Come, Be with Me
Sister Marius was making her homeward-bound transition from life on this earth to life with the communion of saints—many of whom she knows. Sister Bernard, her dear friend, accompanied her by staying with her for many hours each day. At one point, S. Bernard began to tidy the top of the nearby chest of drawers, collect dishes that had accumulated, and rearrange the three chairs in the room. S. Marius caught her attention and asked, “What are you rummaging through?” S. Bernard explained her efforts to clear and organize the space. She added the question: “What would you like me to do?” S. Marius, looking at her intently, bid her, “Come, be with me.” *
“Come, be with me.” These words have been a mantra pulsing within me since S. Bernard told me of this incident. “Come, be with me” as I look out my window. The trees are parading in varied shades of green, yellow and tan. A squirrel is running by, struggling to hold a walnut in its mouth. Sparrows are competing for seeds at the feeder. I wonder how birds can dart into the nearby tree and not crash into the branches or tangle with the leaves.
“Come, be with me.” Be with myself when I feel the ache of loneliness, a human yearning for union with someone, with others, and God. “Come, be with me” as a friend reveals the news of her illness that will most likely end her life. “Come, be with me,” says Mother Earth who is being abused—whose vitality is being throttled from her life system. “Be with me long enough to feel my agony and the threats to all the life I support. Be moved to action to care for me—to save me from dying.”
“Come, be with me” and enjoy a child giggling and talking to herself during church services. Be with the joy of reconciliation between my neighbor and his son. Be present to me as I tell you about my family get-together with our stories, laughter, and favorite foods. Be with me–with myself and the community—as we are carried into the celebration of the liturgy of All Saints’ Day. “Come, be with me for a few moments” with a person or thing that catches my attention. Linger a bit. Hear the invitation, “Come, be with me,” and step out of the activities of my day for a few moments of quiet and to notice the world—God’s world—around me. “Come, be with me,” God says, “and be still and know that I am God—God who loves you no matter what” (Ps.46:10).
Mary Reuter, OSB
*The experience of Sisters Marius Hiltner, OSB (age 92) and Bernard Heit, OSB (age 90), October 2026
