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A nun's faith is rewarded when her bond with her departed mother is confirmed.
Everything in my life seemed better when Mom was around to share it. She loved to hear the details of my day, whether I had a funny story about one of the other nuns in my order, or good news about one of my students at the school where I taught.
“When beautiful things happen to you, it’s like they happen to me too,” she always said.
Ever since her death I kept her picture nearby, taped to the wall above the headboard on my bed. One night I stayed up late grading papers. I leaned back against the headboard and straightened the pile.
Tucked among the tests was a note from a teenaged student. “Dear Sister Josephine,” it said. “Thank you for all you’ve done to help me be a better person.”
I held the note over my head, level with the photo of Mother. As if she can actually read it, I thought. How silly! I had to laugh at myself.
A breeze blew in the window. I heard a faint crinkling above my head. Like a mosquito walking through cellophane. Something fluttered down through the air and landed on the pillow next to my head.
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Mom! With a little help from an angel, she still shared everything with me.
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