Sister, when are you going to kick that habit? Oh wait, you did.

I spent the first part of this week working at a conference held by the office where I work. No, let me rephrase myself. I spent this week sitting behind a table full of posters and various "privately published" books, observing a gathering of the strangest mix of people who had come together for the triennial History of Women Religious Conference.

Now you may think, "Oh cute! Playing with old nuns!" Yeah. That's what I thought too. But then they came. It would be hard to really paint an accurate picture of what I observed over the four days I sat at my post, but there are a few words and phrases that might send you in the general direction.

Socks and sandals. Pedometer. Elastic-waisted culottes. Wash-and-wear hair. "Can I get a refund? That cafeteria is just too loud." "My bedroom in that O'Neill Hall was so sparse! And having to share bathrooms? Why, I hardly slept a wink last night." "Did you see which way the IHMs went? We were going to Happy Hour at the Morris!" A box of books mailed in advance with about 50 $0.39 stamps to cover postage. Plastic Bookstore bags covering permed hair in the rain. "Are you going to mark down those posters to half price? $5 is just too much."

These nuns were too funny. Not at all what you'd expect. Only one wore a veil (who happened to be the sweetest lady I met, and the biggest Notre Dame football fan.) She told me that she stopped a huge guy in the DH wearing an ND football shirt and inquired if he was indeed on the team. When he said, "Yes, Sister," she said, "Well, I just want you to know that there are twenty or so sisters in Pennsylvania who pray for you to win every week! We love you!"

There's something magical about a nun in a habit. An aura of mystique, a beauty, a grace. So simple, yet so elegant. Strangely enough, on my lunch jaunt to SDH, I was flanked on either side in the stalls in the Powder Room by Dominicans in full white habits. I immediately wanted to introduce myself at the sink, simply because they were wearing habits. I never would have felt like I could do that with any of the sisters at the conference. The habit says, "I am here for all, to be Christ's hands and feet, to show Our Lord to the world." And yet, seeing in the mirror the reflection of the two of them giggling as they floated off to lunch, they reflected so much joy, so much mirth, such light hearts. (And such adorable Nashville accents.)

I can't help but I wonder if the weight of a veil could give me such a light heart.