Jan 4, 2015 |
By Dee Bernhardt.
My beloved speaks and says to me: “Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away”…
Song of Songs 2:10
As a single lay woman working full-time in church ministry, I have often had my vocation questioned… “So, when are you going to commit?” or “You just haven’t found the right man to marry yet.” or “When are you going to get a real life?” Often, parish members assume that I have suffered some terrible trauma that caused me to remain single. Yet, I am single because my greatest joy is in serving many others, and I love best when I love broadly. And over the past thirty-plus years, I have experienced that my deep passion for loving and serving others meets a very deep need, especially in the young adults I encounter on college campuses through campus ministry and the ministry of spiritual direction.
In a sense, I belong to a sisterhood because I actually have seven sisters (and three brothers) in my family of origin. When thirteen of my friends all decided to join religious orders upon graduation from college, I wanted to fit in and do it too. I tried. I realized that I already had a community of sisters by birth, and that was enough sisterhood for me. By God’s grace, I became one of the first lay ministers in the United States as a campus minister, and I have been in that role ever since, growing in ministry over time.
John Cardinal Henry Newman once wrote a short poem encapsulating the call to holiness for the laity:
I sought to hear the voice of God;
I climbed the highest steeple;
But God declared: “Go down again.
I dwell among the people.”
In our lives, we all seek the high steeple at times. Sometimes, we even make life commitments which encompass that idea of a “higher calling.” But when we consider the incarnation of Christ and the reality of our world, we realize that there are different callings, none of which is higher than any other. In fact, if you’ve ever read “Hope for the Flowers,” you know that the top is often the most disappointing position of all!
In our church, vocations to religious life and priesthood are often seen as the top. Bearing in mind that the humble parentage and birth of our Lord clearly exemplify simplicity and humility, we come to recognize that our inner dispositions determine how we hear the voice of God, which then influences our attitudes toward external life choices. Every lifestyle and vocation requires sacrifice; every one inspires joy. Each lay person (single or married), religious woman/man and/or priest believes strongly and doubts often; lives deeply and survives shallowly; loves fully and fails miserably. This is our human condition – which binds us all in the mystical body of Christ.
Dee Bernhardt is the Assistant Director of Campus Ministry at St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Center, West Lafayette, Indiana.
Dee holds a Master of Science in Religious Education degree from Marywood College and a Master of Arts in Christian Spirituality degree from Creighton University. She holds professional certifications in Campus Ministry from the USCCB/CCMA and in Spiritual Direction/Directed Retreats from Creighton University.
She has served as national and regional advisor for a total of over 18 years on NCSC leadership teams, and believes in the empowerment of communities to bring the Church to life in higher education.
Oct 21, 2014 |
In April of 2014, I found myself sitting in a meeting room on a university campus at a departmental “meet and greet,” where a bunch of professors gather to listen to wildly successful alumni of their department talk about their exciting career exploits. That Friday morning, the visiting alumna was some hotshot Director of International Marketing for some top five international magazine publisher that, every two or three years, moved her and her entire family to a new country, Singapore, Malaysia, India, Thailand…, to launch a new magazine in a language and culture she didn’t understand. Then, when she had made the magazine wildly successful, they moved her on to the next country to do it all over again. After about an hour of listening to her adventures, one of the professors asked, “Weren’t you ever… anxious or… afraid even… to just pick up your family and move them to a country you knew nothing about?”
The Marketing Director appeared genuinely confused, as if she couldn’t even understand the question. “Afraid? Why… Why would I be afraid? You just go and figure it out. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
In that moment, I felt a hard knock in my chest as I remembered who I used to be. The marketing hotshot continued talking, but I didn’t hear her. Instead, I heard my inner voice say in a slow, matter-of-fact tone, “I used to be like that. I used to be fearless. Now I’m afraid of everything.”
Most people are afraid of failing. They’re afraid of putting a ton of work and time and effort, and love, into a thing and then having it all “go to waste”. They’re afraid others will look down on them because they set their sights high, but didn’t make it. They’re afraid of starting all over again from scratch, because it might mean they’ll just fail again.
