#conventlife

[littledoveofdea]

Just saying, if anyone is interested in working together to create a Deanic/Filianic/Madrian household/convent, please DM! 🙏🏼🌹💖🔥

#deanism #filianism #dea #mothergod #aristasia #conventlife

[wildflower8281]

Am I a Gypsy?

Today I sat down at a periwinkle wooden table with lime green cushioney chairs and journaled out how I want my life to look and feel for the next few years. All of the realms of it - feelings, body, home, work, friends, lovers, leisure. I’m currently house & pet sitting in a beautiful home in Scottsdale, with a huge pool, spacious, bright interiors and the sweetest, shaggy dog you’ll ever meet, Murray. It feels like a rather large Airbnb experience to me and has given my mind a place to rest and a bit of a vacay vibe, which is welcome after a few weeks of transition and seeking some new work opportunities.

So here I am: Age 37 and in a place in my life, yet again, where I can totally recreate my world in a new way. I’ve done this a few times already in my life and I look at it as a gift each time, albeit not always arriving when Kelly feels ready, or in the way Kelly thinks it might arrive, but a gift nonetheless - a space in time where I shed a version of myself that is no longer and step into something new, yet at the same time, is still fundamentally me.

(Photo: Current View, #house-sittinglife)

Past and Present

To give some perspective, 10 years ago, Summer 2009, I was halfway into a 4 year stint as a missionary nun in East Harlem, having 5 years of convent life under my belt. I spent a good part of that summer in Guyana, in S. America, living the adventure, sleeping under a mosquito net, driving on the left side of the road and boating down the river to visit remote communities. We organized a girls summer camp, bathed in the river twice a day and slept in tents for 2 weeks. It was pretty awesome honestly. Guyana and Harlem were both vibrant communities, with beautiful people and so many lessons. And yet, that life - as a religious sister - was not one I wanted to live for the rest of mine, so in 2011, I walked and it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

(Photo: Bright Lights of Guyana, 2009)

So, when I say I’ve been here before, in this space of recreating my life and who I want to be in this world, I most definitely have been and returning home from the convent was one of those moments. At age 30, I came home from religious life with a few-inches-past-buzzed hair situation, 1 pair of sports pants, a few t-shirts, sneakers and sandals much too worn. For the past 8 years, my identity had been Sister Lumen (and/or Madre Lumen, at least in Harlem)....Now, I had to re-take-up my birth name and being of KellySue...Who the heck is that and what is she like at age 30 out here in this new world where people curse, read magazines and don’t ask permission for things?!

Holy Fucking Shit! (I wrote that honestly prior to realizing the amazing irony of the phrase...needless to say, I’ve come a long way.) Yea, the journey back into ‘the world’ is pretty fantastic actually, even though it’s laced here and there with some tears and fears. Everything from shopping for clothes, applying to jobs, making friends and, gasp, dating is like navigating uncharted waters when you haven’t even really been trained in how to sail. I have an entire post dedicated to “Things They Don’t Tell You When You Leave” here if you’d like to walk through the details: 15 Things They Don't Tell You When You Leave the Convent

So, post-convent I was faced with creating not only a new life in pragmatic ways, but truly a new identity. Or more accurately, finding the original one! So, while I dabbled in teaching and other cool gigs, flitted around with a few cool folks and loved a magical man from Brooklyn, the most important thing I “did” in New Jersey was find KellySue. And it was with that Found-Self that I boarded a 1-way flight to Arizona and knew in my gut the bright, mystical southwest would be my next home, and in many ways my first home - a space and life that I had created from the ground up, from the desires and images in my heart, to the colors that hang on my walls, the geeks and artists I spent my time with and the friends and lovers who have traversed my life here.

(Photo: Essequibo River, Guyana where we camped & bathed for 2 weeks)

And yet today, about 3.5 years into my Phoenix stint, I sit here at this table that 

is not mine, before Life Herself yet again. I have moved on from the Art Center, my first landing and family community here (aside from my real family of course,) a place that held me as I grew and challenged me to thrive. I rent The Dollhouse (a fabulous casita snuggled in the backyard of the main house, in the eclectic hood of #Coronado) and love her very much, but have very few possessions - no car, the bike I ride is not mine, no large appliances. I have clothes, a phone and my laptop. I have a great mattress, 1 dresser, 1 couch, 2 pretty teal chairs and a table from #Target. My smaller tables & most art supplies are from my Aunt, my dishes are from #Goodwillphx, as are mostly everything of decorative purpose. I don’t own many books by choice and prefer the #phxpubliclibrary. Even though I’ve curated my space lovingly and it most definitely echoes my vibe of colorful, bright and cozy - none of it is stuff that anchors me in this city. If someone offered me a job or to house-sit for a few months in Spain or Belize or pretty much anywhere new to me, I’d be off in a heartbeat!

