Giants of Stability/Pillars of Strength

Though we knew it was necessary, the mighty oak trees had to go! As the sound of a saw cutting into our faithful sentinels pierced the quiet of our monastic setting, a sadness permeated our conversation. The eight of them shaded the walkway of our front entrance like the gothic arches of the cathedral, welcoming visitors and worshippers, entering beneath the beautiful stained-glass window leading to our chapel. One by one, they crashed to the ground, the pieces cut up and carried away to become logs for someone’s fireplace. Suddenly, new sunlight was streaming into the building, but nearly blinding me later in the day as I returned from school. It was all so barren!

These trees had been here all my life, as well as for the other members of my community. I was reminded of the Sisters’ tombstones, Sisters whom I considered among the strongest leaders I had known, and who have passed on to their eternal reward:

·         Sr Vincentia, first director/principal of our academy, much beloved by all her students. She greeted me so warmly when I first visited here as an eighth grader; she was already elderly then and I could tell by the reverence in the voice of the Sister who introduced me, that she was highly respected. In awe, I visited her on her deathbed when I was a very young Sister and treasure those moments. Later I heard the legend of her demand to the Ku Klux Klan to leave our property as she brandished her brother’s pistol, protecting her girls in the school.

·         There was Sr. Hilda, member of the first graduating class of our academy who, as prioress, took out a million- dollar mortgage to add a new building to it. During her term the year of our centennial celebration occurred: 266 members were listed in the Challenge, a commemorative publication of 1959!

·          I remember Srs Miriam and Aileen, holding the longest tenure in leadership at the academy.  Girls of my generation always think of them together, one was principal, the other was directress of the boarding school. Like the one oak tree that split into two trunks about half way up, we always named them together.

·         There was Sr. Benedict who led us through the changes following Vatican II and had the foresight to build a senior citizen complex with nursing home at the east end of our property.

·         Sr.  Aurelia was my principal when we opened the new St.  Pius X school on Dudley Road, now one of the largest schools in our diocese;

·         Sr. Elizabeth was a marvelous math teacher, who could fix just about anything that needed repair in those days, even the elevator!

·         Sr. Callista was a hardy nurse who traveled the Ky. Mountain area ministering to the sick along the way.

·         And there are others, but that gives me eight to remember with gratitude.  They left much behind as a legacy for us.

Like their tombstones, we had eight large stumps in our front yard, more than a yard in diameter.  The roots may still exist, hidden beneath the smooth surface, waiting for new plantings.  But we have to go on without those pillars of strength.

Sr. Mary Carol Hellmann, OSB

To the Oaks

Hail, giant stately survivors,                                                                     

Weathering frigid winds and humid heat,

 lavishly popping kernels of acorns on the walk beneath,

(as everyone knows who has crunched through them)

Urging life to upspring into the future.

You were young’uns, yourselves,

eighty years or so ago.                                                                                                    

You out-sized your neighbors.

With towering high-rise canopies, and rooted deep,

You appeared as staunch sentinels enclosing the way.

You always had room for more inhabitants,               

from the hidden, least noticed, down-deep creature

 to the most melodious bird or roguish squirrel.

You urged life to upspring into the future.

Your presence welcomed Sunday visiting relatives and friends –

 children played under you, crisscrossing your leafy, shadowed patterns. 

You witnessed laughter, joy and, sometimes, tears.

Many a soul intuitively sensed your strength, stability, awesomeness,

 And, hopefully, left refreshed. 

You will be re-membered (not just in Sr. Mary’s album).

 In the ground nurtured by your deepest-down strands,

 young’uns (Oaks? We don’t yet know) will grow…

green and full and vibrant with life –

the new Guardians of the monastery way –

 inviting all who enter here, to seek peace and pursue it.

 That in all things God may be glorified!

    Sr. Sharon Portwood, OSB

The holy seed is its stump*.

          Over the past year several large branches of our seventy + year old pin oaks which were approximately 75 feet high spontaneously fell onto the walk leading to the monastery’s front door. Clearly it was no longer safe to keep the trees.
               These pin oaks were planted in 1937, the year this monastery building was erected. Each of the current members of the community walked beside or under the oaks as she entered. Over the past week we have watched and heard the whirring blades and heavy thuds as those eight mighty oaks were taken down, branch by branch and trunk by trunk. Right now, only the stumps remain.
                         Eventually they will be grounded out and something new will be planted. In the meantime, we will see and appreciate the main entrance with its expanded openness.
         An aside: Never having seen such large trees cut down I was amazed and grateful to the team of men who did all the work. Their task was not easy, but their skills kept them and our front entry safe.
          *Isaiah 6:13


              Sr. Mary Catherine Wenstrup, OSB