A journey of love, commitment and mystery

by Sister Gloria Valdovinos, CSC

Ever since my preschool days, I knew I was called by God even though I didn't understand its meaning. I can recall clearly standing in front of my mother, who was seated, and resting my arms on her knees saying, "One day I'm going to go far away, too, and die for God." Mother had frequently read stories of the saints and martyrs, and I would listen intently wanting to be like them. So young, yet so moved to be like them.

Dad would take me often to church for Mass and night adoration. There, slowly and deeply, the call came and stayed. I don't remember a day going by when Dad didn't bless us before the picture of the Sacred Heart in our living room before we left the house.

My dad was born in Sayula and my mother in Colima, Mexico. It was not until after the deaths of my parents, as a religious, that I had the great privilege of visiting their homeland and most of my relatives, and experiencing our rich heritage. There I visited the Shrine of our Lady of Guadalupe with my dear friend, Sister Elizabeth Panero, CSC. I did not know then what a powerful impression Mary would have on my life.

My earliest years of education were received in the public school system due to my dad's low income. When I was entering the fifth grade, my brother and I attended Beverly Hills Catholic School, which was staffed by the Sisters of the Holy Cross. It was here that my childhood dream became clear. One day a visiting sister from East Pakistan, now Bangladesh, came to the school. When Sister Francelia, CSC, entered the classroom and spoke to us about her missionary life, I knew God was calling me to help the poor and powerless. The tiny seed planted in my childhood days began to sprout and grow. I knew then I would someday become a Sister of the Holy Cross.

In 1948 I graduated from the eighth grade and entered Catholic Girl's High School in Los Angeles. By this time, my dad had received his license as a chiropractor, making it possible for me to continue my high school education. The following May, my mother died. It was a great sorrow for each of us, but especially for my dad. I took over the care of my family and learned how to cook and manage our home.

Gloria with her father before entering the novitiate in 1952

At the end of my junior year in 1951, I entered the Sisters of the Holy Cross at Saint Mary's, Notre Dame, Indiana, with three graduating seniors. In 1952, as well as being received as a novice, I received my high school diploma and in 1954 I began teaching first grade, always remembering my dream of being a missionary.

When I arrived in the United States, I was surprised to learn that my dad was dying. I was able to spend time with him until his death on February 29, 1972. In the interim, I began a new ministry in Sacramento, California, with Mexican-Americans.

A tremendous zeal to help these people motivated me to organize them and get them off to a successful start. My Spanish, which was rusty because of my nine years away, blossomed again. After careful discernment, I made a decision to stay and continue assisting the Spanish-speaking people of Sacramento until 1977. From there, I spent some time in ministry in Woodland and Ventura, California, before going to Seattle, Washington, as a parish minister.

Searching for a good spiritual director, I was blessed with one in Seattle where I was encouraged to listen more intently to my heart and God's plans for me for the future. Deeply interested in assisting others in their spiritual journey, I made plans to study for retreat work and spiritual direction. In 1980 I found myself in the Spiritual Life Center in Narragansett, Rhode Island, experiencing an intense year of internship that prepared me for a ministry that to this day fills me with joy, peace and energy.

While searching for a retreat center in which to serve, I ministered to mostly Spanish-speaking Hispanic parishioners as director of parish outreach at the Bishop Glass Center in Salt Lake City. I facilitated home visitations for more than 600 families, spiritually directed both lay and religious, and conducted days of recollection for lay and religious within that diocese. Then, in 1983, I was called to serve for a year as administrator of Our Lady of the Mountains Retreat House in Ogden, Utah. Following that experience, I served as director of Mary's Solitude Prayer Center at Saint Mary's, Notre Dame, Indiana, and was at the summit of joy in ministry with a desire to study further in my field of spiritual direction. I remained at Mary's Solitude until 1988.

From time to time the Lord gave me a tug whenever I met our missionaries from Bangladesh. Their simplicity and detachment strongly pulled at my heart. One day in 1986, just in passing, I said to our superior general, "I miss the simplicity and poverty of Bangladesh." To my surprise, two years later, I was asked to return to Bangladesh, which was a very difficult discernment for me. From the moment I was asked I knew the answer, but I didn't want to let go of my ministry and studies. One evening at Mass I heard the words from Ecclesiastes 3:1 saying, "There is a time for giving birth and a time for dying, a time for losing and a time for keeping." Nothing else was needed; I knew I was going to return.

God had now placed me among crowds of people and constant noise in Dhaka. Most incredible for me was that I found and experienced God in the crowded streets and buses, and in the people and surroundings that encircled me. Slowly I started a spiritual direction group of priests, brothers, sisters and laity, and entered into daily spiritual direction with religious and laity. Later, in 1991, I was assigned as mistress of novices for our Bengali women in Savar, Bangladesh. Happiness filled my whole being as I reentered into journeying with women in their life with God as religious.

In 1997 I suffered a serious accident. The front wheel of a rickshaw in which I was riding collapsed and I was thrown to the pavement, breaking seven bones. It was necessary for me to return to the United States for treatment and therapy. This marked the beginning of changes in my health that would determine another life-altering decision in the future. On returning to Bangladesh after the accident, I left my work in the novitiate in 1999 and traveled to the hills in Kulaura. There I taught English to eighth graders and seminarians for two years, and directed young sisters in the life of our Congregation.

In May 2001, when I returned to the United States for my home visit, the doctor told me for the third time that it was best for me not return to Bangladesh. I was given the same advice each time I came home, but this time I heard it loud and clear. Again I prayed for the grace I needed to respond to my community in Bangladesh and to myself, since I felt guilty about not returning. Seeking some counseling, I searched deeply and honestly, answering questions I needed to answer. Again I heard the same words from Ecclesiastes, and once more I responded to God's words in my heart to risk again and let go of all I loved and held dear. In response, I found an inner peace and calmness.

Searching for a ministry seemed endless, and extreme patience was necessary. After calling centers of prayer for months and months, day and night, I finally received a lead from one of our sisters who knew I was looking for a new ministry. Through Sister Dolores Jean Bray, CSC, who was a case manager for Catholic Charities OASIS in Ventura, California, I learned there was an opening for a case manager to work with seniors, ages 60 and over. I accepted the challenge and again entered into Hispanic areas where my Spanish would be used daily. I feel deeply that it is here that Our Lady of Guadalupe has called me to minister through her son to my Hispanic people.

My work has blossomed and God's grace leads me now and into the future. The tiny seed that was planted in my heart as a child has grown into a mustard tree. I love my community now more than ever and am grateful for all that I have received.

My journey has been one of love, commitment and mystery. My prayer each day is to live God's gift of the day to the fullest. As I reflect on my life history and my vocation to Holy Cross, I am in awe and full of gratitude as I remember the words of the Epistle of St. John, Chapter 1, "…what we have heard…, what we have seen…, what we have touched…, the Word, who is life – this is our subject." I have experienced the wonder of God and I long to share what I have seen, heard and touched with those who have crossed and will yet cross my path.