Cloister Garden

I’d never spent Thanksgiving in a convent full of Sisters, all of whom seemed more excited about the St. Cecilia antiphons than the turkey.

The weekend before Halloween, a sign went up on the novitiate whiteboard: Meet outside the Oratory tonight for the “Secret Secret”.

“Taco night,” whispered Sr. Marisa, “and that means toppings.”

During my first few outdoor recreations, I felt a little nervous. Was this going to be a repeat of my sixth grade gym class?

"Serving coffee to the Sisters is like the eighth work of mercy," the novices liked to joke. After a few invigorating sips, I had to agree.

"Don't think without Him." For a place that was so physically peaceful and quiet, I was astonished by all the noise inside my head.

The reality that my family was about to go home and I was going to stay here, permanently, made everything else seem trivial in comparison.

I took a deep breath. This was it. I was leaving my old life behind, and entering the cloister.

Do you really mean it, Mary? The Lord seemed to be asking. Will you really give up everything, even marriage, for Me?

The words sprang from the depths of the novice's hearts, proclaiming their longing for the Lord: "While the music played, Cecilia sang..."

I wasn’t ready yet. I couldn't see the road ahead. But what did that matter, if Jesus wanted me?

“I don't think the Lord wants me in Kentucky anymore,” I told my dad over the phone. “But how can I give up my job?”

“Our life here isn’t natural,” Sr. Emma, the vocational director, had told us. “It’s super-natural.”

I was on my way to retreat with the Dominican Sisters of Saint Cecilia.

The Lord gazed back at me silently from His place of repose. He gave me no sign; He didn’t need to. I already knew what I had to do.

When I returned to Kentucky after Easter, the Lord gave me no sign I should enter a convent. Instead, He sent me Aidan.

Kentucky was the last place I lived before entering the convent. Every detail of my life here helped prepare me for entrance day.

I had it all: great job, posh apartment, new friends. I felt confident in myself, and pretty. But what was happening to Mary on the inside?

I was like my friend Jim: even with such a generous speed limit, I wanted more. Not so much miles per hour, but more out of my life.

The Lord was calling me. He spoke to me in those intimate Thursday mornings before the Blessed Sacrament, and through the beauty of the