Sister Fay has been a pastoral administrator in Tuktoyaktuk for the last 20 years working with the Inuvialuit (Eskimo of the Western Arctic). I first met Sister Fay some 40 years ago when the two of us had freshly printed PhD degrees and were on staff at Newman Theological College in Edmonton. Sister Fay was a graduate in theology from Leuven and I with a counseling psychology degree from the University of Alberta. It happened we also lived across the street from one another – I was living at St. Alphonsus and Sister Fay in the Sisters’ residence across 85th street. After all these years it was delightful to be together sharing in ministry.

When I asked the elders why they thought Sister Fay had stayed in this remote community for so long – one elder immediately replied: “Because she loves us.” Sister’s little house is a welcoming centre where people come to pray, celebrate and share food. She has a potluck after every Mass with home made bread. For Christmas there was turkey, with the trimmings, ham and even caribou stew. Her home is open for those in need, whether for food or laundry or just a place to chat. The phone is never idle for long. There’s a thrift store next door where people can drop off or purchase lightly used/new clothing.

During my stay we worked together preparing meals and visiting people. There were plenty of potatoes to peel or dishes to wash. On Christmas eve we celebrated Eucharist in the little church. The heat was turned on early so that by 9 pm the church was comfortable in contrast to the -38 C outside. The church was decorated and festive with at least two cribs and many little figurines both European and Indigenous and many colourful lights.

Come nine o’clock the church was filling quickly with families – children hyper excited and parents eager to enter the spirit of the feast. We sang and celebrated the Nativity of Our Lord in a way that reminded all of us how the original birthday of Jesus was celebrated by angels singing, shepherds worshiping, all in the midst of a cold winter’s night. On Christmas day the weather was blizzardly and there was not enough heat to warm the little church. So, we had the Mass in the front room of Sister’s house. Only 13 managed to get to church – Sister Fay was the Uber driver for many of them. We were small in number but our singing and the joy of the people gathered was a striking contrast to what was happening outside. The Inuvialuit know how to laugh! I was also struck by the faith of the elders. In spite of experiences with residential schools those who were present had unshakable faith.

Let me share with you an example of faith that touched me and I found awe-inspiring. On the day after Christmas one of the elders, a man of deep faith, called Sister Fay for help to get to the Nursing Station in the hamlet. He was having difficulty breathing. Sister went and spent most of the day with Roy and his wife – bringing them to the Nursing Station. They waited for the nurse to see him and determine what she could prescribe. If things got worse he would have to be Medivacked out to Inuvik or Yellowknife. This would have to wait until the weather improved and it might prove to be too late. He was given a couple of puffers to see if this would help and sent home.

The next day he called Sister once again. He had not been able to sleep all night and his breathing was increasingly laboured. There was anxiety and a bit of panic in his voice. His wife, too, was deeply distressed. Sister Fay suggested that I come with her to his house. She asked Roy if he would like to receive the sacrament of the sick and Holy Communion. He said “yes.” Privately we were worried if he would survive.

When we arrived Roy was on the phone with the nursing station asking whether he should return. He decided to wait since we had arrived. I proceeded with praying over Roy, anointing him with the Oil of the Sick and gave him communion. The most unbelievable thing happened.

After I had completed the ritual, Roy’s breathing changed. Gone was the laboured breathing and a calm had come over Roy. He phoned the nursing station and said he would call back later if he needed to but first he was going to try and get some sleep. We left and he went to bed and slept for several hours. The next day he and his wife arrived for Church – a changed man. The power of grace and the sacrament had been a healing touch that left me in wonderment and humbled by this man’s faith.

Yes, Tuktoyaktuk was memorable, above all because of the people who live in this rugged, harsh, unforgiviing environment. I was moved by their welcome, their sincere faith, generous hospitality, and genuine joy. There were no plastic smiles or artificial politeness. I found them real and it was easy being there with them. Even more, I admire Sister Fay and all the early and present missionaries. They were and are truly heroic messengers of the Gospel. There is no way this city boy could deal with the isolation and loneliness over the long term. I am very grateful for the experience. I left a richer person with a renewed spirit because of it.