Saturday, November 12, 2011

Splotching and Spotting


I’ve used the word faults and failings several times in the novitiate postings. We had to “weed them out.” Sometimes the weeding led to raucous laughter. Picture a postulant or novice attempting reverent silence when washing dishes or table waiting or doing any obedience. Picture the over-exaggeration of movement. Clap your hands over your ears at the resultant clatter and clang. Suppressed laughter breaks into giggles, hidden behind the veil.
             I laughed a lot in the novitiate. It wasn’t considered a fault or failing. It wasn’t frowned upon except when it disturbed the silence of others. Faults and failings were to be weeded out, but Benedictines always valued the uniqueness of each person and treasured differences. Everything in moderation.
            That’s the sticking point. Right there. I simply wasn’t moderate. I’ve told you this before. Here’s another example.
            My most obvious deviation from the convent rules about silence was singing outside the laundry each Monday and Tuesday as I sorted the wash. I crooned all the Cole Porter songs. Gershwin. Lorenz Hart. Rogers and Hammerstein. Nat King Cole. Bing Crosby. Frank Sinatra. Tony Bennett.
            The Novice Mistress, I’m sure, knew I weekly chose singing over silence. She never reprimanded me.  Benedictines have always sung the liturgy. The magnificence of Gregorian music fills their lives. I know she appreciated the hold music had over me. And she honored it.
            But one of my failings she couldn’t ignore: I was sloppy at meals.


            The thing is that when we received salutation at lunch and supper, I got excited. Talking, for me, is a real treat. I threw myself into storytelling as did the novices sitting next to and across from me. We enjoyed one another.
            The problem is that I’d get distracted by a good story and drop gravy on the table. Or meat juice, butter, sauce, jam, soup. So many possibilities for splotching and spotting.    

        
            When this happened, the convent required the messy person to rise, go to the front of the table, kneel, and make culpa. The penance was always the same: After the meal, I’d get a large bowl of boiling water and drape the table cloth over it to immerse the spot. Then I’d run a spoon back and forth over it until the spot disappeared, That process, of course, made doing the laundry easier for those who did the actual washing.

            I became famous in my novitiate for spotting. On July 11, 1959, the feast of St. Benedict, I got through breakfast and lunch with no spotting. In fact, I made it through supper without marring that tablecloth.  
            Then came dessert. Plump plums in their juice.
            You surely know what happened. The telling of a story. Laughter distracting me. And then . . . the splash of purple juice on snow-white cloth. Too much pure joy in the day for me to make it through with no spotting.
            I rose. Walked to the head of the table. Knelt before the Novice Mistress. “Mea culpa, I made a spot on the table. Um Jesum willum, may I have a penance?”  (Not sure of the spelling!)
            Then, like clouds parting to emit light, the Novice Mistress beamed at me. “I’m so happy to see you!" she said. "It’s not a feast, I’ve discovered, without a visit from Sister Innocence.”
            Her words left me in a stupor. She had a sense of humor.
            That made, I think, all the difference in our relationship.


All photos from http://www.freedigitalphotos.net

23 comments:

  1. Dee, I smiled all through this delightful post and laughed out loud at the end. :-) A sense of humour is so important in all walks of life, but I'd guess doubly so in the religious life. At least, all the nuns I know laugh a lot and can tell some very funny stories.

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  2. I so enjoyed this post, Dee! It shows reverence for some of the best parts of life -- music and humor -- in a convent that would appear at first glance to be bound by rules. And I love the spirit it shows in you -- so enjoying story-telling, the company of others, and having great taste in music!

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  3. A friend of ours told us that when she & her sister were kids, their mother would give them $.50 if if they didn't dirty the tablecloth at dinner. Now, when we spot the tablecloth, my husband or I will tell the other, "No $.50 for you." I don't dirty the tablecloth often, but it is very difficuly for me to get through a meal without getting at least one spot on my shirt front.

    I'm glad the Novice Mistress had a sense of humor--she would have needed a large one for me!

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  4. Such delight in the reading of your post, Dee. I hope you had delight in the telling of it. The sense of humor from your Novice Mistress seems to be from the heart and the understanding you felt must have seemed like a gift.

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  5. Dee, I would be forever with a cloth in one hand and a spoon in the other. Another fascinating piece of the puzzle that is your life.

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  6. I'm beginning to like the ole gal.
    If I'm failing, I just try to fail better the next time. ~Mary

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  7. It's a shame there was no Oxyclean then or one of those little instant Tide cleaners.

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  8. What a fun story! I hope you're having a great weekend!

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  9. Aha! She did appreciate your joy and enthusiasm!! I'm sure, knowing you, she knew how difficult all the hours of silence were and that made your devotion all the more touching. I loved these memories, Dee! :)

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  10. Now that is a very telling story, not only about yourself, but about the life you shared with the others nuns. I loved it!

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  11. Excellent! So pleased you found someone with a sense of humor and you took it in a happy spirit instead of as a slap to the face.

    I'd be happy to take a meal with you anytime. Spills or no spills. My husband and I used to love to cook together (before we had kids and had the time to do so) and we used to joke that it wasn't dinner unless there were chopped onions (or shallots or garlic or herbs) on the floor. In fact, I'm certain that's part of the reason we got a dog.

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  12. This really is a rather lovely memory, Dee and illustrates beautifully both the compassion and tolerance of the Novice Mistress.

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  13. Dee..thank you for all your kind comments about your dad..you are right..I need to be gracious with myself and I am. I am proud of what I did for my dad from the beginning to the end...it makes it all a bit easier for me. Now...this post reminds me of this story. I was invited to a somewhat fancy dinner party with formal table linens etc. A guest knocked over her glass of wine..all over the white linen tablecloth. Everyone held their breath. The host laughed and knocked over her glass of wine and so it went....then she said "It's only a tablecloth"..I have never forgotten that day.

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  14. Well now I know how to work out stains on a table cloth!. Thank you Dee.

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  15. What a line from the Novice Mistress! LOL! That is wonderful :)

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  16. I like hearing that uniqueness was valued, even when it came in the form of spotting. A really fun post to read.

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  17. I'm clumsy too, Dee: I wouldn't have lasted a moment at one of your mealtimes, I feel sure :-) Lovely post.

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  18. What a story !! I don't usually spot a tablecloth but as Fishducky commented, I must spill on my shirt and don't even notice. When I was on my one years therapy I had 10 glasses of juice per day. It was carrot and greens. Try getting those stains out. Ha

    It was mostly sweat shirts and after soakings in bleach and many washings, I just tossed them. So what's a little spot among friends? :)

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  19. Dee, this is such a delightful story! You have an effervescence and spirit about you that is truly noble. You touched a particular chord in my own soul when you mentioned the value in appreciating differences in others--and connected with laughter and humor. I think I needed that today! You have so much to share. I enjoy each and every post, and delight in them. Final note: This was a beautifully written post! Debra

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  20. I could never have done what you did. I would be kneeling the majority of my life. haha

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  21. Thank Goodness for that.
    How could laughter, joy and singing ever be be sinful? Which God would demand endless penance?

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  22. Plum juice, of course! Your novitiate mistress was wise!

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  23. I thoroughly enjoyed this post.
    I was waiting for the other shoe to drop there at the end but instead was rewarded with a smile.
    God Bless that woman for having a sense of humor!

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