I wasn’t afraid of any of those things, and in my time working with Leonie’s Ladies, I’ve found that a lot of you think those are the things you’re afraid of, but you’re actually afraid of something else entirely. So, over the next few days, I’m going to tell you what I was afraid of, and where that fear came from. See if you can relate!
When I was a child, my mother used to say to me like it was a mantra, “Jenni, you have so much faith”. She didn’t mean that I was the spitting image of the Virgin Mary. She meant that I was fearless.
I suppose I actually was objectively fearless back then. Like a lot of us, my mother always told me that I could be anything I wanted to be and that I would always be successful at it. With those prospects, what was there to be afraid of?! In both school and college, I always made straight ‘A’s. So long as my world was confined to studying, I rocked it.
So I branched out a little. I traveled all of Western and much of Eastern Europe, by myself. At 23, I immigrated to Israel, also by myself, with every intention of making my life there. Israelis used to regularly ask me, “What, you mean you don’t have any family here? You don’t know anybody?” And just as regularly they would express awe when I answered in the negative. For five years, I supported myself as a freelance editor in Jaffa. I had a great professional reputation, and I was making exceptionally good money.
My world was bigger, and I still had never failed. What was there to fear?
Plenty…
Part Two of this post can be found here.
J. E. Sigler is the Vice President (+ Blog Mistress Emerita) of Leonie’s Longing and a doctoral student in the Brian Lamb School of Communication at Purdue University. She has never been in religious life, but she spends a whole lot of time with nuns. For a summary of her Master’s thesis research with 35 sisters, view her TEDx talk
here.
Sep 14, 2014 |
Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.
By Seraphina.
I had a long road leading into the monastery. I believed that God had clearly called me to be His bride and so for several years I prayed and begged that it would be possible for me to enter religious life. The obstacle, however, seemed insurmountable: I had nearly six figures of student loan debt, and I would have to bring that down to zero before I could enter. During those difficult years of working two jobs, praying, and fundraising, I recited to myself the words of 1 Thess 5:24: “He who calls you is faithful, and He will do it.” I tried, amidst mounting discouragement, to abandon myself completely to His providence.
Even while working, my income still barely covered my minimum monthly payments. If God really wanted me in the monastery then I needed a miracle. In October I decided to pray the 54 day Rosary novena with the specific intention that I would be able to enter the monastery in June. It seemed like a long shot, but I took heart in simple confidence of the novena prayer, which confidently gives thanks for the grace asked for before it has been received:
From thy bounty thou hast given me the favor
I so earnestly and trustingly sought. I despaired not of what
I asked of thee, and thou hast truly shown thyself my Mother.
This was the hope that I clung to and I made sure to remind Our Lady of it repeatedly. Still, as the months wore on my entrance date seemed increasingly unrealistic. Through the incredible generosity of friends and family I was able to fundraise about 16% of the total that I needed, but at this rate, it would be ten years before I could enter! Still, I tried to hope, truly believing that God would provide for those called according to His purpose.
In May of that year I had one final fundraising event planned: a concert at my parish. It was a simple affair and I looked at it more as an opportunity to offer my violin talent to the parish than as a fundraiser. I entrusted the concert to the Blessed Mother. The concert went well, and afterwards I went to the parish hall for the reception. I was thinking of leaving when suddenly an elderly gentleman approached me and began speaking with me. At length, he put his face near mine and said, “Whisper in my ear the amount of debt that you have.” I told him. He said, “I may be able to help. Write to me. You’ll find my address on the $100 check that I put in the collection basket.”
I wrote to this man and then I prayed another 9 day Rosary novena to back it up. I wasn’t sure if I could believe that this man whom I had just met would be willing to make such an extraordinary gift. I prayed and waited, hoping that this was the miracle that I had been praying for!
