Untitled
an excerpt

Prologue

The social worker glanced down in the rearview mirror at the little girl in the backseat. She’d seen plenty of abuse cases in her career, but this one was one of the worst she’d ever seen. Mother a drug addict and prostitute, she had pimped out her 5 year old daughter for almost a year before Children’s Services had found out about it. Between the sexual abuse by the men and the physical and emotional abuse by the mother, she wondered if the child would ever fully recover.

“How’re you doing back there, Krissy? Is everything ok?”

The child looked up with her big brown eyes and nodded solemnly. She would respond to yes and no questions with a nod or shake of her head, but she hadn’t said a word since she’d come to the hospital. She’d spent a week there, being treated for malnutrition, cigarette burns, and two broken ribs. If she was in pain, she gave no indication.

Krissy clutched her stuffed rabbit a bit closer to her chest. One of the nurse’s had brought the plush animal to her on her first night in the hospital. The girl had awoken crying, but once she saw the bunny, she quickly clasped it to her. It hadn’t been out of her arms since, nor had she cried again.

“We’ll be at your Grandmother’s house in just a few minutes, Krissy. I know she’s very excited to see you. She hasn’t seen you since you were just a tiny baby, you know. You’ll like living with her. She’s a very nice woman. And she has a dog you can play with and two cats! Did I tell you that?”

Krissy nodded again, this time not looking up at the where the social worker was watching in the rearview. She watched out the window at the houses passing by, the people on the sidewalks, the cars on the road. She sucked her thumb solemnly as she held Bunny close. The nice lady said she was going to “grandmother”, but she didn’t know what that was. She knew what a dog was. The man in the apartment next door had a dog. If her momma didn’t see her, she could reach her hand out the door as they went by, and he’d sniff her hand and maybe lick it. If “grandmother” had a dog, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad living there. At least until Momma came back.

Krissy didn’t know where Momma was. The nice lady had come to the apartment one day while Momma was gone. The man next door let her in. Krissy was lying in her bed, trying not to cry because it hurt when she breathed. Momma was mad when she left. She had picked Krissy up and yelled at her and threw her onto the bed and stormed out of the house. The nice lady talked all quiet, and she smelled so good. She called someone on her little telephone, and two men came with a bed that had wheels, and they took her to a big building with lots of people. They talked to her and asked lots of questions, but Krissy knew better than to talk to them. That would make Momma mad, and Krissy didn’t like it when Momma got mad at her.

Krissy looked up when the car stopped. The nice lady, she said her name was Janie, got out of the car and opened the door beside Krissy. The unbuckled Krissy’s seatbelt and helped her out of the car. She got Krissy’s bag out of the trunk, and held out her hand.

Krissy looked up at the big white house. It really wasn’t very big, but Krissy had never been in a regular house before, so to her it was big. The house was all white except for the cheerful yellow of the front door and the trim around the windows. There was a deep porch that shaded the front door and windows, and all around the porch were flowerboxes with bright red flowers in full bloom. In the front yard was a big tree that stood over the house like a guard. Not a scary guard, but a nice guard who would keep all the bad people away. Krissy felt a good feeling coming from this place. She felt something inside her chest, that if had hardly ever felt before. It was like when the dog next door would lick her hand. A little flutter in her chest that made her feel good. Krissy looked up and Janie and took her hand, and walked with her to the house.
Chapter 1

Sr. Agatha buried her face in the side of the cow, feeling the warmth on her skin as she methodically squeezed the udders. The faint sssst, sssst, sssst of the milk hitting the pail helped her to maintain the meditative silence she had been taught was the goal of every nun. Maintaining interior silence so she can always be attuned to the voice of God. Sr. Agatha loved milking time. She loved the predawn silence in the old cathedral like barn, the only sounds those of the cows waiting to be milked. Not even the birds were awake. She felt as if she was the only person in the world and there was nothing to distract her from her constant litany of prayers to the Divine. At this time, she felt close to God than at any other. Not even the Eucharist brought her this close to the feeling of oneness with God that she found during these quiet pre-dawn hours.

As Sr. Agatha moved from cow to cow, she maintained the constant litany of prayer that occupied her conscious mind and allowed her soul to commune with her Beloved. This, she would think to herself occasionally, is why she became a nun. These precious hours she spent alone with God, these times of intense intimacy, these times of oneness. These times made all the struggles of convent life worthwhile.

