Who’s in Charge?

Margaret Steinhage Fenelon. Oh, I can just picture him, sitting across the table from me, doodling words and symbols on his notepad and with a playful glint in his eyes. I’m in a snit about one thing or another, indignantly raging about something gone wrong in my life, and looking for justification, direction, and rectification. My spiritual director smiles, sets his pen down, leans back in his chair, and looks me in the eye.

“Who’s in charge?” he asks with perfect calmness.

This isn’t exactly what I wanted to hear. I heave a deep sigh.

“She’s in charge,” I answer him back.

“Who’s in charge?” he asks me again.

I sigh even harder this time. “She’s in charge.” I answer back again.

“Who’s in charge?”

“She’s in charge.”

The round of question-sigh-answer repeats multiple times, until I’m almost to the end of my rope. “She’s in charge!” I loudly exclaim.

“Good,” Fr. Jonathan placidly responds. He sits forward, picks up his pen, and starts thoughtfully doodling again. “Now, where were we?” he asks with a huge, warm grin.

We’ve played this scene countless times over the past many years – in his visiting room, bumping into each other at Schoenstatt or other events, and even via email once he’d been transferred to another location. Somewhere intertwined in our greeting and small talk would emerge, “Who’s in charge?” “She’s in charge.” My email messages would be pages long; Fr. Jonathan’s response might be anywhere from a paragraph to a page or so long, but somehow he’d manage to squeeze in, “Who’s in charge?”

To live the Covenant of Love

This was Father’s masterful way of working with me, of helping me to live to the fullest the Covenant of Love I made long ago with our Blessed Mother. It drove home in me the reality that, when we make a covenant with someone, we surrender ourselves completely, permanently, to the other. On May 15, 1977, Mary and I surrendered to each other, and from that moment on, I’ve put her in charge of every aspect of my life. Fr. Jonathan knew this, and he also knew that the key to helping me get through anything was to remind me that I’d put our Blessed Mother in charge of everything and that she’d take perfect care with her powerful intercession (omnipotent intercession, Father Kentenich would say), if only I’d take a breath once in a while and let her.

Crumbled apostolate? Betrayed or defamed?

Crumbled apostolate? Who’s in charge? She’s in charge. Betrayed or defamed? Who’s in charge? She’s in charge. Health or financial hardships? Who’s in charge? She’s in charge. Uncertainty ahead? Who’s in charge? She’s in charge. Misunderstood by superiors or loved ones? Who’s in charge? She’s in charge.

Fr. Jonathan wasn’t trying to put off my concerns; in fact, he charitably and patiently validated them. The doodling always ended up to be some kind of little chart or diagram that would visually represent the situation and act as a reminder for me over the coming weeks – until I was geared up for another rant. His goal was to get me to see that everything, everything that happens is in God’s plan and that, with Mary at the helm, my ship will sail unperturbed in even the most viciously turbulent waters. She is Queen of all, and she will be victorious over all.

My successes belong to our Mother Thrice Admirable, too

He used this method also to remind me that, because of my covenant, my successes belong to our Mother Thrice Admirable, too.

New book published? Who’s in charge? She’s in charge. Nailed that presentation? Who’s in charge? She’s in charge. Tricky problem solved? Who’s in charge? She’s in charge? Discord mended? Who’s in charge? She’s in charge.

As I face some of the biggest challenges I`ve yet to face…

So, now as I face some of the biggest challenges I’ve yet to face so far, I’m finding myself running an on-going, internal chant: ‘Who’s in charge? She’s in charge. Who’s in charge? She’s in charge. Who’s…,” over and over again, round and round throughout the day, like one of those advertising jingles that you can’t get out of your head. Only, this time, I’m grateful I can’t get it out of my head and I’m hoping it’ll sink into my heart.

Fr. Jonathan, having lost a battle with lung cancer some months back, isn’t here in person to echo the lines with me. Nevertheless, I can still see him sitting across from me, his eyes glinting, pen doodling on the pad, a warm smile spreading across his face. And I can still hear his voice, clear as ever. “Who’s in charge?” She’s in charge. She’ll always be in charge.