It was May, the month of Our Lady, and still Easter; while I was walking home one day I was concluding the ninth Rosary of the novena and the bells were ringing at the church for the Regina Caeli. Just then, my phone rang. It was this gentleman, and he was calling to tell me that he had just spoken with his stockbroker in order to transfer the funds necessary to completely pay off my debt.
“He who calls you is faithful, and He will do it.”
I was then able to enter the monastery within two months. The Lord had truly provided for me, just as He had promised, and I rejoiced! I was absolutely overjoyed to be able to enter the monastery after so many tenuous years of waiting. At last! Although nervous, of course, I was so excited to completely commit my life to the Lord and be His forever.
Within minutes of entering the enclosed monastery, however, I began to be plagued by doubts. The Lord, Who had always seemed so near to me, now seemed elusive. I struggled in the small community and I was afflicted by a loneliness that still grieves me to recall. I prayed, I offered sacrifices, and I begged for the strength to live this life, but I felt completely abandoned and alone. I was confused. Surely this must be my fault! Surely God had not worked such a dramatic miracle in my life if I was not actually called to this community! What was I doing wrong? Was I being punished for all of my sins? And what would happen if I left? Wouldn’t it seem like a devious scheme that I had worked just to get my loans paid off and then return to the world? These questions circled in my mind constantly and, not wanting to be unfaithful, I remained in the monastery. I would suffer, I decided, if that was what He wanted. I tried to reflect on the Passion. But who was this God here in the monastery? He did not seem like the same God whom I had loved so ardently before… I had never before felt so abandoned by God, so punished, so… rejected.
The community that I joined lived a very radical vow of poverty. Our personal items were very limited and I was taught not to ask for anything that was not absolutely essential. I had very long hair, because I was saving it for the dramatic ceremony of the investiture where my hair would be cut and replaced by a veil. Until then I had to keep it constrained behind a short postulant veil. I thought that I had brought enough hair ties with me, but midway through the year all but one of them had broken and the one that remained was definitely nearing its end. I know that this sounds trivial but I had some real struggles because of that one hair tie. My hair kept coming loose in awkward moments, it wasn’t secure enough for all of the manual labor that we had to do, and on top of it all, I was afraid to ask my superior for another one. I didn’t have that much longer until my investiture and I really did not want the portress to have to beg one of our benefactors for something as seemingly vain as a hair tie. I did not ask, and every day I rather desperately hoped that my one hair tie would survive.
My interior struggles with the community continued to worsen and I did not have anyone with whom to consult. I was the only one in the novitiate, the community was enclosed, and Mother was already bending the rules in order to allow me to talk privately with a priest about my difficulties. I did not know what I was going to do and it was all I could do to persevere in the daily tasks while trying to appear calm.
One day we received an unexpected package from a lovely woman whom I had met in passing just before I entered. It was a very large box containing all sorts of delights: nuts, washcloths, envelopes, and other essentials. I was really not expecting to hear from this woman and I was deeply moved that she had remembered me and had been so thoughtful. She even mentioned in her card that she had prayed while she was shopping so that she would know exactly what to buy for us.
We had a very fun recreation that evening where Mother allowed me to unpack the box and show everyone what my friend had sent us. Beneath the brownie mix, the seeds, and the gloves, I found… a package of hair ties. They were the exact type that I had always bought, and there were SO MANY of them! My friend knew that the Sisters kept their hair very short, and still she had been moved to buy hair ties for us. You might consider this a coincidence, but in that moment, when I had struggled so much and felt so incredibly far from the providence of God, I knew, I knew that the Lord was truly aware of even our smallest, most trivial needs and I knew that He still loved and cared for me just as much as He always had.
I eventually left the monastery after a great deal of struggles. I learned so much while I was there and I am very grateful to the Sisters for their goodness and patience with me. I was incredibly fearful of returning to the world, at first, and it was so disheartening to think that I may not be called to be the bride of Christ after all. It was all that I could do to entrust this transition to God and try to believe that He does indeed “lead the blind in ways unknown to them” (Is 42:16). I tried to trust again in His providence, more blindly now than ever, and believe that His ways must indeed be mysterious if He would pay off my huge debt in a miraculous way only to ask me to return to the world a year later. But Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and He guides the future as He has the past. His providence had never failed me, so I just had to abandon myself into a new, albeit unexpected, adventure. If He would provide me with something as small as a hair tie, how much more could He be trusted with all of the needs that I would encounter upon leaving the community?