Not that she hated her life in the monastery, of course. But like any life, it had its ups and downs. It had its good times and bad times, its struggles and joys, its successes and failures. Sr. Agatha was just pouring the last bucket of milk into the vat as the bells rang, calling her to chapel. She smiled to herself. Today was one of the successes. She was always happy when everything coincided properly. She liked to work at just the right pace so that one task flowed easily into another, with no wasted time, the day flowing along harmoniously along. She wiped her hands as she moved towards the main monastery building, already putting aside other thoughts as she prepared herself mentally for morning prayers and mass.

As she made her way towards the chapel, she joined the procession of the other Sisters, all gliding noiselessly along the corridor, like shadows against the wall. Heads bent, hands folded lightly under the scapular, each sister quieting her mind for this hour of communion. The only sound as they moved along was the faintest rustle of their habits, as they stopped one by one upon entering the chapel and bowed to the Abbess before each taking her place in the rows of stalls.

Sr. Agatha moved to her stall and silently lifted her office book and opened to the correct page. Learning to move so quietly had been one of the real struggles for her when she entered here almost eight years before. Of course, she knew now that it was a struggle for all those who entered. In the world, you are always surrounded by noise. The sound of TVs and radios, cars and people and appliances, they surround you all the time, so that you aren’t even aware of the noises you, yourself, make. But in the cultivated silence of the monastery, every sound echoes and is magnified. Sr. Agatha had been horrified at how loud her footsteps sounded, how the sound of the pages of her office book flipping echoed through the chapel, how even the sound of her chewing seemed magnified in the dignified silence of the refectory.

She closed her eyes and cleared her thoughts, waiting quietly for prayers to begin. She allowed the peace of the chapel and the other sisters seep into her soul, feeling the presence of God lift her spirits. In this moment, with it’s growing anticipation, she felt as if she had to hold her voice in as she waited….waited….waited….

“Oh God, come to my assistance”, the chantress sang out.

“Oh Lord, make haste to help me”. Sr. Agatha let the words of the chant roll out, her voice a praise to God. In the words, all the joy of the life she lived poured out giving praise and thanks. Chanting the psalms brought such elation for her. It was one of the things that first attracted her to the monastery, that they still chanted the psalms. Singing had always been her way of expressing emotion, of love, joy, fear, anger. Music moved her in ways nothing else could. In the daily chanting of the office, Sr. Agatha expressed all her most deeply held feelings. She gave them to God in a constant prayer and asked His aid in her daily struggles.

After Terce and Mass, the sisters filed out of the chapel and down the corridor to the Chapter Room. Each sister filed to her seat in the room and sat, waiting for the days announcements and reading. Sr. Agatha sat quietly through the reading of the martyrology and the day’s announcements. There was nothing very pertinent to her in the announcements, but some prayer requests that she noted in her book for later prayers. After the Abbess dismissed the community, Sr. Agatha filed out with the sisters and headed back to the barns. The cows would be waiting to go out to pasture and she needed to work on the mucking out. She was looking forward to the next two hours of hard work.

As Sr. Agatha entered the main barn, she saw Sr. Candida Maria checking on Maybelle, one of the cows.. Sr. Candida had been the farm manager for over 40 years and she insisted that every cow and barn cat had to have a name. She was a tiny, wizened little nun, barely 4’10” and extremely slim. Even at 97, though, she was still a dynamo. While the Abbess no longer allowed her to do hard physical labor, Sr. Agatha still caught the old nun mucking out stalls and hauling sacks of feed at times. While she ran the whole farm, the dairy and cheese making facility was Sr. Candida’s real love.

Sr. Candida looked up when Sr. Agatha entered the barn and waved to her to come over. As Sr. Agatha approached, Sr. Candida looked up from the clipboard where the milk volumes were recorded. “Maybelle looks like she’s off her milk. Has she been like that long?”

“Going on two weeks now. I’ve been watching her, and it looks like she might be drying up. Do you think we should breed her at her next cycle?”

“Maybe. Let’s watch her for another couple of weeks and see how she goes.” Sister Candida paused a moment before continuing. “By the way, I was talking to Mother Abbess this morning. I told her I wanted you full time after you make final vows. I want to train you to be farm manager after me. You’ve got the feel for it, especially for running the dairy.”

