The Most Beautiful Sister

"The most beautiful people we have known are those

who have known defeat, known struggling, known suffering,

known loss and have found their way out of the depths. 

These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding

of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep-loving concern.

Beautiful people do not just happen."

- Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

    "Oh Becky," she exclaimed in her perfect New Englander accent as she threw her hands in the air before wrapping them around me. She guided me and my Daddy into the huge parlor of the convent. I crawled up next to her on the big, fluffy chair and listened as she talked to my father. Every so often, she would interject something about me and my ears would perk up, but while she was talking to my Dad, I would be fascinated by her outfit, her necklace, her ring and her veil. At some point she would get up, take me by the hand and lead me to the grand piano in the corner. She would play a song and sing, as I simply listened. Sometimes I would play and sing, too, but I loved to listen to her sing. 

    Every Christmas Eve after Mass, she would bustle over to my family, give us each a hug and then take me by the hand to the community room down the hall from the Main Chapel. There she would show me off in my pretty little dresses as if I was one of her own. She would eventually hand me a cookie and some hot chocolate, then talk with my parents. Cookies were her favorite. You know, the ones that came in the blue tin only at Christmas time; the butter cookies in different shapes with the sugar crystals on the top. So even when it wasn't Christmas, she would always take me into the kitchen for a cookie or two. One for each hand, she would say, and one for later. She was perfect in my eyes and I'm sure, in the eyes of every single child she ever loved. She was the most beautiful nun. 

     She was the first Sister to ever have affected my life; the first Sister I ever knew. It was by her example that I had an idea of what a Sister should look like and act like. Any Sister should be tiny and huggable. She should give great hugs and always have cookies for me. She should know how to play piano and sing. She should have soft hands that could always hold tight to mine. She should always wear her veil long enough to reach the midpoint of her back. She should be able to quietly tiptoe down creaking hallways. She should do all of this to be the perfect nun...because in my little eyes and my naive heart, she was perfect and the most beautiful Sister I had ever met. 

     I wanted so badly to tell her about my decision to begin discerning religious life. It had been a while since I had seen her last, and I knew that time was slipping between my fingers. I went to visit her with the purpose of telling her my new life path, but left thinking a whole new thing. I wasn't expecting to see my perfectly beautiful sister dying in her bed. She was no longer the Sister I knew her to be and I knew right away it wouldn't be long before she was called home to God. The next day, she passed away. The image of her lying in her bed, all curled up really tiny, made me think. She wasn't any less beautiful than she had been in my memories of her from my childhood, but she wasn't the same person. In fact, I think seeing her so close to death actually made her even more beautiful. You could tell by her eyes that she knew she was close to Heaven and she was ready to meet her Beloved face to face. Yes, in fact, she was more beautiful then than anyone I had ever seen. 

     My dear Sister Thomasita was the first Sister I had ever met and really gotten to know as a kid. There are times when I wish she was still around so that she could counsel me on my life, but I know that she continues to walk with me every day, sending me more and more beautiful Sisters in my life. When I was younger, I had this idea of the most beautiful Sister. Since her death, that has changed so greatly. I know so many most beautiful Sisters.

     Sometimes the most beautiful Sister walks with me to class or from class to my dorm. Sometimes she hugs me when I have had a rough day and need a shoulder to cry on. Sometimes she sits at my lunch table among my friends and carries on a crazy conversation. Sometimes she stops just to talk to me in the middle of campus and tell me she's praying for me. Sometimes she plays the piano for me when I sing and continues to train me for the day when I'm a professional church singer. Sometimes she leaves little packages at or notes under my door. Sometimes she mails me letters in the middle of the school year just because. Sometimes she calls me sunflower and sunshine because I make her smile. Sometimes she calls upon me to make crazy adventures. Sometimes she stops in the office at work just the chat or check up on me. Sometimes she links my arm as she walks down the hallway because she doesn't like her walker anymore. Sometimes she asks me if I know what I am doing with my life. Sometimes she drills me on the stage and tells me I can do better than what I am giving her. Sometimes she sends me emails on days when I need them the most. Sometimes she cries with me and for me. Sometimes she smiles with me as we share life stories. Sometimes we go for car rides that are filled with heart to heart conversations. Sometimes we pray together for those who need it. 

      The most beautiful Sister has blue eyes, green eyes, brown eyes, gray eyes. She has pearly white hair, salt and pepper hair, black hair, blonde hair, brown hair, curly hair, straight hair, short hair, long hair. She has glasses for reading, glasses for driving, purple glasses, silver glasses, wire glasses, bifocals or no glasses at all. She is tall, she is short, she is medium height. She has soft, gentle hands from a life of praying and touching souls. She has rough, calloused hands from years of hard work and rebuilding lives. She wears a veil that meets the midpoint of her back, she wears a long veil, she wears a short veil, sometimes it's white, sometimes it's blue, sometimes it's black, sometimes she wears no veil at all. She wears a blue dress, a black dress, a white dress, a dress of many colors. She sings, she doesn't. She plays piano, she plays guitar, she plays violin, she doesn't play anything at all. She smiles, she always smiles, she always smiles and laughs with me. And sometimes she cries. 

     The most beautiful Sister may not hold my hand, or hug me, or walk with me, but she has touched my heart and soul in more ways than any person ever could. The most beautiful Sister is always there to listen to my heart and give solace or advice. She is always a phone call or walk away. She is always there for me in prayer. The most beautiful Sister walks across my campus daily, she walks down the hallways of my work, she walks down the halls of my high school. The most beautiful Sister is three, four, seven hours away from me. The most beautiful Sister is right next door (you should meet her...). The most beautiful Sister shares my story. 

     The truth is, the most beautiful Sister isn't just one person, isn't even a small group of people. The most beautiful Sister is every Sister I know. She is beautiful in her own way, shape and form. Her story is beautiful, her life is beautiful, her witness  is beautiful! SHE IS BEAUTIFUL. There isn't a day that goes by without a conversation with at least one Sister. Every day I come in contact with these beautiful women of God, my heart beams with happiness at the blessing of having them in my life. She is beautiful, they are beautiful. I guess it's something Jesus does to them, but He always seems to be married to the most beautiful Sister. Oh I am so blessed.