As her 104th birthday nears, Sister Richardis Durant has no regrets about the life she chose

Sister Richardis Durant celebrates her 104th birthday on Monday. When her fellow sisters of the Mount St. Francis convent present her a cake, it’s unlikely the diminutive nun  — whose body is stooped but whose mind is clear and sharp — will make a wish to the birthday cake fairy. She reckons that her wish was answered almost a century ago — and by a far higher power.

Mary Catherine Durant, then somewhere between 8 and 10 years old, was about to receive her First Holy Communion at a Catholic school run by the Sisters of Charity in Albuquerque, a school she attended by riding horseback.

“Sister Rose Mary told us whatever we asked for (on that special day), you get. I loved her. I asked to be a sister.”

On Oct. 4, 1923, just shy of her 18th birthday, Durant’s wish came true when her father drove her to the station to board a train bound for Lafayette, Ind., and the convent of the Sisters of St. Francis of Perpetual Adoration.

“It was the first time I saw my father cry,” said Sister Richardis, who bears the Latinized name of her father, a railroad worker. “It was his goodbye.”

So began a life marked not by the usual touchstones — marriage, children, grandchildren, worn easy chairs side by side — but one defined by faith, service and a commitment to a vow of poverty, chastity and obedience.

When Sister Richardis entered the order, embracing such a life was not all that unusual.  Seventeen other young women joined the order on that day, and a similar number joined in a second class that year. Today, there are just 60 nuns at Mount St. Francis; in the 1950s, about 500 nuns lived and worked out of the convent.

Although most young Catholic women today may find such a lifelong commitment unacceptable, Sister Richardis said she has never regretted her choice.

“I never saw it as a sacrifice,” she said. “I think God touched me.”

She was born Oct. 26, 1905, in a small town outside Altoona, Pa. Her mother had tuberculosis, and the family — then comprising four children and eventually seven — moved to Arizona and later to New Mexico for the drier air. Her father, she and her siblings lived in a house, while her mother lived in a tent nearby.

“She was careful not to caress us,” Sister Richardis said. “I think that carried over in me. It’s difficult for me to show physical affection.”

She said her family was one of the first in Albuquerque to have a car, or “Tin Lizzie.” She recalled how she and other children would run outside to watch in wonder as the first ungainly airplanes passed overhead.

She clearly remembers the day in 1914 when newspaper hawkers cried “Extra! Extra!,” selling papers announcing the death of Pope Pius X. Her family, at least then, was devoutly Catholic.

“But they all didn’t end up that way — that’s the sad part,” she said.

Sister Richardis said she hasn’t marked the passage of years in historical events. She was in the convent during the Great Depression, for example, and only vaguely recalls those difficult times.

“We worked all our lives and never saw money,” she said. “We lived in beautiful homes, but we didn’t call them ours. It was just like children — we got what we needed.”

Rather, she remembers the series of English and literature teaching assignments  that took her to schools in Indiana, Nebraska and Gallup, N.M. Sister Richardis then spent 15 years as the academic dean at the College of St. Joseph in Albuquerque, later called the University of Albuquerque (“It made us sound bigger,” the sister quipped.)

In 1965, Sister Richardis became director of religious education at St. Joan of Arc Parish in Denver, with responsibility for 1,800 children and 100 teachers and aides. It was her favorite job, one that forced her to learn to drive in her 60s. When she retired after 15 years, the pastor and parishioners sent her on a cruise to Greece, Turkey, Egypt, Israel and Rome —  a highlight of her life.

“It was something I never, ever expected,” she said.

Her retirement, though, was short-lived.  She was soon assigned to serve at the Gardens of St. Elizabeth assisted living center in Denver, where she taught sculpture, poetry and put out a weekly newspaper for 11 years. Finally, in 1992, at age 87, she retired to the scenic Mount St. Francis in the Peregrine area.

A colleague, Sister Margaret Mary Preister, said Sister Richardis “is a lady at all times.”

She said Sister Richardis knows exactly what she likes and doesn’t like — and that includes the food at the convent. She also knows how to pace herself, and that may be one key to her longevity, said Sister Margaret Mary.

But pacing herself doesn’t mean being inactive.

“You almost have to make an appointment to see her,” she said.

Sister Richardis now spends much of her day, which begins at 5:30 a.m., in prayer, including 40 minutes a day reciting a mantra she was given in the heyday of transcendental meditation more than 30 years ago: “God, come to my assistance. Lord, make haste to help me.”

She used to do puzzles daily but now makes just occasional forays to the computer room to play puzzles online and check her e-mail  — some former students keep in contact and several have journeyed to Mount St. Francis to visit. She tries not to miss an episode of the TV game show “Jeopardy!”

Sister Richardis said her faith has never wavered, though the nature of that faith has evolved. It may now, she said, lack the fervor of that young woman who on the first night in a convent gazed out the window and thought that if more women knew the feeling she had, there wouldn’t be enough convents to hold them all.

“You miss that emotion,” she said. “But God does that purposefully. There’s more merit in perseverance.”

Today will be a day of celebration, with a Mass in her honor and small gifts and entertainment afterwards provided by her fellow sisters. Two nephews also will come to celebrate. But Sister Richardis is keenly aware the circle of life is closing.

“I sometimes think of death — how it is going to come,” she said. “I think, ‘Dear God, let me take it with grace.’ Suffering is a gift. It makes us meritorious.”

Besides, she said, she’s had a wonderful life serving others and her God.

“I’m so satisfied. I’m at peace. I have no worries, no problems. God has been so good to me, and I thank him for it.”