Journey of the Foundresses

This beginning of journeys did several nuns make at St. Mary’s Abbey, Glencairn, when on the 28th to 31st of August, 1949, eight of them went to Dublin by car for medical examinations, before receiving their visas for the American foundation, the exodus for which took place on September 23rd.
  The last few days before leaving Glencairn were blessedly full with the affairs of departure, especially the packing of all the trunks and bags; so much so that a visiting priest from Mt. Melleray remarked that what a monk had could be packed in his pocket.  The last day itself was hectic to say the least, everyone trying to keep recollected and realize what we were doing, and the novices gauging the time for changing their white veils.  All good-byes were said in the morning.  The novitiate had their own private tear-party, for they had lived together in close companionship for nearly two years, and the parting was keenly felt.

About an hour before we left, tea was served to us in royal style in the little refectory, a prelude, although we didn’t know it then, to a whole week of such teas on the ocean.  Just after this, the novices changed their white into black veils and that was the definite signal for the final move.  Several of them were coming down the infirmary stairs when they met two others coming up.  They were so surprised and tickled at the sight of the black veils that they promptly dropped on their knees and gave Pax all over again!  It was a refreshing little incident at such a moment.

We had been popping in and out of dear Lady Abbess’s room all day, with business and without business, but now we had to go for our passports and incidentally, black travelling cloaks, the most uncomfortable things.

We all waited outside her door after this, for the signal to go to choir for the final good-bye; it happened that the rest of the community waited at the other end of the cloister by the church door.  It was very striking—the separation had already taken place.  Finally, we paraded up to choir and knelt in the outer Mass stalls, while the “staying” ones stood in the inner stalls, gazing at us.  We didn’t dare look at anyone.  M. Kevin gave out the “Benedictus” and did it admirably, considering the circumstances.  It was a very simple ceremony, but no doubt, the most impressive that ever took place in that choir.  We came last in the procession, and as the community came to a stop and formed a line on each side of the cloister, we kept right on through the parlor door and then out the enclosure door, dear Sr. Joseph standing ample guard beside it.  No one could remember what the “Benedictus” sounded like at that moment.  It was referred to later as that “funeral procession.”  At that very private moment, what met us as we came out but a news-camera lens!  Our departed composure was relentlessly brought back, and the shuffle for cars contributed to revive us somewhat.  But about half the group had to wait for the Melleray cars, and so as we drove off, we had to leave them standing there, looking exactly like a group of little orphans, protected by the wall of the dear old Abbey Church.

They say that one must never look back, but we certainly did and were glad of it.  The Abbey is a beautiful sight from a little way up the lane.  Our driver was Fr. Coleman, Fr. Carthage’s friend, home from Australia, the latter, of course, came along with us, too.

We stopped for a few moments at the new shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes, a short distance from Glencairn, an exact replica.  It was a beautiful day, too, and when we reached Cork about 4 o’clock, the drive seemed very short, probably because we were going instead of coming!

We stopped beside the Steam-lines office to transact passport and ticket business—Father Carthage was our runner.  Br. Kieran pulled up right behind us; he had been following us all the way.  In the meantime, two street singers struck up catchy ditty on their accordions and accompanied it by singing with great gusto.  Someone gave them money to sing “The Rose of Tralee” for us!  They really had very good voices, real Irish tenors, but somewhat hoarse due, no doubt, to the effort of trying to be heard in their rather large concert hall.

To be continued...