Sweet Caroline, Rest in Peace

We learned over the Thanksgiving weekend that Caroline Berry passed away. She was a member of the class of 2020 at St. Michael. 

We got to know Caroline when she enrolled into our freshman class from Spanish Fort High School, in our first year as a school. She was a good volleyball and basketball player, but had to sit out her first year with us because of the A.H.S.A.A. transfer rule, even though she practiced with both teams. She acclimated quickly to St. Michael, making friends and doing well academically.  

However, at the end of her first semester, around Christmas time, she started to feel pain, and when she went to the doctor, she was diagnosed with soft tissue cancer, or rhabdomyosarcoma. Hers was a particular virulent form of this very serious form of cancer, and for almost two years, she and her family fought against it with great stamina and bravery. 

I once heard a priest say at a funeral that in his experience, people “died like they lived.” I think he meant that if you have a fighting spirit, you don’t succumb to something like cancer laying down; you fight against it, doing whatever it takes to get well. Caroline fought hard and long—a testament to her guts—and even in the middle of it,  she used her suffering as a platform to raise money for childhood cancer research. We were honored to be part of the "Go Gold" Childhood Cancer Awareness day in honor of Caroline Berry earlier this fall, as memorialized through this video. 

It never makes sense. 

That’s what we try and do when someone young dies—to make sense of it. It doesn’t make sense. We ask “Why would God allow it? Why would God allow an innocent, good person like Caroline to suffer so much?” but there are no satisfactory answers, nothing anyone can say which causes us to say “Aha! Now I understand.” 

But as much as we can't understand it, her example, suffering and death have had a positive impact on St. Michael and all the people she knew. 

First, it’s really hard to get to know Caroline and understand all that she fought through, and at the same time take our petty annoyances and grievances too seriously. Whether or not “he said this” or “she said that” or all the little things we allow ourselves to get upset about seems silly in light of Caroline’s suffering. It’s too easy at times to get trapped in our own bubble of self-pity. Our suffering is trivial, unimportant by comparison. It’s good to be reminded of that. 

Second, it’s noteworthy that Caroline died on Thanksgiving Day. I think there’s a message for us there: We have MUCH to be thankful for. Our friends, our family, our good health, our school, life itself. It’s too easy to take all these things for granted, and to be like the “nine of the ten” lepers  Jesus cured who never came back to thank him. Caroline reminds us to be like the tenth leper and to thank him often for all that he’s given us. 

Third—and I think this could be true in all cases of suffering—it really depends on how we respond. When people are hurting, when they have needs, they often bring out the best in us, calling US to be generous, calling US to be less self-centered. A few of you have been Caroline’s friends through thick and thin, visiting her in the hospital, spending time with her at home, calling and texting these last 2 years. You won’t forget her. And you’re not the same person you were when you first became her friend. 

For it’s one of the great truths of our Christian faith that the more we give, the more we grow, and the happier we are.  God has pre-programmed us this way, but we fight against God’s plan, trying to horde our material possessions, our talents, our time. Yet the more we horde, the more miserable we make ourselves. Being Caroline’s friend, spending time with her, ministering to her—has been a great gift to some of you. Earn that gift, by living well, by allowing yourself to be shaped by your relationship with her, bent toward generosity and concern for others. 

When you start a school as we have, we get to celebrate many firsts: Our first medals in foreign language competitions. Our first music awards. Our first football victory. Our first prom and graduation this spring.  Our faith tells us, with Caroline’s death, we celebrate another first: 

Our first Cardinal in heaven. Our first saint! 

"Saints of God, come to her aid! Hasten to meet her, angels of the Lord! Receive her soul and present her to God the Most High."