Sr. Agatha blushed bright red. “Sister, I haven’t even applied to make my final vows yet, and the community still has to vote on it. They might refuse me, you know.”

The elderly little nun just waved a hand in dismissal. “Of course they’ll allow you to make final vows. You’re one of the best nuns we’ve had enter in a good long time. You were born to be a nun!”

Sr. Agatha smiled softly, but still shook her head. “I think you’re biased, Sister. I love being a nun, but I don’t think all the sisters are as convinced as you that I belong in this life.”

Sr. Candida patted the younger nun briefly on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry about it. I’ve been in this monastery for almost 80 years. I can tell who’s going to make it and who isn’t. Trust me, you’ve got the right stuff.” Sr. Candida headed sprightly towards the door. “Now, let’s get to work. The cows want to go out.” Sr. Agatha chuckled and shook her head at the elderly nun as she started opening the gates. Sr. Agatha moved quickly to start guiding the cows out towards the pasture.

Later that afternoon, Sr. Agatha remembered that conversation as she dealt with a nun that she was certain would vote her out if she had the chance. Although Sr. Agatha spent her mornings working, she still spent her afternoons in the Novitiate studying with the other nuns in formation. Sr. Agatha had been the first nun to enter the monastery in five years, but since her entrance almost eight years earlier, there had been a real vocations boom. At the moment, the monastery had thirteen sisters at various stages of formation from Aspirant to Junior Professed.

As Sr. Agatha entered the Novitiate class room, she felt Sr. Mary Dorothy watching her. Sr. Agatha gave thanks, as she had many times since Sr. Dorothy had been made Novice Mistress, that Sr. Dorothy had not been Novice Mistress when she entered. She feared that had Sr. Dorothy been her original Novice Mistress, that she would never have been allowed to progress past her postulancy. The Mother Abbess, Sr. Mary Christopher, had been Sr. Agatha’s original Novice Mistress, but when she was elected to Abbess two years before, Sr. Dorothy had been appointed as the new Novice Mistress. Before that, Sr. Dorothy had been infirmarian. Sr. Agatha had worked under her for six months during her postulancy, before she had been transferred to working in the barns for Sr. Candida, much to Agatha’s relief.

It’s not that Sr. Agatha especially disliked Sr. Dorothy. It was more that she was certain that Sr. Dorothy disliked her. It seemed that no matter what she did, Sr. Dorothy found some fault with it. Whether it was the way she dressed in the morning, how she chanted the office, or even how she walked down the corridors, Sr. Dorothy found something to criticize. Sr. Agatha had thought she was progressing well in religious life until Sr. Dorothy became Novice Mistress. Now she often wondered if there was any chance at all that she would be admitted to final vows. Surely if Sr. Dorothy could see all of these faults, the other sisters could see them, too.

Sr. Agatha moved into the room and sat at the table with the other two Juniors. Sister Mary Cecelia and Sister Mary Martha had both entered the monastery together. They had been friends since grade school and their mothers often laughed that they might as well have been twins. They had entered three years after Sister Agatha, shortly before she made her first vows. They were leaning their heads together, whispering and trying to hold in their giggles. Sr. Agatha smiled benignly, but when she saw Sr. Dorothy’s stern eye upon them, she motioned to the two of them for silence.

She realized immediately that she had done the wrong thing. Sr. Dorothy’s eyebrows rose so high they were lost within her guimpe. Sr. Agatha stifled a sigh as she anticipated another lecture from Sister Dorothy on usurping the role of the Novice Mistress. Mother Abbess had never seemed to mind Sr. Agatha trying to help out her younger sisters in religion, but Sr. Dorothy seemed think that Sr. Agatha’s actions stemmed from an overabundance of pride, and she never failed to chastise her over it.

Sr. Dorothy cleared her throat and said “Please take out your chant books. I think we could all use a bit of practice today.” She looked over at Sr. Agatha before continuing. “I would like to remind you that chanting the office is not like singing a rock song. You are not a star giving a concert. You are simply one voice among many. When chanting the office, no one voice should ever stand out over the others.” She looked over at Sr. Agatha again. “Some of you take too much pride in your singing ability. In your desire to display your talent you drown out the voices of your sisters and attempt to distinguish yourself in the eyes of the laity that join us during prayers.” Sr. Dorothy’s voice became even more stern. “This is an unacceptable practice. Such displays of pride have no place in a holy monastery. If you cannot control yourself and your emotional, prideful urges, then this is not the place for you to live out your life.”

