Pourquoi Je Suis Ici (Why I'm Here)

Loué Jésus-Christ!

Where to begin?

On January 18th, 2021, I commenced my travel to the Mission St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus in Mouila, Gabon, to volunteer as a nurse. The beginning of my travel, however, was not the beginning of my journey, just as my arrival home on June 21st, 2021, was not the end. In between was an experience that has changed my life and, I believe, has truly made me a better person.

My purpose with this blog is simply to share my story, my love of Africa, missionary life and all that entails (the French language not excepted). I hope it brings you a little happiness, inspiration -- whatever God sees fit that you take from it.

Please, ask questions! If you would like to ask me something, please leave a comment and I will either reply to it directly or use it as inspiration for a post. Thank you all, and may God bless you and Our Lady keep you.

In Christ the King,

Sarah

Comments

A Tribute to Canon Fragelli

Canon Henrique Fragelli, who rebuilt and revitalized the Mission Ste. Thérèse de l'Enfant Jésus since 2012, died this morning in Brazil. His health had been fragile ever since contracting covid in May 2021, requiring a prolonged hospitalization and a double lung transplant. He had recently established a new mission in Rio de Janeiro at the invitation of the archbishop; today, as was noted by the Prior General of the Institute to be the first day of the month of St. Joseph, patron of a happy death, the Lord called him back to Himself. I can only imagine the mourning at his beloved mission. For my part, I have a few personal memories: -- Canon working with me to arrange my mission trip; offering me his arm when I nearly collapsed upon my arrival and later calling my mom to let her know I had arrived; teasing me: about my ridiculous facial expression when he was taking a picture, about making hamburgers because I'm American; urging courage and patience with learning French; simpl...

Here I am, for Thou Hast Called Me

Bon Dimanche! I was awakened by a knock on my door. It was Martha, coming to get me for dinner. Dinner at the Mission was at 7:30. Because of our proximity to the equator, Martha's and my walk across the lawn was in the dark. Sunrise was at six a.m., sunset at six p.m. She first took me to the kitchen, where I met those who, in addition to Martha, were to become closest to me over the next five months: Maman Noëline, her ten-year-old son Marc Antoine, and Faith Frances (pictured above, farthest right), a postulant whom I later learned is from Nigeria. I also met Angelique, the nurse who runs the dispensary, but I don't remember if it was right then. Once dinner was ready, we took our places in the refrectory, easier to show than describe: The priests sat at the head table. Two candidates and two oblates sat at the first table to the right, two candidates and one oblate at the table to the left. The oblate who was serving that evening sat at the small table, with one o...

Tasty Reptiles, as well as The Great Air France Booking Debacle, part 2

The Sunday after Ascension, we got news that Canon Fragelli was in a medically-induced coma and that there were plans to fly him to Florence. It must have been around this time that I realized I was very unlikely to see him again before I left, as I had five weeks left at the mission. Anyway, on that Sunday morning, May 16th, I was minding my own business, walking up to the kitchen, when I saw Gerard, Gabriel and Dieu-Vivant with a couple of plastic basins. My first reaction was that they had gone fishing (they had done that not long before). Then I saw the lizard. They called it "iguane", but it was far larger than what we would consider an iguana. Gerard held it out to me and I felt the scales, but what they really wanted was a picture of me holding it by the tail. Lunch, anyone? While I was working in the kitchen, Dieu-Vivant came in with a basin holding the liver and 18 eggs from the lizard (I have a picture but I'll spare you). The shells were very soft and gave in...

Loving Africa

Search This Blog