Stories from the Singing Nuns

One evening a Sister companion and I, while waiting at the checkstand of a store, were questioned by a 3-year-old who was perched in a nearby shopping cart. “Why do you wear them clothes?” he asked. We told him that we wore them because we worked for God.

At this, the child’s curiosity seemed satisfied. We finished our purchase and left, only to discover within a few minutes that we had forgotten something and had to return. The boy was still at the checkstand when we returned, and as he saw us approaching he yelled out, “What’s the matter — wasn’t God home?”

People just don’t see Sisters in full habit any more. Or rather, on those rare occasions when they do, they hardly believe their eyes. One day two Sisters were in a specialty store. One Sister stopped for a few moments to intently gaze at a display that caught her eye. She was startled out of her trance when she found herself being regarded at very close range by a customer. When Sister blinked in surprise, the woman started back and gasped in embarrassment, “I am so sorry! I thought you were a doll!”

During part of a concert of the Singing Nuns, the smiles on the faces of the Sisters seemed brighter than usual. If you had asked most of them about it afterward, they would have told you that it was because the Sister directing had such a huge smile on her face. In fact, it seemed that she could hardly keep from laughing. But why was that? Only this Sister could see that a very persistent fly had made up his mind to enjoy Schubert’s Ave Maria from the tip of the nose of a flustered Sister soprano.

An active Sister may be called on to do just about anything from catechizing to cooking. Often it becomes necessary for her to go out into the world, and it is quite interesting to see how people respond to her presence. Frequently one will overhear some man whisper to a fellow worker, “Hey, look out, there’s a nun. Watch your language!” or “I’m so sorry, Sister, I didn’t mean to say that, honest!”

One time two Sisters were driving through town. It was a warm day, and the car windows were rolled down. At a stop light a little red truck with loud, blaring music pulled up beside them. The Sister driving caught the eye of the other driver, gave him a big smile, and put her finger to her mouth. Lo and behold, the other driver grinned, leaned down and lowered the volume of his music.

People are not always so responsive, but in general the Sister can, when out in public, serve as a reminder of the more important things in life. Often her presence may be a means to prevent sins from being committed and God from being offended. When this is the case, she has done something quite in keeping with her vocation to love and serve God, even if she was wholly unaware of it at the time.

Latin can be rather elusive to the young altar boys. One of our Sisters on mission in New Zealand informed us of one such case: “Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa” was dutifully rendered by one youngster as: “Me a cowboy, me a cowboy, me a Mexican cowboy.”

A child in Sister’s second-grade class wrote to St. Nicholas: “I think you should bring me some candy, because I've gone through four months of hard labor so far.” He added as a P.S.: “You won’t believe the stress I’m going through!”

During Show-and-Tell one day in second grade, everyone, including Sister, made a big fuss over the precious baby doll one little girl brought to school. After she finished showing-and-telling, Sister told Susie that she could tuck her “baby” in and put her to bed on the table in the back of the classroom.

One of the boys raised his hand and said, “Sister, we have something better than that at home.”

One beautiful sunny day a Sister who had been attending nursing school decided to study down by the river which ran through the campus. After some time sitting on the cool green lawn, she proceeded to the library to finish up some research. But she had hardly entered the building when a woman approached and, with her horrified gaze fixed at a point on Sister’s veil, said ominously, “Sister, don’t move!”

Sister, of course, panicked, suspecting some hideous creature was crawling on her. And she suspected rightly, for, as it turned out, a lively little lizard had hitch-hiked a ride on her veil, and was soon on the loose in the library. It was clear that he had no intention of being captured. Soon the entire library was in an uproar, as students and library workers scurried in pursuit of the culprit.

Before long before the head librarian came out of his back office to see what all the commotion was about. A man of imposing stature, he approached Sister with a stern expression on his face and said, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “Now Sister, didn’t you read the posted rules of this library that no animals are allowed?” But the twinkle in his eye betrayed him. Relieved, Sister and those who had gathered around her burst into laughter.

Soon the elusive lizard was caught and gently carried back to the river bank, and once again, a hush descended upon the library. But something was different now — what could it be? Ah yes, that’s it. Now there was a smile on every face....

Years ago, when the Singing Nuns used to travel across the country on tour, we had a large van we named Muletta. And did she ever live up to her name! She could be a real mule at times, insisting on visiting every garage on the route of our trips.

One time Muletta broke down in Sheridan, Wyoming, causing nearly a full day’s delay. She was towed to a garage while our group of 15 nuns was stranded on the grounds of the local police station, which happened to be right next to the gas station where the stubborn bus had refused to move. But Sisters can usually accommodate quite well to any situation, and with permission of the kind police officers, they made use of the spacious grounds for a picnic. After lunch, the bus still wasn’t ready, so one of the nuns pulled out the volleyball and soon a rollicking game was underway. Suddenly the Sisters became aware of applause from nearby... they had been playing right under the windows of the town jail! Hastily the nuns moved the game to another location, much to the disappointment of the inmates.

By that evening, our “mule” still had not recovered enough to travel, so a kind motel owner offered lodging to the Sisters for the night. The only difficulty was that the motel was on the opposite side of town, and it was nearly dark. So what did the helpful police officers do, but pile the nuns in 3 or 4 squad cars and gallantly transport us to the motel. It must have been quite a sight to see all those blue nuns coming out of police cars! What a memorable stay we had in Sheridan, thanks to the stubbornness of our old bus, Muletta.

A few years later, poor Muletta burst into flames due to faulty wiring or something — luckily no one was in it at the time. Her replacement was a 15-passenger tour bus which was christened “Vangelica” — and she became the subject of a few stories as well. On one trip, for example, we took great precautions by having three keys made so that the thirteen traveling Sisters would never be locked out of the bus. The two extras were given to two Sisters, who were to keep the keys with them at all times. At one of our stops, however, someone accidentally locked the van, leaving the keys in the ignition. No problem — the driver asked one of the other key holders for her key. As luck would have it, she had left it on the bus. That’s okay — after all, there was one more key holder. Oh NO! The third Sister had put the key in her bag, which was now was locked in the trunk. So there stood thirteen nuns, racking their brains to figure out how to get into the van. Half-an-hour later, after much struggling and exertion, one window was opened. At that point, the Sisters all turned at once and, without a word, picked up the smallest Sister and hoisted her through the ten-inch opening. After she had regained her footing, she looked back out the window and asked, “Now where are the keys?” (Never mind, Sister — just open the door.)

Eventually, Vangelica was in an accident and never quite recovered. Reluctantly, we had to see her towed to a junkyard. Our next bus was named Fortibus, and our latest one is named Vangelica II, but we just don’t travel as much as we used to. Without all the adventures of those cross-country trips, we just haven’t had the same opportunities of bonding as in those good old days. (Sigh.)