Sr. Agatha sat quietly with her head down. A tightness grew in her chest and she felt tears prick at her eyes, but she knew that letting the tears flow would only bring yet another lecture on her inability to control her emotions and her desire to distinguish herself from her sisters. She knew that she had a good singing voice, and she truly tried not to take pride in that. Her vocal talent was a gift from God, and she only wanted to use that gift give thanks for it. It seemed to her sometimes that to not use her gift to its fullest would be to deny that which God had given her. Mother Abbess had often spoken of each using their God given talents for the good of the monastery and to draw people closer to God. Sometimes Sr. Agatha was so confused by the seemingly conflicting information she got from the sisters in their training.

As the Sisters opened their chant books and began to practice, Sr. Agatha couldn’t help but think that her weekly session with Sister Dorothy this week would be even less pleasant than usual.

Two days later, Sister Dorothy sat in her office, preparing for her weekly meeting with Sister Agatha. She sat reviewing Agatha’s file and all the notes made by the previous Novice Mistress as well as her own notes since she had filled that role two years ago.

Today’s meeting was a very important one. Sr. Agatha’s yearly vows would end in two months, and it was time for her to request to be admitted to final vows. Normally, this was just a formality. If there were serious reason to think a Junior Professed would not be admitted to final vows, she was usually advised long before this of the likelihood. And while Sister Dorothy believed that Agatha should not be admitted to final vows, she knew that the rest of the community did not feel the same.

“They’ve all been bamboozled,” She thought to herself. “Taken in by that pretty face and false piety.” She thought about what she considered to be Sister Agatha’s many faults in religious life. “She’s so prideful. She has no idea what real humility is. She constantly seeks to distinguish herself, when a real nun is just one face among many. How many times have I told her that? She’s only eight years in religious life and yet she thinks herself some kind of spiritual authority. The other Juniors and Novices look up to her too much and she glories in the attention. She corrects them when that is not within her pervue. She speaks to readily in recreation, why she would monopolize every conversation if given the chance. How can all of the sisters be taken in by her.”

Her runaway thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Sister Dorothy took a moment to take a deep breath and calm her racing thoughts before calling “Enter”. Sister Agatha entered and came to kneel before Sister Dorothy. “Benedicite, “ she murmured, to which Sister Dorothy replied, “Dominus.”

Sister Dorothy continued, “Rise, child, and take a seat.”

Sr. Agatha rose, and perched on the edge of the proffered seat. The butterflies in her stomach had grown to the size of vultures, and she felt like they were trying to take huge bites out of her insides. She refrained from twisting her hands under her scapular, knowing that Sr. Dorothy’s all-seeing eyes would spot it in an instant. “A good nun,” she would say, “sits at peace with herself and the world. Only worldly pride would make a person agitated in the face of God’s will.” Sr. Agatha almost sighed, but caught herself in time. She kept her head bowed, waiting for Sr. Dorothy to speak. The clock in the corner ticked audibly on, and she could feel her heart race faster at the sound of each loud tck, tck, tck of the clock. She could feel the eyes of the Novice Mistress boring into her, waiting for her to make a mistake, waiting for a reason to chastise her, a reason to deny her the right to apply to make her final vows.

Just as she felt the tension come to a head, like she must scream if the silence went on a second longer, Sr. Dorothy finally spoke. “You know, of course, that this meeting will be our final meeting as Novice Mistress and Junior. In this meeting we must decide whether you will go on to apply to make your perpetual vows in this monastery.” Sr. Dorothy paused, and Sister Agatha looked up to see those piercing blue eyes flaring with an emotion she couldn’t identify. It frightened her. Sister Agatha had not felt like this since those days long ago when she was a child.

She mentally shook herself to rid her head of those thoughts. It was a long time ago. She was just projecting her memories onto Sister Dorothy. Sr. Dorothy was a nun, a very good nun if they chose to make her Novice Mistress. Sr. Dorothy would never harbor those kinds of feelings towards her. Sister Agatha tried to still her racing heart but couldn’t stop the cold sweat or acrid taste in her mouth that the memories always caused.

