Reading Mother Teresa--In all things

“Commit to the Lord whatever you do. . . .” Proverbs 16:3 

“But one thing I beg of you: pray always for me. For that you do not need special time – because our work is our prayer. . . .” Mother Teresa

LuAnn Arceneaux makes several appearances in Andre Dubus’ final book of short stories, Dancing after Hours, but perhaps her most memorable is in “Out of the Snow,” when, armed only with instinct, guts, and a frying pan, she dispatches two would-be rapists who follow her home from the market.

LuAnn’s marriage is not without its scary moments, but their lives, outlined in the stories, grow slowly stronger, as does their commitment, in part because of LuAnn’s maturing Roman Catholic faith. Dubus, who died some time ago, was a practicing Catholic, but he is no saint – for sure, no saint. His son, Andre Dubus III, makes that very clear in his memoir, Townie.

No matter, Dubus the elder’s story “Out of the Snow” is a memorable gift of grace. Before the astounding pasting she puts on the creeps who tail her home, LuAnn tells her husband that she has begun to understand that “she must be five again” to be “like Saint Therese of Lisieux, who knew at a very young age that the essence of life was to be found in the simplest of tasks.”

At breakfast, LuAnn sees her work as sacrament:

Watching the brown sugar bubbling in the light of the flames, smelling it and the cinnamon, and listening to her family talking about snow, she told herself that this toast and oatmeal were a sacrament, the physical form that love assumed in this moment, as last night’s lovemaking was, as most of her actions were. When she was able to remember this and concentrate on it, she knew the significance of what she was doing; as now, using a pot holder, she drew the pan from the oven, then spooned the oatmeal into bowls her family came from the dining room to receive from her hands.

That’s the frying pan she will wield to rout her bozo attackers just a few hours later.

LuAnn’s quest to see her work and life as sacrament is, I believe, what Mother Teresa means when she tells her former confessor in a letter that she needs his prayers, but that he needn’t spend any special time praying “because our work is our prayer.” Later, she would tell others, “Work is not prayer; prayer is not work, but we must pray the work for Him, with Him and to Him” (364).

I wish I were adept at doing that. I wish it were easier. I wish my eyes were open to see a frying pan as a means of grace, because Mother Teresa isn’t wrong. Seeing our lives as holy makes all the difference, whether or not our would-be attackers are routed.

This morning, I’m thankful for LuAnn Arceneaux and Mother Teresa for pointing so enduringly at the true blessing of nothing less than grace itself, grace not simply in the beyond, but in the here and now, in the dust in which we live, in the dust of which we are.