Saturday, December 13, 1997

Nuns provide a neighborhood haven for children

By PEG MEIER / Minneapolis-St. Paul Star Tribune

MINNEAPOLIS -- Children streamed into the monastery yard from all directions. The youngsters were after treats, chances to ride the nuns' bikes and scooter, some kind words, hugs, safe laps and somebody to listen -- not necessarily in that order.

To the children in this impoverished neighborhood, the five Roman Catholic sisters at the Visitation Monastery offer an hour of peace and fun -- if not calm -- four afternoons a week.

These are not nuns whose mission is social work. They're praying nuns, part of a contemplative order supported by alms. But they intentionally chose to live in a troubled neighborhood where their lives might serve as a quiet example.

The children realize that. Lionel Timms, 12, said of the sisters, "They talk nice. They never, ever, ever, ever mention you-know-who -- the devil. Nobody does when they're here." Pushed to give examples, he said that the nuns never say, "I'm going to beat you up" or "I better not see you on the street."

When the nuns moved in eight years ago, they welcomed neighborhood adults and children. "The children really discovered us early," Sister Mary Margaret McKenzie said. "We were glad to see them, but they started coming at all hours of the day. Sometimes the same child would be here six times a day."

That can be disruptive to nuns whose life is to think and pray and chant. Four times a day they pray the liturgy of the hours, and they have an hour of silent meditation. They believe that prayer changes things.

Within a year after they arrived, they initiated "windsock time." Beginning at 3:30 p.m. on most Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, the nuns and the children spend a playful hour together.

This day, Sister Mary Virginia Schmidt pitched a softball to batters in the alley. Sister Karen Mohan covered little people in piles of leaves. Sister Mary Margaret made caramel sauce to drizzle over apple slices, served on the porch. Sister Mary Frances Reis had some serious talks, some joking with kids. Sister Suzanne Homeyer carted kids on imaginary trips around the world, incorporating geography with wagon rides.

When winter comes, the children are invited inside for crafts, reading, snacks and prayers. The monastery is a 1902 house, lovingly restored by the sisters and helpers. The nuns don't wear habits; they have simple, contemporary clothes. They're not cloistered -- lay people enter the house for meetings, prayers, discussions, house repairs. And they're not stereotypical nuns; they never, ever, ever, ever rap the children's knuckles with a ruler. In fact, some visitors are surprised that the nuns' lives seem so normal.

Melissa Osborn, 12, said, "I like the sisters. They're very nice people. We got something in common. They go to church every Sunday, and I go to church every Sunday."

Rozenia Fuller stopped by to chat. She's an African-American woman from the neighborhood and a poet. On her visits to the monastery, she's usually with her children. Her 4-year-old daughter, Rosetta, was first in the family to be interested in the monastery. The girl liked the murals painted on the garage and on the back of the house.

"Even before she met the sisters, she sensed the peace in this yard and in this house," Fuller said. The child loves to sit on a ledge outside the house and listen to the nuns sing in prayer.

"My daughter is frustrated because we're always in a hurry," Fuller said. "She's content with just sitting here and listening."

And now that Rosetta and her brother know the nuns, they've been invited to smell the flowers, see the tomatoes turn red and make snowmen in the yard.

In the family's church, there's joyous singing and dancing and weeping and speaking in tongues. "This is a very different atmosphere, but just as welcoming," Fuller said. "It's very validating, just to walk into this house. It's celebrating and embracing, not just tolerating. It's not like in the workplace, where African-Americans have to be a neutral gray. Here, be yourself, who you are."

Time for evening prayers. The nuns entered the chapel, once the home's library. Sister Karen explained that she might have to leave: "If the man with the computer comes, I'll leave you all to vespers." The computer had crashed, and it had to be resurrected to produce address labels by the next morning.

Sister Virginia began prayers by chanting: "The Lord is my light and help; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; before whom shall I shrink?"

The solemnity was interrupted. The computer man arrived. The phone rang. The security alarm shrieked. Volume picked up in the dining room, where friends of the monastery were arranging camp next summer for neighborhood children.

Trying to carry on, Sister Virginia read, "Do not abandon or forsake me, O God, my help! Though father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me." Virginia reflected aloud that neighborhood children who are separated from their parents, for one reason or another, will realize that nonetheless they are loved by God.

As if on cue, children rang the front doorbell with determination. They were two girls from the block, wanting to come in. Whether they came for treats or prayers wasn't clear, but when invited, they said, yes, they did want to join in the prayers. They sat reverently, huddled together, jackets on, fingering the words in the breviary, sneaking little glances at the nuns in prayer. Afterward, the nuns gave them a treat of apple slices and fruit roll-ups, plus hugs and sweet words, and then sent the girls home.

These children, had they been neglected by father and mother? It would be such a tidy lesson after the scripture reading. But, no, it was more complicated. The nuns said that they don't know much about the girls' families, but they know that one girl lives with her mother, who has a job and loves her children. For that, the nuns gave thanks.

The nuns are less sure about the other child. They think she has been taken in by a neighborhood woman. The girl doesn't often get to see her mother, who leads what the nuns discreetly call "a troubled life." Yet, on the girl's ninth birthday, she proudly showed the nuns a wallet-sized photo of her mother. On the back the mother had written: "No matter what anybody says, your mama loves you."

The nuns don't have activities for teenagers, but they're hoping to start something for that age group, perhaps on Saturday evenings.

While these nuns don't give food to the hungry, clothing to the cold or jobs to the unemployed, they know where to find help for their people. One reason they chose this neighborhood was because it's rich in social services. The sisters said that the ZIP code is the worst in the cities for domestic abuse.

"And yet, these kids are wonderful," said Sister Mary Margaret. "They're not terrible kids; they're fun, loving, intelligent, artistic kids. Sometimes it's hard to see they're so gifted and wonder how well they'll be recognized in this society."

(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service.)