Sister Torres offers compassion to elderly
by Elizabeth A. Perry
For
as long as she can remember Dominican Sister Lorraine Torres was so painfully
shy that she rarely talked to others and kept her head down all the time. One of
eight children, she went to St. Peter's School in Reserve, took her first steps
toward religious life at Rosaryviile when she was 14 and went straight into the
convent at 16.
"I was very comfortable being
quiet," she said. "People thought I was so holy because I walked
around looking at the ground, but that wasn't it — I was scared! It had
nothing to do with holiness."
It wasn't until she went to work as
pastoral minister at Chateau de Notre Dame at 52 that she began to face her
fears, and to bloom. It was the inspiration and unconditional love of the
residents, along with a lot of divine intervention, that enabled her to break
out of her shell and reach out to others. Today she talks a mile a minute and
says she's making up for lost time. She also talks to groups about her own
experience and invites them to open up to God and his unconditional love.
She began her teaching career in 1951 and
taught for 25 years. She taught for 15 years on the elementary level at schools
in New Orleans, including St. Matthias, Our Lady of Lourdes and St Leo the
Great. She also taught at St. Peter's, Reserve, and in Paulina.
She spent 10 years teaching at Dominican
High School before she began a career in health care.
Sister Torres said when the Vatican II
reforms began to be implemented in 1965, religious life experienced a shift away
from strict obedience to individualization. At 30, she resisted the freedom of
choice and expression that came with Vatican II. She signed up for a renewal
program at St. Scholastica convent, which was being offered by the Benedictines.
She thought the program would enable her to get back on track with a strict
prayer life, kind of like a second novitiate retreat.
What she got was a three-week retreat
very much in keeping with Vatican II reforms and was shocked when participants
were expected to talk to each other and share their views on different topics.
She said many of the participants were ready for this type of reflection, had
picked the leaders of their groups and were busy sharing. In contrast, her group
sat in silence, reluctant and unsure about giving up the old ways.
"It was a real eye-opener," she
said. "By the end of the three weeks we were the last small group to come
back to the big group."
After the retreat, Sister Torres began to
become more assertive and was challenged with the task of opening up to the
outside world. She said she had responded to the Church's call to come and
see," thinking that was enough, but now God was calling her to "go and
tell."
"Vatican II was a bigger challenge
for me than it was for many others," she said. "It involved change,
and that was a risk."
She went on to work in the sisters'
infirmary for 10 years until her father died and she returned to Reserve to take
care of her mother, while attending classes at Loyola. Overworked and stressed
out, she attended a retreat for health care workers in Houston, where she
experienced the spiritual awakening that would change her life.
"Unless you know God loves you
totally, you can do everything you want, but you're not free," she said.
"The freedom is in being who God created you to be. That finally clicked
for me 15 years ago at the end of a retreat. I finally let go of my fear enough
to take in and trust God. I had been redeemed. When I surrendered myself totally
to him, he freed me of my fears. I knew he loved me and that I was OK."
In 1987 she was offered a summer position
in the pastoral ministry department at Chateau de Notre Dame residence for
seniors, but she was reluctant to accept it because she wasn't sure she wanted
to go back to work in health care. She accepted the job on a temporary basis and
has stayed for 15 years. She serves as the sacristan, pastoral care chaplain
secretary, eucharistic minister, and she represents her department at medical
and family meetings.
"I was here for three weeks and
began to love and trust the joy people gave me," she said. "I was
totally accepted by the residents. My favorite floor was the dementia unit
because it proved again that being is more important than doing. All I had to do
was walk in and smile. People said, 'Thank you for saying good morning to
me.'"
Sister Torres said the two years her
mother lived at Chateau de Notre Dame were the best training she could ever have
had for dealing with the families of the residents. She said when one of her
sisters relieved her to come sit with their mother, Sister Torres would stick
around. Even though she knew her mother was well taken care of, she had a hard
time giving the responsibility to someone else. When family members call, she
draws on her own experience and is able to reassure them.
She said most of the residents in the
nursing home wing of Chateau de Notre Dame arrive at the end of their lives. One
elderly woman who was moving to the Northshore from New Orleans was worried that
God wouldn't be able to find her. Sister Torres told her not to worry, that God
was with her at the Chateau and also across the lake waiting for her. She gives
the same comfort to those facing their own mortality when their health declines.
"The facts may not change, but God
is with you before you get through tomorrow," she said. "Physically
you may get worse, but God is already there."
Sister Torres said her work at Chateau de
Notre Dame has taught her that what really matters in life isn't what people can
or can't do physically or mentally, but who they are.
"You are much more than what you can
do," she said. "These people show up for life every day. They aren't
even aware of the courage they give each other.
|
|
SISTER TORRES tells Chateau de Notre Dame residents that they
"are much more than what they can do."
Photo by Elizabeth A. Perry. |