It has been almost a year now since I have left the monastery and I think that my whole experience can only be summed up in one word: gratitude. I am so grateful because the Lord has provided for all of my needs every step of the way. I still don’t know really what He wants me to do five years from now, but I can try to live my life here today with great love. This is the will of God for my life – to give thanks without ceasing, and so even now I think of those hair ties with just as much gratitude as I have when I think of the insurmountable debt that the Lord Himself paid off in a heartbeat.
Deo Gratias!
Seraphina spent over a year discerning with a small enclosed community. She is currently working, spending time with her family, and praising God for His inexhaustible providence.
Aug 14, 2014 |
I knew when I left that, even in a community dedicated to proclaiming the dignity of life, I could tell anyone else they were a beautiful, unrepeatable gift of God, but I could not believe it for myself. I knew that God was going to help me know that I was beautiful and loved.
But it wasn’t in the form of a bouquet of roses, or a romantic poem, it was in suffering. I was met with shame, guilt, sadness, depression, and a whole host of other emotions and consequences I’m sure you all can relate to, after leaving. After a few months I found a part-time job near my friends, and found great treatment for my eating disorder. I thought I’d be done dealing with it in six months, have a full-time job or be getting my Masters’ in something. But a year later I was still working part-time, minimum wage, on Medicaid, and getting help from my parents so I could afford Therapy.
Now that I am finally just starting a real job, I can respond with a more authentic gratitude and joy at the gifts of God, which I realize now were so present amidst the sufferings and apparent loneliness. The Lord gave me time to heal and grow and the opportunity to see how He could take care of me. I realized I didn’t have to do it on my own or fix my broken life. I wasn’t alone, and every time I was turned down from a job or program or place to live I found Him presenting me with something even better. (This was usually after the temper tantrum I would have after seeing my failure, when I was throwing in the towel at life. Then I would sheepishly say thank you, and He would respond with graciousness and love.)
After I left I was still asking God to change me into something better and more pleasing to Him. But then I realized, in prayer and in my relationships- that I already was! Even in the midst of depression and despair, when I clung to my disorder rather than God, when I was convinced I would never be enough for Him, He still looked upon me tenderly. My leaving Religious Life had not been a failure but only His pursuing me so that I could discover how much He loves ME, all of me, independent of my state of life, my apparent success, or the number of minutes I pray: Where I saw failure, He saw a window into the core of my heart. I was finally weak enough to let Him enter and fill the dark spaces.
It continues to amaze me how much He really does love us, and how He makes our identity clear to us if we ask. Who are we? His Beloved Sons and Daughters- not collectively but individually- and each of you is His Beloved in a way that is particular and unlike any other person. We are precious. We are loved. You are precious. You are loved.
“Who am I in the Eyes of You Lord?” This is a question I keep asking the Lord. “What am I to You?” I sometimes get the courage to ask Him these questions and He always surprises me. I doubt my dignity and He overwhelms me with His Gaze and assurance of my preciousness to Him.
What do I want you to learn from my story?
- That leaving the Convent, Monastery, or Seminary is NOT a failure, it is part of your personal journey with the Lord, and He plans to care for you. You STILL have a vocation, you can’t fail it if you are in the Lord, and He will keep leading you towards whatever He has so beautifully designed for your heart.
- Reach out to the support that you have, whether it’s family, friends, counsellors, etc. Get involved in a parish if you can and build up your network of support. I certainly couldn’t have made it this far without my family and friends, other priests and religious, and other forms of support! Above all, run to the Sacraments even if it hurts because it’s not the same. The Lord will reveal an even greater depth of love! Because He is always faithful.
