Last fall’s post about Sister Amabilis is by far the most-read story on this family blog. Hundreds of her first-grade students – now grown with children and even grandchildren of their own – fondly remember that tiny nun with the huge heart. Thank you to all who shared memories here or on Facebook.

As we continue to sort through a mountain of family archives, delightful surprises about my mom’s aunt keep popping up.

Easter eggs, if you will.

Let’s start with the poems. Undated, they are typed on delicate paper, now yellowed with age. The poems, written by Sr. Amabilis, would perhaps more appropriately be called prayers.

This first one includes the following note: This poem was suggested by the picture of my little first-graders at prayer. I dearly hope one of her literally thousands of former students might have a photo I could add here to illustrate their teacher’s words.

The Nun’s Garden

A host of little flowers that incline
Their pretty petals to the Sovereign Sun
On slender stems soft snowy buds entwine
In adoration of the Holy One.
The ling’ring light of the Heav’n by Beauty spun,
Shines starlike, gracing each bright guileless gaze,
While with sweet prayer her mission here is done,
As fleetly fly the years’ fast-winged days,
Of training men to grow in simple godlike ways.
~ Sr. M. Amabilis

This next, a bit of prose, was written in 1982, nine years before its subject left for heaven. It was written by Elizabeth McDonnell as part of a Senior Citizens Creative Writing Class in Milford, one of the communities where my great-aunt “Mobbie” taught.

Sister of Mercy

A little lady about five feet tall with understanding eyes and a lovely quiet face has molded the beginnings of many future students from Milford, Connecticut.

Sister Amabilis is a teacher’s teacher. Her methods were flawless. Her results were what every parent dreamed of for their six-year-old child.

She was a listener to young and old. Every second-grade teacher wanted to get her class. The children learned the three R’s without flaw. One never heard a disciplinary voice nor an unkind word from this Angel of Mercy.

One day, she came into my room, and we talked about vocations. I knew something of her background. She had been one of the family of Regans who lived high on the hill overlooking the Quinnipiac River. Her family, all of them, were handsome, religious members of St. Francis Church in the Fair Haven section of New Haven. They were often referred to as the “rich Regans” by some of us who lived near them.

Sister said, “It wasn’t easy leaving home, and my father came to see me as often as he could. I prayed so much to be able to serve Almighty God.”

As she told me this, she looked up at the the Cross with the body of the dying Jesus and with all the reverence a human being could have, she said, “I could do anything for Him.”

One day when I had her class in second grade, a little girl said:

“Sister Amabilis says there is no money in Heaven. If it were there, the angels would sweep the money out of Heaven with their wings.“

Sister is now in retirement and some day, if you are passing Sr. Mary’s Convent on Gulf Street, you may be able to see a petite nun nourishing more of God’s creatures as she feeds the birds in our community.

~ Elizabeth McDonnell, 1982

As Holy Week heads into its final days before Easter, I think of dear Sr. Amabilis in heaven. I also think of the many children she helped to understand that there’s much more to Easter than chocolate eggs.

Consider

Consider the lilies of the field
Their beauteous blooms more glory hold
Than regal robes of glittering gold,
Yet they no fruitful labor yield.

Consider the fledglings of the air
They neither sow nor do they reap
Nor for the future nothing keep —
These are the Father’s loving care.

Consider, my heart, the souls of men.
Hath not our Father greater thought
Of what by Precious Blood is bought?
Consider, my heart, the Souls of Men.
~ Sr. M. Amabilis

Her Little Way

O little Rose, that burgeoned out of love
In Carmel’s garden, hidden and unknown,
Whose ruddy petals, touched by God alone,
So sudden burst to bloom in Heaven above,
Around thee wings the Holy Infant’s Dove
Which thou dost send thy secret to impart,
And by its message strengthen every heart
To tread with joy thy Little Way of Love.

Our saving God of us dost not require
The wondrous works of some great, gifted saint,
Or death by sword, or martyrdom of fire,
But He doth plead with patient, piteous plaint
For Love. His Heart revealed this one desire.
Give all He asks, my soul, nor fail, no faint.
~ Sr. M. Amabilis

One of Sr. Amabilis’s duties was to care for the altar in church. When Mom came for a visit, she would bring flowers that together they would place on the altar.

Happy Easter and Passover to all!

“The Nun’s Garden,” “Consider,” “Her Little Way”  © 1982 Sr. M. Amabilis. All rights reserved.

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