As I knelt below Sister F.'s solid frame, I was not alone. Another postulant knelt beside me. Our Formation Director aglow with an eager happiness assured us that Z. and I would be the best of friends. Soon after, in a formation studies class, we were warned of the dangers of "particular friendships." PF's (my code for particular friendships) hinted at sexual relationships. The Sisters had been warned of the dangers of PF's for years. Some had a religious devotion to avoiding friendships of any kind lest it should lead to a PF. Others seemed to disregard the admonition entirely, and develop odd, mutually dependent relationships. The signs often pointed to something more.
Our Formation Director, Sister A. was a tiny bird-like woman. She fluttered about the young nuns like a hummingbird flutters around sweet nectar. Dainty, lady-like, charmingly innocent, we all wanted to be like her. We, two postulants had the company of several novices and a junior-professed or two. Sister A. was the sun around which we all revolved. We all wanted the approval of our benign Svengali.
Sister A. had been given an extra dose of pixie dust from behind heaven's gate before coming into this world. Years later, there is still no doubt in my mind that she was 100% genuine. She was human and imperfect but a wonderful nun, nonetheless. In the days ahead, I discovered religious women are not all well suited for the religious life. This didn't cloud the fact that there are people who are well suited. Men and women can live honest and sincere lives dedicated to something greater than themselves. These people were the reason I stayed as long as I did. It was possible to live a genuine religious life. These examples were flawed humans who never lost sight of that fact which is exactly why God made himself known through them. They never forgot they were human and in need of saving. When you're convinced you're saved and God is broadcasting His will through you to the people below, you're going to strike fear and suspicion in this woman's heart. (Which explains why my dislike of Sister F. aka "The Grand Poobah" was so immediate and sadly, persists to this day.)
My road was destined to be different from the start. This was not the place for me. Ignoring my deepest and smartest self, I was convinced I was going to make it work. It took almost three years for me to accept the truth. Occasionally someone will ask, "Would you have made a good nun?"
In time, with the right teachers and guides, the answer is a strong, "Yes! I would have rocked as a nun."
But it was not meant to be. It was the wrong time, the wrong convent, the wrong people, the wrong me. Things happened as they should. The trauma, the injustice, the heart break all served a greater purpose in the end. I was forced back into the world and into the life I was meant to lead.
As I knelt beside my fellow postulant and classmate, Z., I wanted us to be friends. I needed a friend in this huge and frightening place. As life became more challenging, I would desperately try to win her over so that I could have some sort of lifeline to sanity and hope. Z. and I could not have been more different. Z. was not a lifeline to anything. She became my albatross, a curse instead of a friend. She held up a standard and made it clear that I fell short, at least in the convent world. In the real world, Z. would have been a fun house mirror, a terrible distortion of reality. She was capable of great cruelty and deceit. I grew to hate her. The feeling was mutual. No danger of a particular friendship here.
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