- Take your time! He sees the big picture- so don’t be overwhelmed by how fast or slow things move. Listen to the Holy Spirit when He is telling you that you’re not ready, even when you think you should be; or when you are afraid but God is saying it’s the right time.
- Pray with passages that help you to see what He sees. My personal favorites are the Baptism, the Annunciation, and many of the Healing Passages. Ask Him to reveal His Wounds to you as he did to Thomas, and dare to touch them. Ask Him what’s on your heart and don’t be afraid because He is more intimately with you now than ever before.
- He smiles upon you even when your hair is awkwardly short, you have no clothes, you genuflect in random places where there’s no tabernacle, you answer the phone with your old religious name, and yes, even when you have your old “nun” ID and people look at you funny. None of that changes your real ID, your preciousness to the Heart of Christ. So if it helps, make a new one out of scrap paper, holy cards, and that one Scripture verse that always reminds you that He is near. Pull it out when you feel a mess, alone, unworthy, or on the verge of a spiritual (or physical) temper tantrum.
Misericordia works for her home diocese, is a caffeine addict, and loves swimming.
Aug 10, 2014 |
The ID Card Saga and other Former Nun-People Problems
By Misericordia.
I am reminded of God’s sense of humor every time I pull out my license. Why? Because I got my license renewed two months before I left the convent, and haven’t gotten around to changing it – so as you can imagine every time I board a plane or go to a bar for a Theology on Tap I have to pull out my ID, with a picture of me very clearly in habit. I can only imagine the thoughts of the Airport Security and Bouncer. I’m sure they’re thinking I’m some crazy nun in cognito who jumped the convent walls for the weekend. Keep going sister, hop on that plane to Orlando! I won’t tell anyone! I once walked into a liquor store to buy champagne for a cupcake recipe, and a second later walked right back out because I couldn’t bear to show my license. I could only imagine! Here sister, I’ll put it in a brown paper bag so no one will know! Ginger ale would have to do! Now I can laugh about it.
These experiences also remind me that although I’ve left Religious Life, despite the shame and confusion that often comes with it, the Lord is not disappointed that I am no longer a Sister. I am the same in His Eyes even when I’m wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt and am called by my given name.
I think many of us go through this crisis when we leave Religious Life and Seminary. We live a particular life with a particular order, and our identity can become wrapped up and intertwined (like DNA chromosomal strands) with the identity of the community. Then when we leave we feel like nothing. I remember thinking, “Who am I if I’m not a sister?” But I think we’ve had it all wrong from the beginning. At least for me, I was never confident in my identity. In this “create-yourself” culture, I thought- from as far back as I can remember- that I had to find it. Everyone seemed to have some defining characteristic, relationship, talent, etc. that seemed to define them. And I didn’t feel perfect at much of anything.
Being an identical twin also makes things complicated, especially when people ask, “Who’s the smart once and who’s the athletic one?” and other questions of that sort. She seemed to be better at most things, and some people thought I was her because they didn’t know I existed. The more I tried to be good at something, or find what could justify my being, the more restless, empty, and alone I felt.
In college, it was a whole new world, where I found wonderful Catholic friends who loved me for me! It was hard to be convinced, but the healing began! I could trust people a little, and for once I saw people look into my eyes and see God’s Presence in my soul. I couldn’t describe it as such then but I knew that they recognized my worth more than I did. The Lord led me to Himself slowly and beautifully and I discerned Religious Life, entering after I graduated college.
I was excited for everything about becoming a Sister. I thought I could leave everything behind including the old me, and start fresh. But history was repeating itself. I had done this before. In sixth grade I moved to a new school, and decided to change myself. I didn’t like who I was and how I looked, so I grew out my bangs, got contacts instead of glasses, bought a few new outfits (since my old wardrobe was almost entirely Land’s End – my mom’s favorite). This is when I started developing an eating disorder. It was just in my thoughts at first- I wanted to be different since I felt so invisible. It got worse in high school and my family was worried. My soul was crying out for help but was afraid to receive it, so I managed it, and was “okay” all through high school and college. It was an exhausting, never-ending search for self-acceptance and perfection. Even after all those years at “failing” to be perfect I thought I had finally found the one path that would make me perfect.