The silence again became oppressive, and Sr. Agatha couldn’t help herself this time. She started twisting her hands beneath her scapular, feeling like a fly in the trap of a very angry spider. She knew better than to speak, though. She lowered her head so as not to look into those bright blue eyes that could have sparkled so merrily, but instead always reminded her of the icy pond on a cold winter’s day.

Sr. Dorothy continued when Sister Agatha looked down. “I must tell you that I have grave doubts about your suitability to be a nun. I find you to be pretentious, overly pious, and self-absorbed.” Sister Dorothy’s voice started to rise and she paused for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing in a calmer tone of voice. “You are undisciplined and overly emotional. I believe you would be a detriment to the monastery if you continued on.”

Sister Dorothy paused again, and Sister Agatha fought back the tears that wanted to fall. She knew that she had faults, but she had not really anticipated that Sister Dorothy would not even allow her to apply to make vows. She had thought she would at least be able to take the case to the professed community.

She was opening her mouth to speak when Sister Dorothy held up her hand. “I have spoken to Mother Abbess about my doubts and concerns and I strongly recommended that at the very least you be required to continue as a Junior Professed for the maximum of two more years if she did not see fit to ask you to leave. However, Mother Abbess has chosen to disregard my rather sage advise, disregarding my years of experience with young nuns, and has decided that you may apply to make your perpetual vows, if you choose to do so.”

The tears that had been held back for too long in this interview finally broke free and Sr. Agatha could not stop them from dripping down her face and giving her away. Sr. Dorothy gave a soft snort. “Yes, I can see my hope that you would see reason if futile. This little emotional display makes it all to plain that you put you own wants before the needs of the monastery.”

No longer even attempting to control her temper, Sr. Dorothy stomped over to the filing cabinet and snatched a form from the top drawer. She turned and slapped the form and a pen on the desk in front of Sister Agatha. “Here is the form. Fill it out and take it to Mother Abbess. She will be waiting for you in her office.” With those words, Sister Dorothy stomped out of the office and slammed the door behind her.

Sister Agatha sat for several moments, letting the tears have sway. She looked at the form in front of her and wondered if Sister Dorothy was right. Was she a bad nun? Was she a really a detriment to the Abbey? But then she thought of Sr. Candida. She wanted Agatha to become the Farm Manager. And Mother Abbess herself had overridden Sister Dorothy’s desire to send her away. Perhaps she wasn’t quite as bad a nun as Sister Dorothy thinks. Maybe, despite her many faults, there was enough good about her that the Abbey would benefit from her continued presence.

Sister Agatha’s tears stopped flowing and she hesitantly reached out and picked up the pen. Then, with a resolute squaring of her shoulders, she started filling out the form to request to make her perpetual vows.

When she left the Novice Mistress’s office, she found Sisters Cecelia and Martha waiting for her.

“What happened?” cried Cecelia.

“We heard the door slam, and she stomped out in a right old temper,” Martha added. “Did she give you the form? Is she going to let you apply?”

Sister Agatha smiled at the girls. Although they were only a three years younger than she was, she always felt so much older that them. She knew she should urge them not to gossip, but in her elation, she couldn’t bring herself to dampen the mood. Sister Agatha removed her hand from under her scapular and showed the girls. “She tried to dissuade me, but in the end, she gave me the form!”

Sr. Cecelia squealed, and Martha and Agatha both quickly shushed her. “Do you want the old battle axe to come after us in the temper she’s in?” Martha asked. Agatha’s eyebrows went up and her eyes went wide.

“Martha, you shouldn’t say things like that. Sister Dorothy is a good nun. She wouldn’t be Novice Mistress if she weren’t. She deserves your respect.”

Martha just scoffed. “Agatha, I love you, but sometimes you’re terribly naïve. Sister Dorothy has had it out for you since she became Mistress. Being forgiving doesn’t mean not seeing people for what they are, you know.”

Agatha shook her head. “I don’t believe that, Martha. Sister Dorothy had the best of the Abbey at heart. If she’s hard on us, it’s because she wants us to be the best nuns possible. You should make a penance, you know, for calling Sister Dorothy names, and for doubting her motives.”

