The Secret of the Blue Trunk by Lise Dion Read Free Book Online Page B

father carried out jobs for the community. Marie-Louise had been in contact with the nuns for much of her childhood and as a result greatly admired them. She told me she had clearly felt the call to the religious life, and I envied her for that.
    Marie-Louise was, like me, in her last novitiate year. We shared all our sewing tricks. I told her about Sister Adolphine, who had taught me so much about the art of dressmaking. That was all I could think of before going to sleep and I often designed clothes in my notebooks, which I had never shown to anyone.
    On Sundays, we exchanged what we had learned up to then, like the cross-stitch, commonly used to make a strong seam; overcasting, meant to keep a fabric from fraying; or the running stitch, for invisible hems. We also talked about haute couture. We wondered how many hours it would take us to sew, by hand, a dress sketched by a fashion designer. A nearly impossible task, we thought. We fantasized together about design and tailoring. Sunday afternoons flew by this way and were wonderfully stimulating. We would start the new week of classes with fresh energy.
    We also had retreats, called “vocation retreats,” where we questioned ourselves about our faith. I took advantage of these periods of contemplation to ask myself if I might possibly have received the call of God and the religious life without actually being aware of it. I didn’t remember receiving an unmistakable call like Sister Marie-Louise’s. And what exactly were you supposed to feel?
    To help us reflect on this question, the community had drawn up a list:
You experience God’s call if your taste for prayer and your affection for Jesus Christ are unwavering; if, from time to time, you have felt stirring within you a desire to become a nun; if you do not care about money, or possessions, or about dominating others; if you are able to live a simple life and like living communally, as a member of a group.
    I did feel more or less everything on this list, but perhaps not intensely enough. The big question tormenting me was: “Do I love God sufficiently?” I obviously loved God, except that the term “sufficiently” made me hesitate. Just how great was this love? And wasn’t my desire to become a nun the logical result of the first part of my life at the convent?
    The nuns had often told me that it was thanks to the community and to the education I received there that I had become the exemplary woman I was. They also emphasized the fact that I had never wanted for anything. Did I feel so indebted to the nuns that I would devote the rest of my life to them, though I was only twenty-two?
    Communities often expected orphans they had taken care of to become nuns. It seemed like a natural way to pay back what they had spent on us. I think that was the idea they were trying to convey to me. I realized, though, that, if I agreed to this destiny, my future would consist of servitude, obedience, and complete submission. Despite these reservations, I was happy.
    During my self-examination, I never once questioned my vow of chastity. Of course I felt certain desires once in a while that struck me as abnormal, but at those times I tried to take my mind off things. I would get up, write in my notebooks, or pray. There was no question of my admitting to these urges in confession; what happened between me and me , I said to myself, only concerned me .
    I would soon be married to God, and marriage was the most important thing for a twenty-two-year-old girl. We were going to give our life to God forever. To me, it was a great mystery, however, because this union wasn’t something tangible. And at that age, what does “forever” mean? Never mind my uncertainties, I took my perpetual solemn vows in the month of Mary, on the first Sunday in May of the year 1934.
    This marriage to the Lord was a grandiose ceremony. The convent’s chapel overflowed with white flowers. There were about forty of us taking the veil that day. We were