And Then There Were Nuns by Jane Christmas Read Free Book Online Page B

work enjoyable was our supervisor, Sister Sue.
    Like Sister Jessica, Sister Sue was a character. In her pre-nun life, she had been a professor of ancient history in the United States—and an atheist. It was while dealing with an addiction via a twelve-step program that she forged a bond with God, likening the experience to being wrapped in a big electric blanket of comfort and warmth. She gradually began yearning to be part of a community that was rooted in a common faith, and ended up baptized, much to her surprise. After becoming Christian, she realized that she wanted “more God” in her life, and that got her thinking about the religious life. She visited the Canadian convent hoping she wouldn’t like it, “but as soon as I got here, I felt at home.” She entered religious life at age fifty.
    A side-parted chin-length blunt cut, which she hooked behind an ear, gave her a girlish look, but it was her inscrutable expression with its Mona Lisa smile that hinted at a feisty side.
    It came as no surprise when we discovered that Sister Sue had a “colorful” past, as they like to say in hagiographic accounts. A few of the nuns had alluded obliquely to their past relationships, but Sister Sue was entirely upfront about hers—she had lived with a few men.
    We adored her candidness, and during our tea break, the other members of our Crossroads group would come in from dusting the library shelves or cleaning the guest house—Lorraine and I had obviously drawn the short straw when it came to manual labor—and migrate to our table to hear Sister Sue dish the goods about a nun’s life.
    Was convent life really just high school in a habit?
    â€œIf you mean, ‘Do the others get bitchy and are there bruised egos from time to time?’ the answer is yes,” said Sister Sue. “What do you expect from people who live and work together day in and day out?”
    Do you feel oppressed?
    â€œHa! Are you kidding? There is a great sense of freedom here. I don’t feel I’m missing anything from the outside world. I’ve been liberated from consumerism and all that other crap.”
    No one had the nerve to ask, “Do you miss sex?” Well, not yet.
    She did not sugarcoat convent life, nor did she castigate it. She seemed proud, defiant even, that she had taken the brave and unconventional path, though she was quick to admit that the call to religious life had taken her by surprise, as it had Sister Jessica. “This is the last place I thought I’d end up.”
    ( 2:vi )
    IN NO time, I was as embedded with the nuns as I could hope to be. I loved every minute of it.
    The place bubbled with optimism and activity, and it had a collegial, noncompetitive vibe.
    Being a bit of an architecture freak, I was initially disappointed that the convent wasn’t a dark Gothic cliché. It had been built in the past five years and was airy, with an abundance of windows. Glass lined the corridors and the entire wall in the refectory, which faced out to a beautiful courtyard of swaying wildflowers and young trees; the nuns’ cloister featured a glass-enclosed porch on all four sides; and the chapel had a glass clerestory that allowed you to watch the clouds pass as you listened to a sermon or a Bible reading.
    The light and airiness had a great impact on my well-being. I felt as if every care in the world had fallen away from me. I began to regard myself more as one who could be useful to others than as one with something to prove. My ambition was subsiding nicely, thanks to regular ministrations of kindness, and I glowed with the radiance and earnestness of a new recruit. At times I had to pinch myself to believe that I was really there.
    The more I saw of Sister Elizabeth Ann scurrying around the place, listening to everyone’s two cents—always with a genuine smile, not a patronizing one—the more I appreciated what a mammoth job it must be to lead thirty