Martha laughed quietly, still afraid of drawing Sister Dorothy’s temper onto her. “That’s why I love you, Agatha. You have such a pure heart. But that heart’s going to hurt you one day if you aren’t careful.”
Cecelia nodded. “I wouldn’t put it quite the way Martha did, but I have to agree you know, Agatha. Sister Dorothy does appear to have it in for you. I don’t know why, but everyone in the Novitiate has seen it. Just be careful, ok? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Agatha succumbed to temptation and gave the two girls a quick hug. “What am I going to do without the two of you to keep me grounded? If I’m accepted to make final vows, I’ll be moving out of the Novitiate. I’m happy about that, but I’m sad to be leaving the two of you!” She heard the clock strike the hour and looked up, startled. “Oh, dear, Mother Abbess is waiting for me. I have to go.” She gave the girls a wave and hurried out the door of the Novitiate.”

At the quiet “Enter” in reply to her knock, Sr. Agatha opened the door to Mother Abbess’s office and closed it behind her. After she knelt and received the blessing, Mother Abbess, Sr. Mary Catherine, rose and led Sister Agatha to the seating area to the side of her desk. It was indicative of Sister Catherine’s personality. She didn’t have conversations from behind her desk. As a matter of fact, her desk sat facing the wall. Sister Catherine felt it gave her office a more open feel, and she didn’t like to speak with her nuns as if she was the voice of authority handing down edicts. It was one of the many things Agatha loved about the Mother Abbess.

Sister Christopher sat looking at Agatha for several moments. Agatha felt none of the tension she had under Dorothy’s gaze. Sister Christopher was more like a good friend than a superior. Sister Christopher smiled when Agatha looked up at her. she quirked an eyebrow.

“You have something for me, I presume,” she said with a wry grin.

Agatha started and blushed. She pulled out the form she had tightly clenched in her fist and blushed brighter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wrinkle it.”

Sister Christopher laughed. “Trust me, dear. I’ve seen them in worse shape than that.” She gently took the sheet from Agatha and straightened it, then laid it aside and looked at Agatha again.”

“How old were you , dear, when you first started writing to me? It’s been so long, I can’t remember.”

“Ummm….I’m not sure, Mother. I think I was…I must have been eleven. We were in the fifth grade, and we had just had a nun visit the class and talk about vocations. I think I knew from the first few minutes of her talk that I wanted to be a nun. I can still remember her name, too. It was Sr. Mary Elizabeth of the Holy Cross. She was a Carmelite.” Sister Agatha smiled at the memory. “That afternoon, when I was in the library, I looked in the vocation manual and wrote down the names of all the monasteries I could find. I spent the next month writing to each and every one of them. Gram thought I was crazy to be writing so young, but she indulged me, and provided postage “

“Every community I wrote to replied with the same thing. We’ll pray for you, but you’re too young to consider this now. Write back when you’re 16.” Agatha smiled ruefully. “I was so crushed. I had this burning desire to devote myself to God and no one wanted to even discuss it with me. And then I got your letter.” Agatha smiled her gentle, radiant smile at the memory.

Sister Catherine smiled also at the memory. “I really don’t know why I didn’t write the same thing to you, Agatha. It’s what I would normally have written to a young girl with aspirations to a vocation. There truly wasn’t anything much different in your letter from the rest of the letters we get from young girls. But something stirred in me when I read your’s. I can only assume it was the prompting of the Holy Spirit that bade me to write to you as I did. I had certainly never done so before, and I haven’t done so since. I told Mother Abigail that I must have lost my mind.” Catherine laughed. “But she just said to wait and see what came of it before questioning my sanity. And here we sit today, 12 years later, and you are ready to make your perpetual vows.” Sister Catherine spoke these words in a soft loving tone, with a gentle look in her soft brown eyes.

Then she sat up straighter and became more business like. “So, did Sister Dorothy go over the procedure with you, how things will go from here?”

“No, Mother. She just gave me the form and told me to come to you once I’d filled it out.” Agatha pointedly did not speak of Sister Dorothy’s temper or her vituperative words.

“I see.” Mother’s mouth folded itself into a tight line for a moment. But then she smiled and said, “Well, good. Then I get to have the pleasure of doing it all myself.”

“This is how things will unfold. Tomorrow morning at Chapter, I will announce that you have applied to be accepted into Perpetual Vows. You will continue your usual schedule for the rest of the week, working on the farm in the mornings and studying in the Novitiate in the afternoon. On Friday morning, after the announcements in Chapter, the Novitiate will be asked to leave the room. The sisters will then have a chance, after 3 days of contemplating your application, to discuss your suitability to make your perpetual vows.