Just as I thought I could leave the old “me” behind in 6th grade, I thought I could now leave the 22 year old “me” behind when I entered Religious Life, including the eating disorder. I got rid of my clothes, my job, my car, everything! But it stowed away in the few possessions I brought to the Convent.
I managed pretty well the first year of Postulancy as I had for so many years. When I entered Novitiate I was so excited because I was genuinely excited, but also because I thought I was a new person. The habit covered a lot of my body but it didn’t hide my past. My new name didn’t take away the hatred I had towards my old self, since – shockingly – it was the same self! Shortly after entering Novitiate, my eating disorder got progressively worse and my Novice Director noticed the darkness I’d held inside me for over 10 years. I was terrified, but consoled to finally be able to let this disorder not control me and my life. I went through Counseling for a while but it became clear that I needed more intensive treatment. And so after two and a half wonderful, beautiful, and blessed years, I departed with two outfits and my nun shoes, feeling sorrow but great peace and clarity that it was God’s Will.
I knew when I left that, even in a community dedicated to proclaiming the dignity of life, I could tell anyone else they were a beautiful, unrepeatable gift of God, but I could not believe it for myself. I knew that God was going to help me know that I was beautiful and loved.
Misericordia works for her home diocese, is a caffeine addict, and loves swimming.
Aug 3, 2014 |
I don’t know how many of you watched the show Joan of Arcadia, but my family loves it. The show was only on TV for two seasons, starting in the Fall of 2003. The basic idea is that God appears (in human form) to Joan, a “normal teenager” who is understandably hesitant to believe that it is actually God speaking with her.
As Joan begins to trust God more, He asks her to do things, and she does, though often reluctantly. Many times things seem to go wrong, blow up, cause more harm than good, etc., and Joan questions why she was asked to do the task. Sometimes God points out the good effects (ripples) of her actions that she didn’t notice. But there is regularly a sense of mystery and you, the viewer, are aware that you still don’t really know the full story.
I think it can be like that with our time in the convent: We do not even recognize the influence we may have had on others or that they have had on us. And too often, when we don’t see these things, we try to fill in the gaps of situations – the “whys” that we can’t see yet – without knowing the full story. We think we know, but the truth is we can’t even imagine.
That reminds me of another show I just discovered, Once Upon a Time. The main character is Emma, who believes that her parents abandoned her on the side of the road 28 years ago. You eventually learn that her parents actually sent her from a fairy tale land to protect her, in the hope that she would one day be able to save them from an evil curse.
What would it be like for her to learn her real story and realize that everything she thought was true actually was not true at all? 28 years of anger, hurt, and bitterness about being abandoned -then suddenly you find out Truth – and that changes everything.
Could it possibly be the same for us? We may feel hurt, betrayed, abandoned by God, perhaps by our former communities, the Church, etc. We may think we know what happened. But do we really know? Do we really know God’s plan? What will it be like when we really, truly know?
I know: It will be like HEAVEN.
Until then, all we can do is speculate. So, what if:
Your time in the convent helped free you from a pattern of sin?
Your entering the convent inspired someone to re-examine their relationship with the Lord?
You let go of some possessions that someone else really needed?
God just wanted to see if you would say yes, like Abraham, and give Him everything, so that He could build something even better with you?
You inspired another sister to endure in her vocation while you were there?
Of course, it could be that none of those things was “the reason” you entered. We could very likely have the story all wrong. In the convent I was told to not judge the motivations behind other sisters’ behavior. It was incredibly hard. But there is such wisdom in that. We need to do the same with God: Trust that He has a plan. Trust that He knows the entire story. Trust that He really knows what is going on. And consider that perhaps we are at times blind to see it.
Whatever you do, don’t let the evil one lie to you and say it was a waste, and don’t be discouraged!
I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now.
