At this point in the story, it becomes increasingly difficult to remember the order of many of the events. Initially, there were some very happy days. Despite the crazy schedule and the monotony of the mundane cleaning that occupied so much of our time, there were happy times as well. Occasionally, Sister Angela would procure a van for all of Formation to go on an outing. A trip to Baskin Robbins became a magical thing after being cut off from the world we had known. There was a lot of good clean fun and laughter.
One summer a small group of us went to see "Kiss Me Kate" at the amphitheater in the Rose Garden. It was a beautiful summer's day that faded into a wonderful warm evening. We enjoyed a picnic on the grass and a afternoon and evening free from schedules. At these times, deciding to enter a convent seemed like a great idea. We enjoyed an easy camaraderie. We seemed to share the same purpose. To that purpose we each had decided to dedicate our lives. Collectively, this made us stronger, more sure of ourselves.
In the early days, with Sister Angela at the helm, there was a different spirit in Formation. Things were not perfect. Zelda's dramatics and special privileges were difficult to ignore. Some of the rules still seemed archaic if not down right stupid. Yet, at this point in time, no one doubted the others sincerity. There was an atmosphere of respect. We'd formed an island in the larger convent. It was a happy one. Maybe that's why a decision was made to change the Formation Director. We would lose Sister Angela. Sister Christine would be taking her place. None of us in Formation welcomed this change. We each felt dread. We anxiously awaited Sister Christine's installment with smiles painted over clenched teeth. She seemed a very unlikely candidate for this position. Timid, easily flustered, those of us who had crossed paths with her in the past, did not have fond memories.
Sister Angela had been the Formation Director for some time and did not want to leave her post. Obedient, faithful nun that she was, she did not protest and did as she was told. It wasn't easy to say good bye. Once she left her position, we would not be allowed to talk with her about anything at length unless we had permission. Permission to talk to one of the professed Sisters was not given easily and was often denied. The convent believed that talking to too many of the other Sisters would be too confusing for the young Sisters in Training.
She was a beloved boss, a kind boss and yes, a benign Svegali with an amazing charisma that captured the imagination of a handful of idealistic young women. She had become the idealized mother to all of us. I believe that each of us was looking for a loving mother. Our mothers in the real world were not ours alone. We had to share them with siblings, jobs, the struggle to provide for their children and the worries that created a chasm between us and what we sought.
Each of us wanted a mother like the Blessed Mother. We weren't yet ready to grow up. We were a small handful of Peter Pan-like girls. Life had robbed us of something precious. To compensate for our loss we filled our lives with ideals, promises and Utopian dreams. The real world had some how left us feel inferior, inadequate and unlovable. The convent was a way to make up for that lack. Having a benevolent, older, maternal presence was something that we each longed for and found in Sister Angela. For a brief period of time, we all seemed to enjoy each others company and the atmosphere of hope. Any personal doubts or suspicions were easily denied. That was all to end with the coming of Sister Christine.
Sister Christine was not the devil personified. She was a very anxious and conflicted women who probably needed a mother more than we did. Leadership did not come naturally. When she took over the small class for Postulants, populated by only Zelda and I, it wasn't long before I'd find arguments or questions about the material that would throw her into a cesspool of frustration. Floundering in the quagmire, her weakness frightened me. I was often the cat to her mouse. No, it wasn't the kind thing to do. It may not have been the right thing. Certainly, I was acting out because this new director was not the leader/mother that Sister Angela was. Sister Christine's uncertainty spread like blood in the water. There were moments when we were sharks, pretty young sharks with a habit and a cherubic smile.
We'd learned very quickly that "a good nun is a happy nun." I could swear that I heard those exact words on many an occasion. Negative emotions or expression were highly suspect. The unwritten rule against them was strongly enforced. We kept us practicing our smiles. We put on smiles as camouflage and entered the new and uncharted waters of Sister Christine's Formation. Clinging to that smile, I wanted my aching cheeks to convince me that all was right in my small convent world. I couldn't have been more wrong. I would soon find out how wrong things could be.
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