I must tell you, Agatha, that the report from the Novice Mistress is usually given great import in these decisions. It is she who spends most of the time with you and as your spiritual director, should know your suitability better than anyone.”

I know that Sister Dorothy has a less than positive opinion of your readiness, Agatha. That is unlikely to be a surprise to you.” Christopher smiled at Agatha to take some of the sting out of the words. “However, you have some not inconsiderable opinions on your side as well. I know Candida is whole heartedly in support of you making final vows, and she’s not exactly retiring when it comes to sharing her opinion, is she?”

Christopher became more serious. “You have me on your side as well, Agatha. Not only because we wrote for so many years, but also because I was your spiritual director and Novice Mistress for your first six years in the Abbey. However, as Abbess, I try not to unduly influence the Sisters in Chapter. You know that our community has always believed strongly in consensual decision making. While final decisions in most things fall to the Abbess, our rules caution us not to overrule the community frivolously or to bring undue influence to bear during Chapter. As such, I cannot be as vocal a supporter as I would like to be. You do understand why that is necessary, don’t you, Agatha.”

Agatha looked into the troubled eyes of the Abbess, and smiled tremulously. “It’s ok. I understand. It helps just to know that you believe in me, Mother. Sometimes, when I’m listening to Sister Dorothy, I wonder if I haven’t made a huge mistake and wasted everyone’s time here all these years.” Agatha’s eyes started to fill with tears again. “I’ve tried, really truly tired, Mother, to be all that Sister Dorothy wants me to be. But no matter what I do, it’s always wrong!” Agatha took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. “But then you or Sister Candida, or one of the other will tell me how naturally I fit in here, and then I really get confused.”

Sister Christopher reached out and took Agatha’s hand in hers. “Agatha, I don’t know why Sister Dorothy has the feelings about you that she does. She really is a good nun. I wouldn’t have asked her to be Novice Mistress if I hadn’t believed she was right for the job.” Christopher frowned and looked troubled. “I’ve talked to her again and again about this issue. She is convinced somehow that all of us have been duped by you and that you are just a self-centered pretender that will bring disaster to the Abbey.

“I’m sorry, Agatha, that you’ve had to endure this for the last two years. But, I must admit to being pleased with how well you have dealt with the adversity. I was afraid, giving your childhood issues, that you might decide to leave us. But instead, you have endured and even blossomed during the last two years. You should be very proud of yourself.”

Agatha blushed red as Christopher patted her hand one last time and sat back. “Thank you, Mother. Sister Dorothy though,” Agatha smiled, “would say that pride is my biggest fault.”

Christopher laughed. It was a big, hearty laugh that wasn’t heard often within the silence of the monastery. “I don’t think you have to worry to much about your pride, Agatha. You’re one of the most humble people I know. Now, let’s get back to the topic at hand. As I was saying, on Friday morning, the Sisters who are already fully professed will have a chance to discuss your desire to enter into Perpetual Vows. Each Sister may speak her mind freely, as making final vows is not something to be entered into lightly, neither on the part of the sister making the vows nor on the part of the community that is accepting her. These discussions can be quick, or they can be quite lengthy. You and the other sisters in formation will continue your work as usual during the discussions. When the community feels everything has been said that needs to be said, then the vote will take place. It is a blind vote, with each sister placing one of three marbles in the voting container. White is for yes. Blue is for waiting another year. And Black is for no. There must be a 2/3s vote for each option to be adopted. If it isn’t reached on the first vote, we have further discussion and revote. As I said, this can be a lengthy process or a short one. And honestly, I never know which it will be. I’ll go in thinking this will be a quick vote and it will take hours. Other times I expect a lengthy process and it is over in minutes. So, don’t be concerned if you think it’s taking too long. There’s no rule of thumb for these things.

Now, once the vote is complete, you will be called to my office. It is our habit to disclose the results of the vote privately. If you are accepted, you will then go to the Chapter and be greeted by all of the nuns. If you are asked to wait, then you will continue as you have and we will make arrangements for your to renew your annual vows. If we are denied, then we will go over that process then.

Do you understand the process as I’ve explained it to you?”

Sister Agatha started to speak, but couldn’t push the words past the lump in her throat, so nodded to Sister Catherine.