But when he comes, the Spirit of truth, he will guide you to all truth.
John 16:12-13
By Joan d’Arc
Joan was in the convent for a time before finding herself suddenly back in the world. She enjoys reading and hanging out with friends. She also makes really good popcorn. Seriously good.
By Dee Bernhardt.
and then having it all “go to waste”. They’re afraid others will look down on them because they set their sights high, but didn’t make it. They’re afraid of starting all over again from scratch, because it might mean they’ll just fail again.
So I branched out a little. I traveled all of Western and much of Eastern Europe, by myself. At 23, I immigrated to Israel, also by myself, with every intention of making my life there. Israelis used to regularly ask me, “What, you mean you don’t have any family here? You don’t know anybody?” And just as regularly they would express awe when I answered in the negative. For five years, I supported myself as a freelance editor in Jaffa. I had a great professional reputation, and I was making exceptionally good money.
In May of that year I had one final fundraising event planned: a concert at my parish. It was a simple affair and I looked at it more as an opportunity to offer my violin talent to the parish than as a fundraiser. I entrusted the concert to the Blessed Mother. The concert went well, and afterwards I went to the parish hall for the reception. I was thinking of leaving when suddenly an elderly gentleman approached me and began speaking with me. At length, he put his face near mine and said, “Whisper in my ear the amount of debt that you have.” I told him. He said, “I may be able to help. Write to me. You’ll find my address on the $100 check that I put in the collection basket.”
very grateful to the Sisters for their goodness and patience with me. I was incredibly fearful of returning to the world, at first, and it was so disheartening to think that I may not be called to be the bride of Christ after all. It was all that I could do to entrust this transition to God and try to believe that He does indeed “lead the blind in ways unknown to them” (Is 42:16). I tried to trust again in His providence, more blindly now than ever, and believe that His ways must indeed be mysterious if He would pay off my huge debt in a miraculous way only to ask me to return to the world a year later. But Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and He guides the future as He has the past. His providence had never failed me, so I just had to abandon myself into a new, albeit unexpected, adventure. If He would provide me with something as small as a hair tie, how much more could He be trusted with all of the needs that I would encounter upon leaving the community?
I knew when I left that, even in a community dedicated to proclaiming the dignity of life, I could tell anyone else they were a beautiful, unrepeatable gift of God, but I could not believe it for myself. I knew that God was going to help me know that I was beautiful and loved.
After I left I was still asking God to change me into something better and more pleasing to Him. But then I realized, in prayer and in my relationships- that I already was! Even in the midst of depression and despair, when I clung to my disorder rather than God, when I was convinced I would never be enough for Him, He still looked upon me tenderly. My leaving Religious Life had not been a failure but only His pursuing me so that I could discover how much He loves ME, all of me, independent of my state of life, my apparent success, or the number of minutes I pray: Where I saw failure, He saw a window into the core of my heart. I was finally weak enough to let Him enter and fill the dark spaces.
The ID Card Saga and other Former Nun-People Problems
I was excited for everything about becoming a Sister. I thought I could leave everything behind including the old me, and start fresh. But history was repeating itself. I had done this before. In sixth grade I moved to a new school, and decided to change myself. I didn’t like who I was and how I looked, so I grew out my bangs, got contacts instead of glasses, bought a few new outfits (since my old wardrobe was almost entirely Land’s End – my mom’s favorite). This is when I started developing an eating disorder. It was just in my thoughts at first- I wanted to be different since I felt so invisible. It got worse in high school and my family was worried. My soul was crying out for help but was afraid to receive it, so I managed it, and was “okay” all through high school and college. It was an exhausting, never-ending search for self-acceptance and perfection. Even after all those years at “failing” to be perfect I thought I had finally found the one path that would make me perfect.
I don’t know how many of you watched the show Joan of Arcadia, but my family loves it. The show was only on TV for two seasons, starting in the Fall of 2003. The basic idea is that God appears (in human form) to Joan, a “normal teenager” who is understandably hesitant to believe that it is actually God speaking with her.
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