A SACRED STORY

Sacred, hallowed traditions have a way of settling into the quiet crevices of our heart. There they remain like glue; connecting what we experience in the early years of our life with who we become in our adulthood.

My parents were 3^rd order members of the Dominican Order; lay persons who committed to the practices and spirituality of those vowed religious of the same order. Sr. Maureen, the ‘designated nun’ who connected the outside world with her otherwise cloistered sisters, played another role in my parents’ future. Though they met serendipitously on the property, it was Sister who (as the legend goes) played matchmaker.

Because of Sr Maureen’s encouragement, my parents married. In thanksgiving, they in turn would make a pitstop to the convent on their way home from the hospital after the birth of each child. Hearts full of love and gratitude, my parents would introduce the newest addition to Sr. Maureen before heading home.

Living two blocks from the ’Doat Street nuns” whose property was enclosed by a ten-foot stone wall, only added to the secrecy and wonder  Even from my upstairs bedroom window I could not see over the wall, but that didn’t discourage my childhood imagination.

My parents’ connection with the Dominicans leant itself to a childhood full of holy moments, much mystery, some fear, and an annual spaghetti dinner fundraiser.

The chapel was built of beautiful stone, magnificent stain glass, perpetual sacred quietness and an ever-present essence of incense, no matter what time of day you visited.

As a young adult, I would often stop after work for a few minutes of quiet before heading home to continue the never-ending schoolwork of an elementary teacher.

This week, so many decades later, I had the opportunity to tour the transformed property. Approaching the main entrance, I was transported back to my childhood; walking through doors that once held only mystery and secrets, now presented me with a journey I never imagined taking.

The property of almost 10 acres, housed I do not know, how many nuns. We only ever met Sr Maureen, and later her predecessor. The front office was as far as the public was allowed. Any donations or mass cards that were picked up had to de dispensed through a turnstile which allowed no more than one eye of Sister to be seen.

But this day, I walked the halls, passed through the places that were once the nuns’ private living areas, saw where they did laundry, where they prayed, where they gardened, and where they sat at day’s end watching the sun set.

I’m writing about this incredible visit down memory lane for more reason than the joy it brought to me!  Because what a group of outstanding people have done, is taken this once hallowed place ~which no longer held a mission~ and breathed life back into it.

The school is incredible. For as much as each turn brought a rush of rich emotions to me, every hall we traveled was even more so… evidence of how vision and commitment can make a difference in our struggling world.  

BuffSci2 has reimagined education. The children there are empowered, and you could feel the peace and happiness flowing from rooms as we passed by.

One child passed me in the hall reporting, “Hello, I am having a good day so far. How are you?”

What was once the holy chapel is now a (sometimes) noisy, but happy cafeteria. There is a dance studio where the sisters once knelt in prayer for daily mass. I smile, as I am reminded that prayer can take so many forms.

The catwalk has been enclosed and now provides safe access between building wings. And the interior courtyard will one day hold an outdoor performance stage.

As an educator, I am addicted to books. The plan that outdoor niches will be created where children can both read and be surrounded by nature fills this teacher’s heart with joy and hope.

And the mysterious 10-foot stone wall that surrounded the cloister?  It will one day be a mural of all things natural… a constant stimulus to our children that their hopes and dreams hold no boundaries.

There is still much work to be done. But what of importance doesn’t require hard work? And vision. And ongoing commitment.

What I experienced this week was actually quite like that of my childhood. The energy had a different flavor, but it came from the same source. And that is love.