Sister Maureen Sinnott

My Life’s Journey by Maureen Sinnott

There is no one that I loved more than my mother, Mona. She was the heart of my life and when she was in her 80’s and giving honorable mention to her many wrinkles, I would reply: “I love every one of your wrinkles; they are beautiful!” She would respond with a radiant smile and a twinkle in her eyes. She was so full of life that even remembering being at her death bed with my family in 2005 brings tears to my eyes. Her last words to me were: “Reen, when you need me, I will be here,” as she touched her heart. Gazing at the reflection of my own 80-year- old wrinkled face in the mirror, I feel overwhelming gratitude for all the relationships I have been blessed with, from within my mother’s womb until now. Every wrinkle reveals a story of joy, grief, and every possible in-between feeling in my relationships with those whom I have loved and who have loved me.

My Dad, Dan, and I were also very close, and I believe my call to religious life was sparked by him and my paternal Grandma, Bertha. My Grandma had been on the Titanic with her brother, Daniel, on that fatal night of April 12,1912. They both were in their early 20’s and she was able to get into one of the last lifeboats. Tragically, her brother drowned and this will be part of our family story for generations to come. My Grandma was a woman of deep faith and passed it on to all of us. My Dad worked in Timken factory in Detroit and my mother cared for all seven of us children: Pat, Dick, Danny, Mike, Patrick, and Tim; I am third eldest and my older sister and brother, Pat and Dick, are already in heaven. We all grew up in Allen Park, Michigan in a home that my parents moved into two weeks after I was born and where my mother lived until her death at the grand age of 87.

My Dad was a dedicated union man and demonstrated in Detroit and Washington DC, advocating for workers’ rights. My mother advocated for those in need physically or emotionally, in our neighborhood and beyond. When she was in her 80’s, she was learning the computer, writing letters to the editor against the war in Iraq and still assisting at the polls during elections. As siblings, we all chose professions of service and advocacy for the marginalized after our parents’ example. They continue to be with us in spirit every year as we gather for our family reunion. My parents were fervent Catholics taking us to Mass and saying grace before meals. Even though my Dad’s salary was just enough to support us, they saved money for us to attend Catholic school. My Dad sang in the choir and my mother belonged to Christian Mothers. I was taught by Sisters of Holy Family of Nazareth in grade school, Sisters of
St. Joseph in high school and Daughters of Charity at Providence School of Nursing. I remember, as a very young child, feeling a call to religious life. In grade and high school after supper, I would ride my bike for a mile to church to go to Benediction. I felt God’s presence deeply, especially in church, and felt drawn to keep returning. After grade and high school, I asked my parents if I could enter the convent; both times they refused saying I needed to get further education in case I left. So, I began nursing school and began dating a very kind young man, which motivated me to find out if I was really called to religious life or marriage. Then I decided to join a community and expected God to either call me a little louder or I would return home. I chose the Medical Missionaries of Mary (MMM) because they were Irish, served in Africa in health care, wore shorter skirts and veils that revealed more hair than other nuns. My parents agreed to let me try it out, and later told me they expected me to return home within the year.

I flew from Detroit to Boston and joined 14 other young women to begin this adventure. By first profession, there were only 5 of us left and we were probably the most mischievous ones of the bunch. We have remained faithful friends for over 60 years! After profession, I graduated from Catherine Laboure School of Nursing, flew to Ireland to study Midwifery, then was assigned to Taiwan for 8 years. The first two years were spent studying Mandarin in Hsinchu, with other young sisters and priests from around the world, which was enriching, inspiring and fun! Our MMM community was far from there. It took a long train ride followed by a long bus ride through beautiful mountains to our small hospital in Taitung. Three older MMM’s from Ireland had already been there a few years and welcomed me with open arms and gratitude that I would be taking turns on night duty. I whole-heartedly embraced the Taiwanese culture and assumed I would live there for the rest of my life. The friendships, experiences and enculturation enchanted me and a highlight was making my final profession in Mandarin. Besides midwifery, I helped a couple, Chris and Rollie Hopgood, adopt a baby, Mei-Ling, which took eight months to get through all the red tape. Finally, a lawyer for the Hopgoods had to officially appoint Fr. Peter Cheng and myself to apply for and adopt Mei-Ling for them. Trust me, I felt like I was her mother after caring and loving her for eight months and found it difficult to let her go. It would take a book to tell the story of her life and she eventually wrote it, called Lucky Girl. Then one of the Chinese priests asked me to visit three prisoners on death row for murder and take them bibles. I began visiting them; they began reading their bibles; the Holy Spirit hovered over them; and all three were converted and baptized before they were executed, which was, of course, heart-rending. Soon after this, I attended our General Chapter in Rome where it was decided that we needed to close our Taiwan mission because we did not have enough sisters to serve in Africa, Brazil and Taiwan. Daughters of Charity took over our hospital and leaving Taiwan and my friends was agonizing. My Dad flew to Taiwan to travel home with me through Hong Kong, Thailand, India, Greece and all over Europe in a van with my good friend, Shirley Smith MMM (who had joined our Taitung community a short time before), my brother, Danny, his wife Judy, their three young children and my 18-year-old brother, Tim. This was an unforgettable family adventure!

