The God of Winter

Not having internet access at home for a few weeks, has given me little excuse not to start that book I've always threatened to write.  Here's my intro complete with working title. 


The God of Winter

Every story has a beginning that helps explain what comes after.  My story is no different.  When I was twenty one, I entered a convent and spent the next two years and ten months of my life with the Sisters of St. Mary.    For those unfamiliar with religious orders, Sisters are religious women dedicated to a life of serve in active ministry within the Church.  The Sisters I joined were teachers and nurses.  I felt called by God to teach, to become Sister Somebody.  I know that's hard for most people to understand.  Maybe, there is a secret career you've always longed for.  Imagine one day getting to do what you've only dreamt of doing, of being, only to be fired later.  Imagine how you might feel.  Not only was choosing to enter a religious order a career choice, it was a way of being.  It was the way of being that I desperately hoped would redeem me.

I didn't acknowledge it then but a lot of my desire to become a nun was born out of a deep sense of shame and feelings of worthlessness.  I wanted to become a nun because I wanted to find a way to feel better about myself.  Inside, I fought my decision.  Part of me felt like I was offering myself up on an altar of sacrifice.  This huge part of me didn't want to go.  This part of me, knew that it wasn't the right choice.   I'd long ago learned to ignore what I really wanted and to give myself to the plan of action that seemed to be for the greatest good.  Not because I was really that good.  I only pretended to be.  I did was what was expected of a good, Catholic girl who was a shy dateless wonder.  I desperately wanted an education.  I wanted a way out of the life I was living in my quiet small town.  Giving the world what it expected was the way I'd learn to cope with the horrible hollow feelings that had always haunted me.  So, I made the choice to enter a convent, convincing myself it was "God's will."  Sometimes, it's hard for me to believe that I ever believed that but I did.


Time and emotions have sculpted my memories.  Details are sometimes a bit hazy.  For years, my feelings  about this particular time in my life, made the telling of the whole story too painful.  When I left the convent with $1,000 to start a new life, I carried with me the trauma of many bad experiences.  I couldn’t talk about my life with the Sisters without shaking uncontrollably.  In time, the physical shaking subsided but the shaking of my soul continued for some time.  Occasionally, I still feel a slight tremor.

Over the years, many people have encouraged me to write about my life as a nun.  (Sister is the correct term for a female religious in an active order.  Nun refers to a female religious in a contemplative order.  Nun, however, is the popular word used to refer to both by the general population and I will often use it here.)  I avoided the task because I was uncomfortable revisiting the past.  It was too painful.  Time, the fabled healer, brought more struggles, more disappointments, the kind that threatened the very heart of who I was, who I am today.  Time and experience helped me discover that I had become much stronger than I’d ever imagined.  I’d learn to survive and to thrive despite great obstacles, despite leaving the convent, broken, heartsick and feeling worthless and rejected.

For this, I can take very little credit.  Life did this to me,for me and through me.  Life took the 2 years and 10 months I spent in the convent and used it to bring about my soul’s redemption.    There came a day when the pieces broken apart by my time in the convent came together.  One day, as I drove to work after kissing husband and children goodbye, I knew it was time to write a book about my convent experience.  I could hide the story no longer.

This is the story of my years as a member of a Roman Catholic order of religious women.  Upon entering, I spent 6 months as a postulant.  I “graduated” to novice, Sister Mary Carol, and after much struggle was allowed to make my first vows or first profession.  Walking away from the convent was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  At the time, I could not understand how things could have turned out so badly.  I was totally convinced that God wanted me to live a life in service to Him.  I couldn’t fathom what God was doing or what he wanted me to do.    I felt lost.   I spent days crying, mourning the loss.   Over time, as, the daze slowly cleared, I began to feel betrayed and angry at God, blaming Him for a lot of the things that happened.    Only recently, have I begun to appreciate my convent years as an experience with the God of Winter.    The God I thought I “knew” was a god of summer.  I’m grateful for my summer god experiences but they can’t compare in depth and life altering power as do my experiences with the God of Winter.