Royal Academy, St. Patrick’s Church, and Newport, NH, and a cherished friend of many people here at the school. Her sudden and unexpected departure leaves us all reeling and trying to make sense of this tragedy.
Especially during Advent.
We readily recognize Lent as a penitential season, but not so much with Advent. Even though we may see the purple vestments and altar cloths at Mass, we still mostly associate Advent with lights, decorations, and joyful anticipation – all of which are right and just! However, Advent is a season of preparation and has a penitential nature to it. We are preparing our hearts to receive Jesus.
Our grief has a fitting place in our Advent preparations. We prepare our hearts by prioritizing our lives to reflect our desire to achieve the greatest good – our entry into heaven. Through suffering and sorrow our gaze sharpens and all that is superfluous or unnecessary in our lives falls away. This is the perfect interior disposition by which to prepare our hearts.
Ann’s son, Dominic, remarked the other night, “She knew where she was going.” Ann was not longing for death, but she knew where her final destination was supposed to be and lived her life accordingly with daily Mass, prayer, adoration, and prioritizing the things of God. Her soul was in a good place. We might be tempted to argue with God about his timing in taking Ann so soon, but He knows when the fruit is ripe for the picking; His ways are inscrutable and always perfect.
Knowing these things, however, does not alleviate our sorrow. We do well to remember that God never did promise to take away our sufferings, He didn’t even spare his own Son (“My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me” Matthew 26:39), but he did promise to be with us through them. (“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9).
After all, the cross always comes with Jesus on it.
But, it’s Advent and we are preparing for the most joyful time of the year.
Perhaps we can find solace and meaning in the fact that it is possible for joy and sorrow to occupy the same space. We celebrate the gift of Jesus being born to save us from our sins, yet in order to do that, he has to die. A young mother lovingly presents her newborn son in the Temple, and receives a prophecy that his mission will cause a sword of sorrow to pierce her heart. We mourn the loss of a beloved wife, mother, and friend, yet are lifted by the hope that she will be spending her first Christmas in the presence of God.
Memento Mori.
We can prepare to live well by remembering we must eventually die, by turning our gaze heavenward. Ann did this. May we also live our lives such that upon our death our children can say, “She knew where she was going.”
Thank you, Ann, for the gift of our school, your gifts to the school, and to each of us.
Eternal rest grant unto Ann, O Lord,
and let Your perpetual light shine upon her.
May her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God,
rest in peace.
Amen. – Mrs. Lisa Sweet, Academic Dean
