Two nuns were wandering through a 7-11 on one scorching evening of the summer, leisurely pacing about the aisles. As they went by the beer cooler, one of them stopped and scrutinized the other with mischievousness in her gaze. “How delicious a cold brew or two would be on a hot summer night?”, she asked. The second nun laughed, tempted, but she hesitated. Indeed it would sister, but I would not feel right buying beer. I’m sure that it would make a scene at the cash register.
With a cheeky smile, the first nun brushed aside her concern. “That’s easy,” she said with a proud nod and took a six-pack from the cooler with minimum trouble. Together, they went to the register while the beers in their hands attracted more than a few curious looks. The cashier blinked in surprise, apparently not planning to see two women in habits with alcohol.
Before he could even open his mouth the nun who held the six-pack in her hands leaned towards him and said, “We use beer to wash our hair”. In our nunnery, we refer to it as Catholic shampoo. The cashier stopped for only a second before she dug under the counter with a grin, got a pack of pretzel sticks out, and placed it along with the beer in their bag. He grinned at her and said, “The curlers are on the house”.
Their humor from their chance encounter still sat in the air, as much of it does – combining faith, wit, and the kind of mischievous fun that reminds us joy is taken in different packages.
Not too far away from that 7-11, in a much colder environment, another story played out – one about a priest and a nun who had gotten lost in a blizzard. Following an arduous journey through knee-deep snow and biting winds, they came across a little, deserted cabin. Exhausted and half frozen, they came inside to find a small stack of blankets, a sleeping bag, and only one bed.
As the gentleman that he was, the priest turned to the nun and pronounced, “Sister you sleep on the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor in the sleeping bag”. She nodded gratefully and curled up as he sat down on the cold floor. Soon though, her voice broke the silence: “Father, I’m cold.” Not hiding a tremor of impatience, the priest got up, picked up a blanket and draped it softly over the girl and wormed his way back into the sleeping bag.
Just as he was getting back to sleep again, her voice came again. “Father, I am still very cold”. Obediently, he came out, put on another blanket and went back to his spot on the floor. A few moments later, when his eyes were now finally closing, she whispered again, “Father, I’m s-o-o cold”.
At that exact moment, the priest sat up, looked at her, and with one raised eyebrow said “Sister, I got an idea.” We are out in the wilderness, and nobody will ever know what happened. Let’s pretend we’re married.”
The nun paused for a moment before sweetly saying, “That’s fine with me”.
To that the priest, without even batting an eyelash, yelled, “Okay then get up and get your own damn blanket!”
In some occasions, a little bit of humor, preferably the kind that originates from everyday occurrences or over the top peculiarities of life, can brighten up the whole day. If it is nuns making a beer run become a comedy bit or a priest and nun weathering a storm through a marriage joke, these stories bring us back to the pleasure we find when we laugh, when we surprise each other, when we live human moments together. Hope it put a smile on your face. Have a wonderful day!
