During all her 68 years in Holy Cross, Sister Dorothy Anne has been writing verses.  Her first publication as a Sister of the Holy Cross was in Chimes, the Saint Mary’s College literary magazine, and this was followed by a number of others in various magazines.  Two of those published were later republished.  One, “Exchange,” was included in Alfred Noyes’ Golden Book of Catholic Poetry; another, “Damascus Road,” appeared in the Faith and Freedom series of readers.

Sister Dorothy Anne’s own collections have also been produced:  The Whale We Cherish, her first, came off the press in 1963; her latest, Honeycomb, in 1999.

Ever since her first Christmas in the novitiate, Sister Dorothy Anne has been writing her own Christmas poem as a gift for her friends.  For as she says, “There I was.  I hadn’t even seen a store in almost a year and I had not a penny to my name.  Like the little shepherd, I had to give of what I had.”  And so it has continued down through the years.  About six or seven years ago, she published a group of these under the title Sing a Song of Christmas.  Her last publication, a combination of prose and verse on the Stations of the Cross, appeared under the title Among Those Present.

After 43 years in teaching, Sister Dorothy Anne began studies to become a licensed practical nurse.  She says she got her nursing license and her Medicare card all about the same time.  Since 1977 she has been involved in nursing, first in Virginia and then at Holy Cross Hospital in Silver Spring, Maryland, where she is still currently employed, and is still writing.  Sister Dorothy Anne has even moved into the 21st century by having one of her poems published on an Internet Web site.

Here is her first-person view of her life as a Sister of the Holy Cross:

A long time ago, I decided that if I ever wrote my autobiography as a Sister of the Holy Cross, I would start out by saying, “It all began with joy!”  And I would be able to end it with, “Now after almost 70 years in the Congregation, I can conclude in the same way:  ‘It was always joy!’”

Don’t get me wrong, and don’t confuse joy with happiness; happiness comes to all of us in measured doses.  Anyone who is happy all the time is either a few sandwiches less than a picnic or living on some other planet.  Joy is something that exists within one’s being, and the deeper the joy, the less the turbulence of life disturbs it.

My vocation just sort of happened. I was a sophomore in high school before I ever met a sister, but from the moment of my first encounter with them I became aware that these women were deep-down joyous.  They were also the hardest working people I had ever encountered and had the fewest obvious things one usually associates with happiness.  From five in the morning until whenever time they got to bed at night, these sisters did the cooking, the serving, the cleaning of pots and pans; they did the scrubbing and waxing of floors from bathroom to parquet (before electrical equipment rendered the process relatively simple); they washed windows, inside and out, and polished brass.  From eight o’clock each week day until three and often later, they spent in the classroom; they presided recesses and lunch rooms, and in boarding schools they taught, presided, dined with and slept in the dormitories with their students — a 24-hour-a-day assignment.  In their “spare time” they went to school — afternoons, evenings and Saturdays — garnering credits one by one toward their college degrees (often receiving them 40 years from starting time!).  Not even Sundays were free, since they traveled across the city or into rural areas to teach Sunday school.

And the joy remained!  Tears, frustration, fatigue and failures co-existed with sustaining friendships, small festivities (that loomed monumentally in the humdrum of the years), hilarious moments that would unexpectedly occur, leaving them weak from laughter.  The shy response and affection from a neglected little one, the halting confidence of a confused or frightened teenager, gave meaning to their efforts and strength to their endeavors.  And always upon always above all else there was the Bridegroom, the one to whom the vow was made, the one who held them close to his heart; the source of their joy.

That is the story of my vocation — a falling in love with love, with joy!  Every bit of opposition I had to face (and there was plenty . . . from family, from skeptical friends . . . even from the Congregation itself) served only to strengthen me in my conviction:  This was where I belonged, where I wanted to be.

However, as in all good romances, where “love conquers all” in the closing chapters, I am able to write this today, a Sister of the Holy Cross.  I knew when I walked in the front door of the novitiate that it was a “forever” step I was taking.  The cost was high but the reward is “out of this world!”

Vocation
by Sister Dorothy Anne Cahill, CSC

“How do you know?”
They ask me
Looking at me with
Earnest, questioning eyes.
“How do you know
When God is calling?
There are no beckoning lights
Cleaving the skies?”

“How do you know?”
Their words probe deeply,
Reviving anew the memories
Of the years;
Then was the world before me
For my choosing —
Its beauty, fame, and love —
There were no fears.
And yet
The taste of fame that beckoned
Lost its savor;
Ambition’s drive seemed suddenly
To want
And love —
Love grew too large for loving
Without pain.

“How do you know?”
They ask me.
“How did you know that God
Was calling you?”
How did I know?  I cannot
Answer.
I only know
I knew.