Saturday, June 1, 2013

An Unexpected Letter of Kindness


My last random-act-of-kindness posting tells how Sister Madonna reached out to me a few weeks after I left the convent on December 24, 1966. It will make more sense if you’ve already read the following three stories, which I posted in August 2011. They explain my leaving and the confusion that swirled within me.


         I know that, like me, most of you are too busy to read so many postings, so I’ll briefly summarize why I left the convent: During the eight and one half years I lived there, I became more and more depressed. By the end of that time, I was hallucinating three nagging personalities; I quaked under the expectations I thought others had of me; I felt like a fake because my inner thoughts weren’t consistent with my outer actions.
         I knew I was experiencing a nervous breakdown but I was such a fine actress that I faked being normal. No one seemed to realize just how emotionally bruised and mentally ill I was. Yet I knew I couldn’t keep up the act infinitely. I was sure that if I stayed I’d end up in the mental institution in Council Bluffs, Iowa, where “crazy” nuns spent the rest of their lives.
         My letter to the Mount community asking for permission to leave was, I think now, probably rambling and disjointed. But I remember that one of the things I stressed was that Mount nuns taught and I was a poor teacher.
         In January 1967, I began working at a publishing house in Dayton, Ohio. Faking normalcy took its toil, and I’d fallen into a deep malaise. But once again, no one realized this because of my acting ability. I knew what normal looked like and I feigned it. My one certainty was that I’d failed in everything I set out to be as a nun. 
         Several weeks after I left the convent, Sister Madonna, who taught in the psychology department of Mount Saint Scholastica College, sent me a letter. She was older than I and I’d never taught with her. In fact, I knew only her name and her reputation as a woman of great graciousness, wholeness, and learning.
         In her letter, Madonna explained that she’d recently interviewed all the seniors—about 70 students—at the Mount Academy because she was writing a paper for a psychology journal. The fall of 1966, I’d taught English literature and religion to these seniors.
         Madonna wanted me to know that each and every one of them had said I was the finest teacher they’d ever had. She went on to tell me some of the things they’d shared about me and about my teaching.
         Her letter, an unexpected act of kindness, was water in the wilderness in which I wandered lonely and lost.         
         Madonna wanted to assure me, she said, that if I left because I didn’t teach well I could put that reasoning aside. I was an outstanding teacher.
         I shall never, ever, forget the kindness of this woman. She was the Good Samaritan who came upon the beaten and bruised wayfarer and cared for her. I remember taking a deep, gulping breath when I read her letter. I hadn’t totally failed. My life hadn’t been a wasteland. I’d done something well. I felt . . . peace.

PS: Next Wednesday I’ll post Part 2 of the sesquicentennial reunion. Then I’ll return to my convent postings that ended in December 2011. Also, tomorrow—Sunday—I’ll post news about my manuscript entitled “The Reluctant Spy” on my other blog—wordcrafting: a writer’s blog.

40 comments:

  1. Giving selflessly is a wonderful feeling. You just made me realize how wonderful.
    Thanks for sharing.

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    1. Dear Janit, I glad this posting spoke to you. And thanks for stopping by for a visit. Peace.

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  2. You were blessed to know her!!

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    1. Dear Fishducky, yes. I didn't know her well because she was a few years older than I and had entered the convent several years before I did. But everyone know the kindness of Sister Madonna. Peace.

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  3. Kindness often comes from unexpected sources. That is the stuff that is real.

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    1. Dear Manzanita, I so agree with you. Unexpected and surprising. Peace.

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  4. This post is so touching. I'm grateful this wonderful woman took the time to send you this affirmation. I'm sure you have carried it with you as a blessing throughout your life.

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    1. Dear Sally, yes, I have carried this blessing throughout my life. It gave me hope when I was so unsure of my teaching abilities. Peace.

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  5. Wow...I too am so glad she sent you this affirmation. Funny how we humans look at ourselves and see imperfection. I had an old, obese, deaf and blind, ugly chihuahua that loved himself so much. He thought he was the very coolest and thought we should think so too... so we did!!! Wonderful post, as usual...

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    1. Dear Turquoisemoon, most of my life, I've been unsure of myself--how I looked, how I spoke, what I did or didn't do--so much censure of myself by me. Finally, in the last few years, I been able to let go of that and to accept who I am. The truth is that I have come to appreciate and like myself. And that's such a lovely feeling. Peace.

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  6. One letter can sure mean a lot, she sure gave you a ton with it.

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    1. Dear Pat, you're right--a ton of belief in my teaching ability and a sure knowledge that complimenting others can boost their belief in themselves. Peace.

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  7. You make me realize two things: one, it's not possible for us to know the effect we have on others, and two, taking the time to communicate with someone not present can be a life-changing event to that person. You were indeed a good teacher and didn't know it. And Madonna was another person who changed the trajectory of your life. Wonderful story. :-)

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    1. Dear DJan, one of the things I'm most sure about after having my life touched so frequently by kindness is that a simple compliment sincerely given to the person we meet in the grocery store or the clerk waiting on us or the mechanic who services our car can make the difference for that person as to whether a day is good or only so-so. We lift spirits with sincere compliments. And maybe, like Madonna, we change the "trajectory" of the lives of others. What a wonderful phrase that is, DJan. Thank you for it. Peace.

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  8. She certainly did not have to write that letter. How wonderful that she took the time and was able to lift you out of that dark hole of self doubt.
    Just a wonderful story that emphasizes how much kind, honest words can change a person's life. We should all be quick to give kudos when they are due.

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    1. Dear Arkansas Patti, I so agree with you--kudos, compliments, words of gratitude. All of those can make a difference. They surely have in my life. Peace.

