By Ginger O'Harrow
First thing I did was to get out my trusty reference books and look up “tenderness.” Synonyms include compassion, kindness, mercy, and blessing.
We can all picture scenes of tenderness: a mother and child, a son wheeling his aged father to a doctor visit, a little boy with a new puppy, long-time friends, a teary-eyed dad walking his daughter down the aisle, young lovers. When Bob & I were dating, there was a popular song named “Tenderly” with beautiful lyrics and melody. It became our song. I’m sure each of you can picture signs of tenderness.
Shakespeare described tenderness beautifully, using the term mercy:
The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
So true that last line. I remember such a kindness given to me many years ago, and I still smile when I think of it.
My mother died in childbirth, leaving four young daughters. I was the oldest of nine. Those days were referred to as “hard times,” and my sisters and I lived the next four years at Chistie Home for Orphan Girls on the Marylhurst campus. Our dad visited us most Sundays, bring treats for all the girls.
Christie housed 120 girls in dormitories of 40 girls each. First Division had 7th and 8th Grades, Second Division had 5th and 6th Grades, and Third Division was for Grades 1 - 4.
Christie was staffed by Holy Names nuns. We were used to nuns as the old St. Charles Sunday School was taught by Holy Child nuns, and we loved them.
I love almost all the nuns at Christie too, especially the teachers. But I, along with every other girl, was terrified by Sr. M., who was in charge of Third Division, and Sr. D. who was in charge of First Division. My first year at Christie, even though I was in 5th Grade, I was allowed to sleep in the Third Division dormitory because of my young sisters.
Some people are unhappy in their jobs and it reflects on others. That is what I think about Sr. M. and Sr. D. I later had Sr. D in 7th and 8th grades, and she was physically abusive.
Sr. M. used words to hurt. She made fun of overweight and sickly girls, and those who wet their beds, of which I was guilty. She ridiculed Bessie Cowan as “Bessie Cow and What.” Sr. M. would line us up and make us crack our knuckles with a rule, “Harder, harder!” She often said, “You’re good for two things: good for nothing, and no good at all.” I would tell myself, “But I’m a good little girl.”
I don’t mean to offend anyone here. I offer these two nuns as a contrast to Sr. Joella, who was in charge of Second Division. I had her for only one year — 6th Grade.
Sr. Joella was very nice and pleasant, always smiling. She was patient with the bedwetters, and she even had a cute name. Each night the girls would sit up in their beds, and Sr. Joella would read chapters of books to us: Nancy Drew, Alice in Wonderland, and others.
Sr. Joella would often lead us in long walks off the campus, at times to Lake Oswego. We’d line up two by two and receive an apple or carrot as a treat. One wintry day, I became especially chilled, and I was limping and hobbling along on cold, numb feet as we returned.
Sr. Joella sat me down and told me to take off my shoes and my long brown stockings. I was surprised to see that my feet had become absolutely white in color.
Sr. Joella placed a pan of warm water at my feet. She then gathered up he long black skirt and knelt down in front of me. She had me put my feet into the warm water and she gently massaged them until the pinkness and warmth and feeling returned. I was both relieved and astonished.
What an act of pure tenderness! Sr Joella demonstrated mercy and tenderness and humility from one in charge to the least of her brethren. Shakespeare was right, “Mercy blesses her that gives and her that takes.”
I have never forgotten this kindness. She not only warmed my feet that day, she also warmed my heart. And she taught me an important life lesson. I have always loved Sr. Joella.
First thing I did was to get out my trusty reference books and look up “tenderness.” Synonyms include compassion, kindness, mercy, and blessing.
We can all picture scenes of tenderness: a mother and child, a son wheeling his aged father to a doctor visit, a little boy with a new puppy, long-time friends, a teary-eyed dad walking his daughter down the aisle, young lovers. When Bob & I were dating, there was a popular song named “Tenderly” with beautiful lyrics and melody. It became our song. I’m sure each of you can picture signs of tenderness.
Shakespeare described tenderness beautifully, using the term mercy:
The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
So true that last line. I remember such a kindness given to me many years ago, and I still smile when I think of it.
My mother died in childbirth, leaving four young daughters. I was the oldest of nine. Those days were referred to as “hard times,” and my sisters and I lived the next four years at Chistie Home for Orphan Girls on the Marylhurst campus. Our dad visited us most Sundays, bring treats for all the girls.
Christie housed 120 girls in dormitories of 40 girls each. First Division had 7th and 8th Grades, Second Division had 5th and 6th Grades, and Third Division was for Grades 1 - 4.
Christie was staffed by Holy Names nuns. We were used to nuns as the old St. Charles Sunday School was taught by Holy Child nuns, and we loved them.
I love almost all the nuns at Christie too, especially the teachers. But I, along with every other girl, was terrified by Sr. M., who was in charge of Third Division, and Sr. D. who was in charge of First Division. My first year at Christie, even though I was in 5th Grade, I was allowed to sleep in the Third Division dormitory because of my young sisters.
Some people are unhappy in their jobs and it reflects on others. That is what I think about Sr. M. and Sr. D. I later had Sr. D in 7th and 8th grades, and she was physically abusive.
Sr. M. used words to hurt. She made fun of overweight and sickly girls, and those who wet their beds, of which I was guilty. She ridiculed Bessie Cowan as “Bessie Cow and What.” Sr. M. would line us up and make us crack our knuckles with a rule, “Harder, harder!” She often said, “You’re good for two things: good for nothing, and no good at all.” I would tell myself, “But I’m a good little girl.”
I don’t mean to offend anyone here. I offer these two nuns as a contrast to Sr. Joella, who was in charge of Second Division. I had her for only one year — 6th Grade.
Sr. Joella was very nice and pleasant, always smiling. She was patient with the bedwetters, and she even had a cute name. Each night the girls would sit up in their beds, and Sr. Joella would read chapters of books to us: Nancy Drew, Alice in Wonderland, and others.
Sr. Joella would often lead us in long walks off the campus, at times to Lake Oswego. We’d line up two by two and receive an apple or carrot as a treat. One wintry day, I became especially chilled, and I was limping and hobbling along on cold, numb feet as we returned.
Sr. Joella sat me down and told me to take off my shoes and my long brown stockings. I was surprised to see that my feet had become absolutely white in color.
Sr. Joella placed a pan of warm water at my feet. She then gathered up he long black skirt and knelt down in front of me. She had me put my feet into the warm water and she gently massaged them until the pinkness and warmth and feeling returned. I was both relieved and astonished.
What an act of pure tenderness! Sr Joella demonstrated mercy and tenderness and humility from one in charge to the least of her brethren. Shakespeare was right, “Mercy blesses her that gives and her that takes.”
I have never forgotten this kindness. She not only warmed my feet that day, she also warmed my heart. And she taught me an important life lesson. I have always loved Sr. Joella.