By Don Stubbings, Director of SCL Associates
The country music duo Brooks and Dunn wrote the song “Red Dirt Road.” It’s a catchy song telling the story of growing up on those red dirt roads in the country. The words include this important lyric: “It’s where I found Jesus.”
My road trip visit to Associate Thala Wilson took me to Oklahoma City, and along the way on I-35, the transition from the Kansas Flint Hills to the iron-filled, red dirt is distinct and famous enough to inspire songs and cover the cars in an unmistakable dust, leaving no doubt that you are in Oklahoma, and this is also where I found Jesus, weeping Jesus.
Thala and I met for lunch, and she shared how she was invited to be an Associate by now-deceased Sister Marie Helen Grieshaber (1931-2017), a teacher at St. James School in Oklahoma City. I have since learned that over thirty Sisters served as teachers or as Principals and were part of educating and serving the children at St. James School.
Sadly, for the last thirty years, the city where so many Sisters served has a new identity. On April 19, 1995, at 9:02 a.m., a domestic terrorist attack took the lives of 168 people. This day changed the identity of this wonderful city forever.
Thala made sure that visiting the memorial park was part of our gathering. As you enter the Memorial, you see two gates of time: 9:02, when tragedy struck, and 9:03, when the healing began. Within the memorial, there are 168 bronze chairs, which are known as the Field of Empty Chairs. Nineteen of these chairs are smaller, representing the nineteen children who died in the blast.
I had shared with Thala earlier the personal connection I had to this tragedy. One of the 19 Children who were killed was Kayla Titsworth, the daughter of my sergeant in the United States Army, William Titsworth. We served together at Fort Riley, Kansas. Later, he was reassigned to Oklahoma City as a recruiter. Thala found Kayla’s chair; it was a somber moment. On the day of the bombing, William was in the building with Kayla and his wife, Gloria, there to learn about his new assignment. William and Gloria survived. Kayla did not.
Knowing this, the Memorial changed for me. It was no longer only a place of history. It became a place of faces and names with a personal connection. As Thala and I walked quietly through the grounds, I realized how the world can become very small very quickly. What had once arrived on April 19, 1995, as global news narrowed into national tragedy, then smaller again, became something personal.
Across the street, near St. Joseph Old Cathedral, another memorial stands, a statue of Jesus, his hand covering his face, weeping. The sculpture, titled And Jesus Wept, was erected by the Archdiocese in 1999 to honor the 168 lives lost. The powerful statue allows you to pause before you enter the memorial.
Associate gatherings are each unique. Some take place in rooms filled with Associates and Sisters; others are quieter, with a reservation for one. This gathering was special in many ways. The 350-mile drive back to the Mother House slowly reversed the landscape, from red dirt to the Flint Hills, as the sun set in the west. Along the way, there were reflective memories of the Sisters in Oklahoma City and of how each of us carries the Charism forward in our own way.
Note: Oklahoma City is home to two Associates, Thala Wilson and Winifred “Wini” Crim. Wini was unable to join us this time. Thala shared that she calls her daily, and I am sure our day will be shared in their special calls.
