By Gretchen Keiser, Staff Writer

ATLANTA--“For me it is like seeing my own mother, because we give up everything and now she is my mother,” said Sister Eulalia, MC.

Five sisters who provide a night shelter for women in the Overtown section of Miami had driven 12 hours for the chance to see their “mother” again. Waiting with them were four sisters who run an Atlanta hospice for women dying of AIDS. They would be joined by seven other Missionaries of Charity that night.

“We don’t take up much room,” said one sister gaily, at the thought of sharing the small Atlanta convent with Mother Teresa and 15 other sisters. “We sleep on the floor.”

Framed by the white and blue sari, their faces are an artist’s palette of shades of brown, reflecting countries of origin from India to Canada and even to the urban areas of the United States, like the Bronx. But a commonality unites them as Missionaries of Charity.

One thread in their unity, which certainly has Jesus as its core, is Mother Teresa.

Her unexpected visit to the United States to witness the vows of new sisters and to bless recent foundations in Georgia, North Carolina and Massachusetts causes a rare disturbance in the humble lives of sisters. The Miami group never dreamed of the joy of greeting her in Atlanta with the archbishop.

“We do not think we can talk to her, only see her.”

Waiting under darkened skies for a plane carrying the 84-year-old foundress of the order, nothing can dim the shining light of expectation on their faces. They hold the rosaries in their hands which they always carry, but in these moments of excited expectation at an Atlanta airport, for once they are not visibly praying. They are alternately giggling and laughing and staring at the horizon, teasing that they can sense which of the endless series of planes is “the one.”

What will they say to her when she does arrive? Sister Eulalia laughs. “One does not wonder what one would say to one’s mother,” Of course not. One would speak from the heart.

At last it does arrive. As soon as safety permits, they are on the run across the tarmac in a wave of white that engulfs the tiny, wizened and so-familiar figure as she takes her first step from the plane to the ground. Murmurs of welcome to Mother Teresa are answered by the deeper voice answering in love. A surprisingly large and broad hand for a little woman plants a blessing firmly atop each bowed white sari.

She looks each person squarely in the eyes, from Archbishop John Donoghue, to the priests, Msgr. Edward Dillon and Msgr. Donald Kenny, and then, with equal dignity to the drivers, the photographers and staff, firmly grasping each welcoming hand. She is here.