Singing Nun

Onstage

The process by which the inanimate becomes animate seems to the audience to be a real miracle. - Anonymous

A glove puppet in hand, I patiently waited for the signal for my persona. 

At the church service that Sunday morning, I was to be Sister Marie Clarence who along with her singing nuns would perform I Will Follow Him, a remix on the Sister Act movie soundtrack. It was my premier performance as a puppeteer.

Franklin Park Conservatory, Fall 2020

Crouching with three other handlers behind a narrow five-foot high booth, I could still remember the day someone said five words that changed my life forever.

Come join the puppet ministry.

Puppet ministry? I asked.  How? Why? When?

They explained the puppets would simply lip-synch to familiar songs.

What? A chance to cutify without being seen, so no makeup? Choose our character and dress it up? No lines to memorize? 

I was in.

Earlier, I had fitted my hand into my puppet's hollow cloth body, carefully fitting my thumb into the mouth's lower opening and the other four fingers into the upper lip. 

Hold on, Sister. We got this, I whispered reassuringly.

She could only be seen from the waist up, but I wanted Sister Marie Clarence to look her best. So with the other free hand, I straightened out my puppet's habit, ensuring that its coif is safely secured by the wimple, ironing out the few wrinkles of her veil and sleeves.

I was all smiles as the opening tune began. 

Center stage was the open space just above our head height. It was on there that we would hold our hands up and allow the puppets to perform.

Ready, Sister? I whispered. I won't let you down. You know you have my heart.

To the spectators' delight, we wiggled our puppets upstage.

There was no long explanation, no descriptive scenes and painful dragging in of the plot. We simply swayed, singing in harmony.

We will follow Him,

Follow Him wherever He may go.

Our puppets had come to life with movement. Singing high, singing low, singing loud, singing softly. 

There isn't an ocean too deep,

A mountain so high it can keep,

Keep us away, away from His love...

My fingers were moving up and down, matching the climactic tones of the song. My arm was agile and quick in rhythmic consonance with the song's cadence.

I love Him, I love Him, I love Him,

And where He goes,

I'll follow, I'll follow, I'll follow.

I was unseen, but I liked it that way.

It was magical. A primitive sense of illusion. I had made an inanimate character come to life.

Singing.

Dancing away.

A whimsical validation attached to my hand.