When I returned to the U.S, I was asked to prepare to be Novice Directress and attended Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, graduating with an M.A. in Religion and Personality. However, at that time there were no novices, so I was assigned to Tanzania, East Africa. My ministry continued to be midwifery and I also began learning on the job, how to give anesthetics during surgery, and thankfully, everyone survived! I remember the many nights when our security guard and a nurse would call “Sister” through my window to wake me up for a delivery. With our flashlights and the light of the moon, the sound of hyenas crying out in the distance, and watching out for snakes, we walked over to the hospital. Did I mention that I have always been afraid of spiders and crawling things? The guard carried a long stick to help us keep safe no matter what! In the small delivery room with an oil lamp for light, I often encountered
difficult deliveries that were way beyond my training, and yes, they also lived happily ever after! My Dad visited me in Tanzania and was touched and inspired by the Sisters, the diverse tribes’ hospitality, especially the Maasai, where Dad and I stayed overnight in a mud hut, the beauty of the country, wild animals, and culture. My mother was afraid to fly, so she missed out on so much of these special cross-cultural adventures. When young women began to join MMM’s again, I was called back to the U.S. as novice directress and was elected to our provincial council. In the early 80’s, we had a Congregational Formation Meeting in Kenya. I flew to Tanzania and joined our Tanzanian sisters, driving to Kenya for the meeting. Unfortunately, the sister driving fell asleep at the wheel. I was sitting next to her and flew over her and out her window to the roadside. I was hospitalized in Kenya and X-rays showed a hairline fracture of my neck. The doctors kept me lying flat on my back with a neck brace for two weeks, then had me flown by stretcher to N.Y, where I was hospitalized for another two weeks. I finally returned to Boston, and my mother, sister, and niece came to visit me by train, to make sure I was fully recovered. After being novice directress for one term, I was asked to do a second term. I agreed and asked to study psychology at the end of the two terms. The General Council in Ireland agreed to this, but when I finished the second term, the congregation had decided to focus on the medical model of healing, rather than to include spiritual direction and psychology. After discerning with my spiritual directress for some months, it was clear that I had no desire to leave religious life but did feel a deep call to help those with mental health issues, especially those with major problems who could not afford therapy. This call had begun when I lived in Taiwan and many people with mental health issues would come to me for help.

To make a long story short, I decided to leave MMM’s, work full time as a nurse at a psychiatric hospital to support myself, and eventually apply for a Ph.D. program at California School of Professional Psychology, which had been recommended. I was advised by The Vicar of Religious in San Francisco to ask the Franciscan Sisters in Redwood City to live with them. They welcomed me and within a few months, while Linda Gonzales was giving me a perm, she asked if I had thought of joining their congregation. A few days later, another sister asked me the same question which prompted me to ask God: Is this really You calling me here? In dialogue with the provincial and community, I began taking the necessary steps to enter and be professed as a Franciscan by taking classes at Franciscan School of Theology, learning more about the Congregation, and meeting more sisters. At the same time, I was studying psychology at CSPP and working full time as a nurse at a nearby psychiatric hospital. Eventually, I was professed as a Franciscan and later graduated with a Ph.D. in Psychology.

In 1992, my Dad was diagnosed with cancer again with a prognosis of two years. He came to visit me in California and soon after, I moved back to my hometown to be closer to him. I had joined the MMM’s when I was 18, missed my family throughout many years, and now was back with my Dad during his time of preparing for death. I was blessed to be with my family as he took his last breath and I still miss his love, affirmation, and encouragement by writing me a letter every Sunday afternoon, no matter which country I was living in. I had already begun a private practice and it quickly developed into a full-time, thriving, practice. I was also active in various social justice groups and a board member of Pax Christi, Michigan and Freedom House for Refugees and Survivors of Torture. No matter how busy, I made quality time for my mother. During those years, my brother Patrick who for years had been advocating and assisting the homeless directly, returned to Allen Park homeless. As a family, we tried to help him with food and housing, but he returned to the streets. He often went to the parish chapel to pray until one of the priests posted a letter he had written to Patrick for anyone to read. When my mother heard this, she was upset and asked me to take her to the chapel to read the letter. To quote directly from the letter: “Offensive smells and dirty appearance are not acceptable. You are not permitted to go to the Holy Family chapel or the bathrooms. If you do, we will call the police because you are trespassing.” From that day, neither my mother nor Patrick ever returned to that chapel until our friend Bishop Tom Gumbleton accompanied her in her casket and my homeless brother, Patrick, with his walker. Tom’s celebration of mom’s Funeral Mass helped transform that space of rejection into the sacred space of reconciliation and resurrection for our family.

After my mother’s death, I was called back to California, where I continued practicing psychology at Sequoia Counseling Center, Catherine Center for formerly incarcerated women, Francis Center for undocumented families, San Mateo County Jail, and served as a board member on National Alliance of Mentally Ill (NAMI) and St. Vincent de Paul Restorative Justice Advisory Board. During these years, I also returned to Tanzania 12 times to facilitate seminars on Franciscan Spirituality, Psychology and Leadership for our Sisters and the Franciscan Friar Postulants. Tanzania will always have a special place in my heart because I served there both as an MMM and a Franciscan. I hold heart-felt memories of both of my communities, trying to live the Gospel and incarnating the Visitation as a midwife in childbirth and as a midwife in helping to birth Tanzanian leadership. I also worked for some years with the Sisters of Mercy doing assessments and consultations until I was elected to our provincial council for four years. Within the last two years, four of my closest friends have died, bringing about a time of deep grieving for me: Felicia Gross, OSF, Dilsa Graff, OSF, Tom Ahearn, MM, and Kathleen Kearney, RSM.

I thank God for the blessing of living many years with Sheral Marshall, especially throughout the Covid pandemic, while moving from the Bay Area to Arroyo Grande, and retiring from our full- time ministries. With the grace of God, support of our Sisters, and friends, and our ever-ready sense of humor, Sheral and I are not only surviving, we are flourishing! All I know is that I have too many stories to tell, too many special relationships to reminisce about, and too little space to even skim the surface.