November is a shifty month in which we celebrate all saints and then all souls, we close the end of one church year and hail the beginning of another, we welcome a long-awaited change in weather, turn our clocks, and try to keep peace in the frenetic pace of being sandwiched between holidays.

Perhaps strangely, the end of October and shift to November in the school year can be one of the more challenging times as the freshness wears off, work grinds on, and bumps appear in a seemingly once-smooth path. Beyond the school day, as a runner I’m also keenly aware of the darkness encroaching on the day.

I’ve been thinking about darkness the past couple weeks as we wrestle through the harder part of the school year. Last week, I sought some quiet time in the chapel to sit with the Lord and pray about some of the larger bumps of the week and year. When I entered, the front lights were off, so the stained-glass windows stood empty and dark, just shadows and outlines seemingly void of their beauty. Our stained-glass windows, relics of the old Ursuline convent, always to me have been a loving reminder of the lives and hearts of the Ursuline sisters who sustained this place through their prayer. Without a thought, I flipped the switch which illuminated and brought to life the vibrantly colored panes and the stories they represent. As I sat there, allowing the Lord to be with me, I couldn’t take my eyes off one window. I thought again about the flipping of the switch, a demonstration of the dichotomy of darkness and light apparent through the transformation of the stained-glass windows. And I took notice that the stained-glass windows shine when they are backlit.

We would be lying to ourselves if we thought we were immune to times of darkness. But while there is darkness, there also is hidden beauty that the darkness cannot overcome. The stained-glass windows shine when they are backlit. I hold a truth in my bones that when there is darkness, we are backlit by our community and the tribe of women and men in our lives who stand behind us. For both St. Angela and St. Ursula who experienced deep wounds and darkness, they intentionally surrounded themselves with women who would keep vigil and stand behind them as lights on the darkest nights. I think about my own times of darkness and brokenness and the women who have held me, taken my hands and prayed with me, those who reached out and offered words of hope and a showering of acts of kindness. Community doesn’t just sustain us, but it backlights us to return to us a beauty not indefinitely lost but just temporarily hidden.

The stained-glass windows shine when they are backlit.

Toward the end of October, we were blessed to hear alumnae Nono Osuji '99 and Megan Nauslar Neitzel '99 tell their shared story – a story of darkness and pain but resounding with the victory of women who were light, the women who stood behind Nono, who poured themselves out in love, who radiated the healing power of community. We heard from Megan a testimony of how God called her to be light and how she stepped back in humility and service to be a sister in faith. Please read their stories – they have far more valuable things to say about this than I do! I also urge you to talk about their stories with your daughter! While I sat there in the chapel looking at this one window, I thought of St. Angela, of St. Ursula, of the Ursuline Sisters, and of Nono and Megan.

^{Nono Osuji '99 and Megan Neitzel '99}

That stained-glass window which held my gaze in the chapel reads, “A community will be a sign of God’s love for man…” When darkness settles in, it is normal for the heart to cry out and ask where God possibly could be. But faith tells us that if we do not tire in seeking Him, we will find He has always been there… the graces, goodness, hope, mercy, kindness, healing, and power meet us through the light of community. Even in the wreckage of this year’s tragedies, a community is the backlighting that holds us up and reminds us of God’s love for man.

I’m not sure who needs to hear this, but the beauty is always there, just as with the windows.

I’m not sure who needs to hear this, but someone is waiting for you, your gifts, your heart, your compassion to help them find that beauty again. May we stand behind each other, light up the darkness, and become for each other a visible sign of God’s love for humanity.

“A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

John 1:5

With hope,

Mandy Briones

Dean of Students

^{"A community will be a sign of God's love for man and witness of the Eternal Kingdom."}