I’m a college student, temporarily working at a home for retired nuns. Today, when I was looking for something to do, one of the workers suggested that I take Sister Catherine Marie outside. No big deal, I thought. I smiled at Sister Catherine and introduced myself, but she didn’t respond. She stopped responding about a year ago.
    Sister Catherine’s hair is short and snow white, and her legs seemed a bit deformed under her knitted blanket. Propped up on a reclining cot, she can be wheeled about. As I pushed her cot down the hall, I was careful not to bump her little feet.
    “She hasn’t been outside in two years,” called one of the workers.
    “What?” I exclaimed. I supposed that none of the workers had the time to take her out. But I couldn’t imagine staying in a room the size of a handicapped bathroom and not seeing the sky or feeling the warmth of the sun or a nice breeze on my face for two whole years.
    I wheeled her outside, where I sat on a bench in a courtyard surrounded by brick buildings, and I pulled her up next to me. Some leaves fell and scattered onto her blanket. “It’s beautiful outside, huh, Sister?” I said. Her eyes moved around as if she were taking in everything. After a bit, I decided to take her outside of the walled-in courtyard. 
    The nuns’ home is set on a hill, so I rolled Sister Catherine out toward the front entrance. From there, the clouds seemed to hang right over the treetops.
    I parked Sister’s cot in the shade. I rubbed her soft arm and, motioning to her blanket, asked if she was cold. “No, I am fine,” she said as she waved away the blanket. I was excited that she’d given me a response, and I continued to talk to her and ask questions. I didn’t get another response from her, but at least I knew she understood me. She just gazed at the blue sky and clouds. Occasionally, her pretty green eyes would shift to the branches swaying above us. My gosh, I thought, this poor lady hasn’t been outside in two years and I’m bugging her with small talk and annoying questions.
    What if I had been deprived of seeing all of God’s beauty outdoors for two years? I began to look at our surroundings as Sister Catherine was looking at it — unable to move, completely dependent, with utter humility. I noticed the way the trees rustled with each gust of wind. I noticed the different shades of the clouds. I paid attention to everything, as if I had just seen it for the first time in two years. We sat there, Sister and I, in silence and just watched . . . life. Then, still staring at the sky, she muttered something that sounded like “I owe you one.” I patted her arm and smiled. I should have said the same thing.