“Excellent.” Sister Catherine rose gracefully from her chair. “If you have any questions, just come to me, alright?” Sister Catherine traced the sign of the cross on Agatha’s forehead in blessing. Agatha bowed and left the office, her heart both lighter and heavier than before she entered.

Chapter 2

Sister Agatha woke to the sound of the bells, as she had every morning for the last eight years. She rose quickly and knelt by her bed, her rosary in her hand, for the morning Angelus. She heard around her the other Sisters in the Novitiate rising and kneeling, the squeak of the bedsprings, the rustle of nightgowns, the rattle of rosaries a comforting sound. She thought briefly that she would miss these sounds when she moved to the main living quarters of the Abbey. The Sisters in Perpetual Profession had individual cells, while in the Novitiate, each cell was a curtained off area within a larger dormitory.

As Sister Dorothy entered the dormitory and began the Angelus, Agatha cleared her mind and allowed herself to float away on the prayers. At the end of prayer, she rose, and with long practice, straightened her simple bed and prepared for the day. She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth at the basin in her cell and then opened the wardrobe in preparation for dressing for the day. As she donned each part of the habit, she murmured a prayer. Each item had its own prayer, its own significance and symbolism in the life of the nun.

The habit had changed over the years. The voluminous veils and heavy skirts were gone, as well as the multiple layers of underclothing. Under the habit, they wore modern, simple bras and panties and all the underskirts were replaced by a simple cotton slip. The dress itself hadn’t changed much. It was a couple of inches shorter, and the skirts much less wide, but it was still constructed from the same black wool, with the same scapular they had always worn. The starched guimpe and coif had been replaced with unstarched cotton and the tight headgear done away with entirely. The heavy, voluminous double veils were replaced replaced by a slightly shorter, single lightweight veil: white for novices, light blue for Juniors, and the black veil was received when a Sister made her perpetual vows.

The only thing that hadn’t changed were the traditional, rope-soled sandals. More modern shoes usually had either leather or rubber soles. The leather clicked loudly against their stone floors, and the rubber soles tended to squeak against the floors. So the Abbey continued to make their own shoes, worn with heavy wool stockings in the winter for warmth, and lighter cotton stockings in the summer.

The habit may have changed, but the Sisters’ reverence for it certainly hadn’t. Agatha kissed her blue veil and then pinned it in place with the same reverence she treated each piece of her habit. She wondered if, perhaps, she might actually get her black veil in a month’s time after all. She said a quick prayer that it might be so before pulling back her curtains for the day and leaving the dormitory.

Sister Agatha had a hard time that morning maintaining the inner silence that usually came so easily to her. Usually, she was moved by the sameness of her morning duties. The smells, the feels, the tiny quiet sounds that peeped through the silence. She attenuated to all of it, letting it fill her senses, being totally present in the moment as she experienced God in the moment. This morning, though, she was unaware of all of these things. Oh, she tried to fall into her usual meditative work patterns, but she just couldn’t get her mind off of the vote that was ahead that morning. Maybelle shifted in protest to the unusual strength with which Agatha was milking. Agatha stopped and patted Maybelle in apology, and then went back to her work more gently, apologizing in her mind to God and Maybelle for her lack of attentiveness.

Agatha remained inattentive through prayers and mass. She tried to pray for acceptance of God’s will, no matter how the vote went, but as the words came forward, it was always the same. “Please let it be yes….please let it be yes!” Agatha was so distracted and so fearful that she began to wonder if Sr. Dorothy was right, and she really was too self-centered to be a good nun.

At last Mass was over and the nuns processed from the chapel to the chapter room. The reading of the Martyrology passed with increasing tension, and then came the announcements. The Mother Abbess rose and started speaking.

“This morning we will discuss and vote on the application of Sister Agatha to enter into her solemn, perpetual vows. This is a moment that effects the lives of us all, into the future. It is a matter of great solemnity and seriousness. I invite the Novitiate to leave us now. You will got about your usual tasks for the day. If you are scheduled for study, you may spend that time in the chapel in prayer or with your spiritual reading.”

The Sisters in the Novitiate rose as one, turned, and processed solemnly from the room. Sister Agatha kept her eyes down, not wanting to look any of the Sisters in the eyes, afraid of what she would, or wouldn’t, see there.