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  9. Oh Dee. I wept as I read these postings. And then wept again when I read of how Sister Madonna reached out to you. Such generosity. And I love that she shared just how much you had meant to your students. I suspect you just wouldn't have believed it from anyone else.
    Hugs.

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    1. Dear EC, it's true. Knowing the graciousness and gentleness and honesty of Madonna--even though I knew these only through the words of others in the convent--I was ready to accept that somehow I truly had not been a failure. And that maybe, just maybe, my teaching had been successful. Peace.

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  10. I love this. Just goes to show, you never know who you touch with kindness even if you yourself are not in a good place.

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    1. Dear Juli, all these postings have a foundation, I think, in my belief in the Holy Oneness of All Creation of which Evelyn (Monday), Paullene (Tuesday), the nuns at Mount Saint Scholastica Monastery (Thursday), Marge (Friday), and Madonna (Saturday), and myself and you and the cats with whom I live and all of those who have touched our lives or will touch them are a part. I hope only that my touch is a gentle one, for I have surely known gentleness. Peace.

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  11. What an amazing, wonderful, GOOD act she did. If we were all about spreading more of God's goodness in this world, we could really be changing things. Love this!

    My internet woes continue, so I am brief today.

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    1. Dear Shelly, truly, "an amazing, wonderful, GOOD act." I have a card on my refrigerator that says that all goodness begins with ONE act.

      I'm so sorry your internet woes continue. Technology flusters me and when it's not working I start worrying and often have a minor panic attack. So I hope that soon all will go well for you and the Internet. Peace.

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  12. That letter came at a time when you needed it the most. What a wonderful gift she gave you! Wow! :) :)

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    1. Dear Rita, indeed, a wonderful gift that touches my life even today. Peace.

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  13. What a wonderful lady, Sister Madonna, was/is... For her to write and tell you what your students had said to her was just wonderful. I'm sure it lifted your spirits unlike anything else at that point in your life.

    We humans never know how we (in small ways) can help someone else in need... We just need to step out and do these 'random acts of kindness'....

    Great post.
    Hugs,
    Betsy

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    1. Dear Betsy, Marge (Friday's posting) really taught me that I needed to stop thinking of myself and start concentrating on others. And I've discovered that when I do that I see how and when I can reach out to help others. There's so much joy in that, isn't there? Peace.

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  14. What an interesting experience. I am reading with great curiosity.

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    1. Dear Lorna, I hope to return tomorrow to blogging so I'll be stopping by your blog next week with "great curiosity" also! Peace.

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  15. That's so lovely, Dee. I knew all along that you were a great teacher.

    Love,
    Janie

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    1. Dear Janie, thank you for your belief in me. Peace.

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  16. How great that she took the time to write to you and it was just what you needed to hear about your teaching. As for being able to act normal you are not the only one I think some of the best actors are those of us who act normal day in and day out and hide our pain and how we are falling apart inside

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    1. Dear Jo-Anne, in the years since all this happened, I have learned that so many of us are actors. We play the role we think is normal and acceptable and don't let others see, as you say, that "we are falling apart inside." Peace.

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  17. Some wonderful people have come into your life at just the right times, it seems to me. It must have been a terrible time for you to know that you were losing ground emotionally and psychologically, yet also know enough to fake "being okay." I hope you have learned how strong you really are, Dee. oxo Debra

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    1. Dear Debra, thanks for reading all these random-act-of-kindness posting. I so hope that today--Monday--I'll get back to reading and commenting on blogs I follow. I've missed your wonderful history excursions in California.

      As to being strong, a counselor with whom I've spoken once a month for the last five years has really helped me realize that I am a strong person. I'm so glad to have lived as long as I have because I've had the opportunity to realize the meaning of my life. That's been a great gift. Peace.

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  18. Talk about manna in the wilderness! What a wonderfully kind and encourage thing to do at at time when she must have realised you were at your lowest ebb, Dee. She must have been a very fine woman.

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    1. Dear Perpetua, yes, indeed, manna! Madonna didn't need to send that letter. It came from the pure kindness of her heart. She was such a whole individual. So sound of mind and spirit and soul. Peace.

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  19. What a beautiful, caring gift Madonna gave you at such a critical time! Her kindness was obviously another step along your way to wholeness and healing.

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    1. Dear Kathy, the journey toward wholeness and healing has been a long one for me and yet--as these posts have shown not only blog readers, but myself--all along the way friends has stepped forward and aided me on the way. My life has been so blessed. Peace.

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  20. Your posts on acts of kindness have me thinking of the many acts bestowed upon me as well, Dee. The time one takes, as Sister Madonna took, to send a letter of affirmation are often just the thing we need to hold on to when we are struggling. Here you are, all these years later, remembering her and the others and what blessings they have been to you.

    I still have a note from a young woman I once worked with. At the time, she was a young, unwed mother, trying to put her life together. Her second day of work, she came in sniffling and coughing with a cold. Up and down the office she went, doing everyone else's bidding. All I did was reach out with a box of Kleenex, and went back to my work. Several year went by, she moved on to a better job and married. Her life was coming together. I received the note in the mail. She thanked me for the box of Kleenex, Dee, saying it was a turning point in her life. Someone cared enough to give her tissues. I still have the note. It reminds me of life's little gifts. The note, as it is, came at a time for me when I needed to hear that I mattered. Now, I've rambled again. Sorry.

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    1. Dear Penny, this is a beautiful story and illustrates to me just how mysterious the Oneness of all creation is--that a Kleenex box, handed to someone as a simple act of awareness that she is in need--can be a turning point in one's life. And then, that she writes you a letter just when you need to hear that you "mattered." Your story makes me want to kneel as before the burning bush--like Moses. Thank you so much for sharing it. Peace.

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