When the nine-day retreat was over, Sister Lucia, Sister Natalie, and I went on a walk around the Motherhouse. It was nice being with the swift-footed Sister Lucia and the long-legged Sister Natalie: I didn’t have to slow my pace at all.
“How was your retreat, Sister Mary Joan?” asked Sister Lucia.
“I loved it!” I exclaimed, adding a little skip to my step. “All the quality time with Jesus was amazing. Nine days, steeped in the Lord's presence." As I spoke, we started ascending the back hill, towards the novitiate. "I loved having time to really think and pray about things, without worrying about anything else.”
“What about you, Sisters?” I asked, panting for breath. The hill was steep.
“It was good,” Sister Natalie said, with her typical reserve. “But it did feel a bit long, at the end.”
I hadn’t felt like the retreat was too long. It was nine days full of the stuff that had attracted me to religious life: contemplative prayer, inspiring preaching, and moments of deeper intimacy with God.
Sister Lucia studied her black shoes.
“What about you, Sister?”
“It was…hard,” Sister Lucia admitted. “I struggled with all the silence. It was still good, but I’m glad that it's over."
Her answer surprised me. Sister had been preparing to enter Saint Cecilia’s for years. When it came to following the rule of silence, she was especially faithful.
“I loved the retreat,” I repeated. “I wish it would never end. I suppose that’s what heaven will be like.”
Sister Natalie smiled. “That’s good, Sister.”
“Yes, I’m glad for you,” echoed Sister Lucia.
The differences in our retreat experiences gave me food for thought.
Maybe I've finally found something I'm good at here: being with Jesus.
I wasn't good at singing or music, and I knew little about the community's apostolate of teaching. But...I could spend nine days in a silent retreat and be happy about it. Nine days of gazing at the Lord, and Him gazing back at me. Nothing fancy or complicated. Just Jesus and His little lamb, Sister Mary Joan.
Oh Jesus, our time together was so wonderful. How can I leave You now?
You don’t have to, He answered. I'm coming with you.
What's In a Name
A week before reception of the habit, the other postulants and I submitted our top religious name choices to Mother Superior and her council. They would pick a name from our list, or any other one that they decided. Our religious names would symbolize our new identity as members of the religious community, and as women betrothed to Jesus Christ.
One of the older sisters had famously been given the name Sister Mary Jerome.
We were hoping not to get names like that, but we knew it could happen.
“It’s not so easy, finding a good name,” one postulant lamented.
In a community of almost 300 sisters, it was hard to find a name that wasn’t already taken. It also had to be a name that our future students could spell and pronounce.
Thankfully, there was a dearth of female saint names, Latin expressions, and two-part names (such as Sister Mary Frances) to broaden our possibilities.
“I wanted to try Sister Eva,” Sister Lucia told me, “but when I asked my older sister, she said I couldn’t use it. It’s her middle name.”
“I want to choose a name that’s a little spicy,” Sister Courtney announced. “Sister Merida, Sister Francesca…”
“Francesca is awesome! Put that name down,” I encouraged her. "It suits you."
“What are your top name choices, Sister Mary Joan?” Sister Courtney asked. She had short, curly brown hair, stylish red glasses, and a big personality. She also used to play the bagpipes in a Scottish marching band, back at home.
“Well, I want to include Sister Mary Casimir,” I told her. “He’s the patron saint of Poland, and it’s my grandfather’s name.”
“Oh, that’s great! No one has that name here.”
“I also thought of Sister Mary Carmel,” I added shyly. “But…”
“What is it?”
“I thought maybe Sister Inez Marie or Mary Inez might be a good name choice. My friend Inez was a spiritual role model for me growing up, and her name is the Spanish form of Saint Agnes.”
“Oh! Saint Agnes, whose symbol is the lamb!” Sister Courtney exclaimed. She knew how much I loved the image of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, carrying the lambs of His flock.
I nodded. “That name would honor Inez, and also show how I am God’s little lamb.”
“That sounds like three solid name choices to me.”
“Yes, we will see what Mother and the council decide…for all of us," I said.
Reception of the Habit
I rose with the bell, made my bed, brushed my teeth and went to meditation just like every other morning. I ate a quick breakfast after Lauds and Mass, just like usual, and participated in breakfast cleanup, as always.
But today was no ordinary day. Today was July 27, 2013. Reception of the Habit Day. Becoming a Novice Day. Becoming a Real Sister Day.
Today, I’d receive a new habit and a religious name. I’d replace my awkward postulant things for a lovely medieval garment—a permanent dressing-up for the Renaissance Festival of religious life.
"And then they'll cut off our hair like Mulan in the Disney film," I told the other postulants. "Except maybe not with a sword."
My friends laughed, but I was really excited about the hair-cutting part. Ever since I'd seen the Mulan trailer when I was 12 years old, I'd longed to make a similar noble gesture of my love. Cutting my hair would show the depth of my devotion, and my commitment to the One who had called me to Saint Cecilia's. To the One who loved me, and even more incredible, wanted me to be here. Me, little Sister Mary Joan.
If He wanted me to be a novice, there was no way I was turning Him down.
That day had come. It was July 27, 2013, and I was ready to enter my cloistered year.
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