From the Heart is a space for the reflections of our staff on issues that matter to them, to our network, and most importantly, to those we walk alongside.
This month, Jocelyne Nicolas, a member of our Communications team, shares her thoughts on hope, compassion and the women she’s met in her work with us who remind her of what counts.
When I met Elder Mae Louise Campbell on a frosty Monday afternoon in December, we had an hour together to talk about the Clan Mothers Healing Village. We spoke of the vision she has for a healing space for Indigenous women, but our conversation meandered to the challenges that our country is starting to face together: divisiveness, mistrust, fear. At one point, when discussing the role all Canadians have in reconciliation, she said to me, “We must start with truth. There can be no love without truth. There can be no respect without truth.”
A few months later, I found myself sitting in the living room of the House of Peace in downtown Winnipeg, which is featured in this month’s e-newsletter. Sister Lesley Sacouman gave me a tour of their chapel, their community spaces and the living quarters where she and 20 other women, all refugees or immigrants, are building new lives for themselves and their families. Everything in their building has been donated, often by very generous and wealthy people. When touring the renovated dining room, one such donor said, “This is nicer than what I have at home!” Sister Sacouman replied, “And why wouldn’t it be?”
She knows she was being cheeky, but her point was made; immigrants and refugees deserve a beautiful and love-filled home, too. She explained to me, “I know it was a bit bold to say, but the donor had become a friend, and if I can’t speak the truth to a friend, who can?” I smiled at her feistiness, but also thought of Elder Campbell.
I recently spent some time with Sister Mary Coswin and Sister Dorothy Levandosky of the Order of St. Benedict’s. They are preparing to transition to a new home and have sold their monastery in West St. Paul to Southeast Resource Development Corporation, an Indigenous group who plan to house and offer important supports to their people. For the Sisters, it’s full circle. “We saw that the work they wanted to do was in line with the work we’ve done over the years,” explains Sister Coswin. “In my heart, I didn’t feel like this sale was going to be the end of the centre, and now we know it won’t.”
“We found arrows on the riverbank nearby, you know,” adds Sister Levandosky. “Indigenous people were here long before us, and it feels right that the land is going back to them.”
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I’ve found great solace in these stories, and with these women. I’m also struck by all the commonalities between them. They focus on truth, interconnectedness, providence, and hope. No matter their backgrounds, these women each decided to be catalysts of change in their communities, often equipped with nothing more than the belief that all would be well.
When I shared some of my thoughts on colonialism with Elder Campbell, worried I may be overstepping as a non-Indigenous person, she said, “Yes, my girl, you’ve got it,” and I felt acceptance.
When Sister Levandosky and I talked about our hopes and dreams for the future, Sister Coswin listened quietly before telling me she knew I was going to get everything I needed, and I felt hope.
When I admitted to Sister Sacouman that while I don’t practice the Catholic faith, I sometimes think I’d have been a great nun, she smiled at me. “You are a woman of faith, you know. You’re one of us,” and I felt belonging.
These women have been a gift to me in trying times. They’re a reminder of the ties that bind, and the power of seeing each other as we truly are. It’s easy to forget, when you watch the news, that this world is actually full of people who care, and who lead the way with hope and compassion. They’re still here, and they always will be.