Noah and the Nuns

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When I was a small girl, we would not go on “vacations” but we would take the drive to Montreal and to Sherbrooke to visit relatives. My mother had 5 sisters who all became nuns. I use to love to go and visit them, as most of them lived in very large convents. These old buildings were like walking into some kind of castle. The places all had a familiar feeling to them. I remember having to sit quietly for hours as my parents visited with them. Sometimes if we were lucky we would have a book to read to break up the day. Sometimes, if we were really, really lucky, my Aunt would allow us to roam around the convent. I remember this particular day, (my Aunt Madeleine was the Mother Superior),the students were gone on vacation, and so the classrooms were empty and we were allowed to go into the classrooms, and I was able to write on the chalkboards (this was a fascination of mine, and frequently got into trouble at school for writing on the board). At that time, the sisters were in full habit and seemed very much untouchable and somewhat inhuman. These experiences brought a sense of a certain awe about life; to know these women and those around them who gave their lives for something bigger than themselves. They have never owned a house, a car or anything else that we subconsciously (or not so subconsciously) judge ourselves and other worth by. I have some wonderful memories in these convents.

When I had my son, and I was unmarried, and I had my share of “catholic guilt”; my Aunt Lorraine came to visit me and she told me that my son was a gift, and that now, God had made sure that I would not be alone in my life. She told me that my job, was to give the best life I could to this child, and that God had not abandoned me. It gave me such a renewed spirit. It was exactly what I needed to hear and because of that one conversation I have been a better mother. TShat day my Aunt became approachable and human. She even began to use her English (they only spoke French when I grew up) and she began to be a woman that was not just my aunt the nun, but was this woman of which I was her namesake and admired.

Last weekend, I decided to take my mother and my son to visit her in Montreal. It had been the first time in many, many years that I went back to the convent. It was SO different. Because of the decrease in the amount of women entering the convent, they were forced to sell these “castle like” buildings and now live in small homes throughout the city. While they continue to live in community, they live with about 7 or 8 other sisters. However, it was interesting, that when you entered this small house, one still had that “feeling” of awe that I had experienced in the much bigger convents.

That day we had the pleasure of visiting Mount Royal, and the Oratory of St. Joseph.I loved taking my son to this amazing church, and see him experience something I did when I was his age. It was the greatest as we opened the front door and he experienced the scenery of all of Montreal in front of us. Through him, I was experiencing all of it again for the first time. He had many good questions and my best memory was of my son, kneeling in front of the alter praying the “Our Father”. How could God ever ignore the prayers of this innocent creature? I saw myself in him. All day was an amazing experience. It brought me back to my roots and reminded me of who I was. We went to the little gift shop and he got a rosary and a nice wooden cross necklace. We went down to the crypt, and there a priest was available to bless our new things and to give us a blessing also. It was such a moment, standing there with my son, being blessed in this amazing place and hearing these words from a priest we had never met, but for some reason, he was saying the words that both Noah and I needed to hear. After, we received small bottles of holy water.

Image by MusMs via Flickr

After visiting the church, we returned to the convent. There they had dinner for us; only in a way that nuns can give you dinner. Simple, yet elegant. They had rice soup, and Noah doesn’t really like rice soup, and normally he would just be honest and say that he didn’t like rice soup; but today, he was determined to eat this soup because the nuns had made it for him. I was very proud of him. There was something in the atmosphere that, while we couldn’t explain it, was affecting us. After dinner, Noah showed the sisters how his DSi worked, they were amazed at this little gadget, and he was able to take pictures of them, and one sister, took a picture of him. But it was Sr. Monique that changed my son’s life that day. She was interested in him, she listened to him and she was truly present to him. While my mother, aunt and I were in the parlor talking, Noah and Sr. Monique were in the kitchen, test driving a small matchbox car over some obstacles. They must have spent an hour in there together. When they finally arrived to the parlor, Noah had a new friend. When we left he hugged her, in a a way that a child would hug a long lost grandmother. All the sisters thought he was a great boy and told him that they would pray for him. They also told him that he was welcomed there anytime and that they hoped that he would come again soon.

When we got into the car, he was unusually quiet, we were driving away from the house, and he said, “I only wish for one thing, that I could spend just a few more moments with Monique.” I thought that it was a cute statement, but then I realized that he had started crying. How could someone he met and only spent a couple of hours with have such an impact on him. He cried for sometime on the way home, this cry that comes from his heart. What was it that touched him so much? Sr. Monique was different than most people, she had the gift to be present to others. She was able to put aside what she might have wanted, though I don’t think that this ever enters her mind. She genuinely wanted to know this little boy and she was the hand of God on earth. She made this sometimes awkward little boy feel special, feel important and feel that he mattered. She was able to teach him that day, of the love God has for him. It was unconditional, it was given freely and it was genuine. This is what touched my son’s heart in the convent that day. It was the same thing that touched my heart when I was young, this pure feeling of God that was all around you when you entered into a holy space. I was so grateful to God that through Sr. Monique he touched my son in the most personal way.

Image by Prisoner 5413 via Flickr

Now, when Noah has troubles, he takes the holy water and sprinkles himself with a faith that God will help him in his trials. He is somehow different, a bit more mature, a bit more caring, gentle and thoughtful. Our lives changed that day, and we were given a gift, a gift of love for the next generation in the convent.

(As soon as I figure out how to take the pictures off of the DSi, I will post Noah and the nuns.)