Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

By Sr. Nun Other

As a child, Pennsylvania born, I enjoyed warm afternoons under the shade trees in our yard. My sister and I would picnic on peanut butter sandwiches and watch the sky dance between branches. As an adult on Cape Cod, I gravitated toward sunny beaches and beautiful sunsets without regret; however, circumstances recently led me to a lawn chair beneath a cluster of oak trees. It was a fascinating experience, both the present reality and the memories it evoked. Two squirrels shared the space, swinging from tree limbs, juggling acorns, and chattering to one another. Perhaps they sensed my presence; one chunky fellow suddenly fastened himself head-down on a tree trunk. Flattened against the bark, a natural camouflage, he was all but invisible.

I sometimes do a human version of this disappearing act. I flatten myself against an inward wall, facial expression neutral, unreadable and unreachable, emotion and reactions restrained. While the squirrel was protecting himself from possible predators, I protect myself from the reality of who I am unfiltered. In so doing, I block my need for Jesus and His desire to transform my life.

The Community of Jesus

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About Sr. Nun Other

May 16, 2012, completed my 30th year as a Sister. It was both a milestone and just another day in an interesting journey. Some of those thirty years included singing with Gloriae Dei Cantores, marching in Spirit of America band, and serving on our Sisters Council. As a monastic, I live surrounded by beauty and within a frame work of opportunity and possibility. I'm sixty-four (much to my surprise) and extremely grateful for my life as a sister - past, present, and future.

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