One evening in NYC late in the 1970s, I arrived home to my apartment ready to relax. My roommate met me at the door saying, “Madeleine L’Engle is downtown signing books; we have to go!” I protested, tired and unwilling to go back downtown. She insisted, “How often do you get an opportunity to meet Madeleine L’Engle?” I reluctantly agreed and we made our way downtown to buy a book and have it signed. Madeleine was lovely. She answered questions and discussed her young grandchildren. It was worth the trip.
A few years later, I moved into Madeleine’s neighborhood and soon had numerous opportunities to cross paths with her. One dark and stormy night I arrived home weary, happy to kick my wet shoes off and fall into an easy chair. The phone rang. A sister from the Community of the Holy Spirit said, “You are on the waiting list for Madeleine L’Engle’s writing workshop; if you come over right away you can attend.” I was tired; it was raining. I didn’t want to go, but it seemed an opportunity not to miss. I dragged myself out and walked the stormy blocks to the convent. From that group meeting on, my life was forever changed.
Little did I know that rainy evening that Madeleine would become my mentor and dear friend, that I would attend her workshops for years to come. I didn’t know she would reach out to me in friendship or that I would be called to stand by her through some dark times. When her health eventually failed and she had to give up workshops and other activities, I took her weekly in her wheelchair to the Cathedral’s Sunday evening vesper service. After the service we would go out for dinner to discuss it all. I became the storyteller’s storyteller. She wanted to know everything, who had moved away, published a book, married, or had a baby. I loved those discussions, the laughter and the stories.
For Madeleine, Story was everything. She encouraged her workshop writers to skip down that wild and wonderful road of cosmic questions, questions that couldn’t be answered, but could be explored in Story with all its Truth. Her style was supportive, elegant, and quirky. The Bible with its characters and situations was her textbook. She explained that God created us because he loves stories.
A woman of faith, Madeleine was regular in her attendance at the Eucharist and in reading the Bible as well as the Book of Common Prayer. She especially loved Compline, the prayers for the end of the day. She lived knowing that her God, who would not answer all of her questions, would never abandon her. I miss Madeleine. I am happy for every moment I spent with her. Those moments were varied indeed and toward the end of her life, difficult. Every time I see the sun lighting up a silver cloud I think of her. I remember her vision, her energy, and her commitment to God. I remember saying Compline for her at her bedside just shortly before she went into her final coma. She liked to point out that Jesus’s Resurrection turned a terrible Friday into a Good Friday. For Madeleine that Resurrection has come.
© 2022 by Pamela Leggett