How a 50-year-old letter from a U.S. District Judge became a nun’s final lesson in gratitude.
In 1990, when I was a rather newly-appointed Superior Court Judge, I was in the chambers of a wise and senior judicial colleague just talking. Out of the blue, the Senior Judge said, “I’d like you to answer a question with the first person’s name that comes to your mind. Which teacher of yours made the greatest influence on your life?”
Without much thought, I said, “My first-grade nun teacher by the name of Sister Mary Annella.”
The judge followed up by asking me why I chose Sister Annella.
Quite simply, I replied, “Because I credit her for teaching me how to read.”
Finally, the judge asked, “And how did she respond when you thanked her?”
Silence.
I hadn’t.
I left his chambers and began my search. I located the holy sister in the infirmary of a convent in Missouri. Once I was given her address, I wrote a letter on my judicial stationery. In its entirety, I wrote:
Dear Sister Annella,
You were my first grade teacher at the School of the Assumption in San Leandro, California, starting in the Fall of 1957. I certainly don’t expect you to remember me, but be assured that I absolutely and unequivocally remember you and the positive effect you had on me. It’s because of you that I am able to write this letter on the letterhead of a Superior Court Judge. You see, Sister, you taught me how to read and I simply want to express my deep gratitude to you. I hope that this letter finds you in good spirits and feeling blessed by God.
Sincerely,
Larry O’Neill (now a bit older!)
About three weeks later, I received a rather shakily handwritten note from the good Sister that said:
Dear Larry,
I received your lovely letter and was pleased to receive it. I have to admit that you were right that I don’t remember you, but I do remember a lot of children just like you—excited to learn how to read! You obviously took reading to heart as evidenced by your current professional achievement. God bless you always.
In the name of Jesus,
Sister Mary Annella, O.P.
Two months later, I was working in chambers when my court clerk called and said there was a Catholic nun on line one wanting to speak to me. She had identified herself as “The Mother Superior” of a particular Dominican Convent.
Totally intimidated, I quickly answered the phone. The nun made sure that I was the person who had written the letter to Sister Annella “a few months ago.” She then told me that she wanted to inform me that Sister Annella had begun her walk in the garden with Jesus the day before. I thanked her profusely for letting me know, and then inquired how she had come across my name to be able to make the call.
The Mother Superior explained that Sister Annella had kept my letter on her nightstand from the day she received it until the moment she left for heaven. She further explained that each new novice nun was required to rotate through the convent infirmary, where the elderly nuns lived. The philosophy of the religious order was for the new sisters to learn from the wisdom of the nuns at the other end of their religious lives.
The Mother Superior went on the tell me that Sister Annella shared my letter with each and every new sister, not for the purpose of bragging, but rather to tell the new sisters that even though they may never hear from former students, it didn’t at all mean that the students weren’t incredibly benefitted and immensely grateful— “…after all, it took this Superior Court Judge more than half a century to let me know of his gratitude!”
Her lesson in gratitude to the new sisters was as valuable as the lesson that she had taught me.
- The Letter I Almost Never Wrote: A Lesson in Patient Gratitude - July 10, 2026
