HERE ON ‘CLAIMING SISTERHOOD,’ I’VE BEEN gathering reader stories of the Sisters we call nuns for a few months now. It all started in February when I told a few tidbits about my experiences with (Catholic) nuns, including an admission that I’d once hoped to become one. The reader responses were delightful, and over the next few weeks I hope to resurface some of my favorite comments from that post. Starting with the following:
“Once, in second grade, in a fit of anger, Sister Lucita swooshed her white-trimmed black veil behind her back… and a tendril of hair popped out. At recess, we girls huddled together on our asphalt parking lot/playground and whispered, ‘They DO have hair.’ It would be years before we figured out they also got to keep their breasts. We thought they were chopped off so those large white collars of their habits could lay flat against their chests.
“On a more serious side, we lived in a Catholic neighborhood where the nuns were very much a part of our lives. They came over and visited us and we visited them at the convent. When my mother would make me a new dress, she’d tell me to go show the nuns. They’d gush and I’d bask in the glory of their praise. That’s how it was with them. It was all about the love.”
Do you have a nun story to share? Or a favorite nun? Do tell…
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