(Photo: Unsplash)

That Time on Mt. Washington

So, today I sit here and ask myself, “Kelly, what do you want in your life?” I dedicate 1 page per theme: Feelings, Home, Work, Friends, Leisure, Lover. And I feel and write, imagine and think. And it crosses my mind more than once that not many people have this luxury. Well, I consider it a luxury! Perhaps some would consider it frightening or some other adjective, who knows?! To be 37, no kids, no pets, no house, no partner (3 out of 4 are very intentional...the 4th is seasonal, lol!) To sit at a table and draft & craft some Life up for the next 3-5-10 years or so. To be open to all the opportunities the Universe offers me, to list and discern and choose things I desire, experiences I want, types of people and energy I seek to feel. To me, this is luxury.

But this moment of vision and serenity hasn’t come without some unrest and many months of annoyance! It’s been a long journey to arrive to this table, to my journal, to feeling calm and open to the Universe’s next plans for me. Read on...

This arises in me every few years now, since I’ve been home. I feel like I’ve landed, I settle in, get cozy and then, kinda little by little, but eventually all of the sudden I look around where I am and my eyes grow wide….

I pause, really look around, almost squinting to make sure, like, “No, it can’t be. Not yet. Not already…” That takes a good 3-4 months.

Then, I sigh and look around again, really feel into the energy of the space I’m in in my life and interiorly nod my head, as I think, “Uh-huh, yep...Alli esta….There it is...Ha llegado la hora…..It’s time.” This phase lasts another 1-2 months….

I think on it, ponder it, hold that feeling between my fingers, feel the texture of it and ask Life, “Really?! Again?! Already?!”

And, as I’m examining this situation from all angles in fits and starts, Life leads me (kicks, shoves me) right out the door because It Is fucking time, Kelly!

She ushers me into a brand new space (in all the senses) and opens the Doors of this new space so wide that the bright light actually hurts at first glance…

Like some aching pain, squinting, not seeing quite clearly, some fear, uncertainty, wanting to turn around and run back to where it’s darker, but familiar and I’m good at the stuff back there….

One thing the convent teaches you is humility….for better or worse, ha (#chapteroffaults.) It is a good virtue to possess and it has been a tool I have wielded in these moments in my life many times, a trusty friend if used wisely and, seemingly ironically, with confidence. Because humility allows me to be a novice each time, to be Ever-the-Learner, to be always open to the new. Humility allows me to be ok with not knowing everything, to be ok with being the new girl yet again, to be ok with waking up for weeks on end not knowing where you’re going to land, but trusting that you will, indeed, land, and land amazingly well because that’s what you do! Because ultimately, humility is not just relying on myself. It’s Me & The Universe. It’s trusting the shove out the door and believing the blinding light will one day actually clearly guide your path onto your next adventure and into a fuller version of yourself. Humility is like that time we (the nuns) hiked down Mt. Washington as the sun was setting, lead by only a flashlight, in the dark, wet forest, holding hands and trusting that if the sister in front of you landed her step safely, then the tiny light was all you also only needed to land safely. Humility allows for the one small step at a time, even if you don’t see the end or full picture yet, you know the Universe is showing you what you need in the moment you need it….

Also, Nature Herself is Humble, so there’s that….

Trees thrive where they’re planted.

Flowers are brilliantly radiant, yet silent.

The Ocean ebbs and flows forever without fanfare.

Birds unknowingly bring joy with their songs.

Mountains rise in splendor and ask no glory.

Gypsy Secrets

For someone who left the missionary life proper, who considers herself a homebody and most definitely a lover of the reliable routine, I find it funny that in the grand scheme of things, I actually move through life quite like a #gypsy! I’ve always been someone who leads with simplicity and doesn’t need many material items to feel happy, and I have never set an anchor in a place so deep that it forfeited my freedom to roam - a desire I’m learning is an essential part of my being. It’s a paradox of myself that I find really interesting. I will be the most reliable worker, on top of all my shit, I will work out faithfully and read daily, I eat the same things most days because I like them….and yet, every 4 years or so I will hop on a plane, take of my habit, walk out of a job and just fling myself into the Universe in this kind of radical, unconventional way (‘You’re leaving your job and you don’t have the next one lined up?!’….I’ve done this now 3x in my life quite successfully thankyouverymuch!) only to be explained by a feeling inside of me that I can no longer ignore. Or, more accurately, that no longer lets me ignore it. And so I go, I leave, I move, I reconsider, I recast dreams, I open, I sigh alot...I take that one clear step and then breathe, wondering what the next version of myself and my life will taste and feel like, grateful for the adventure and most importantly, knowing that “home” is not a place, but rather is within me, the liberating secret that every true #gypsy lives by.

[carmeldcj]

Veel veranderd, maar ook weer zo weinig... #conventlife (bij Carmel DCJ) https://www.instagram.com/p/B4kQyPjpFEH/?igshid=1t7s826tgkgdf

[tumultuous-daydreams-blog]

Incensed

When one goes in a Church, does one not touch the divine, and spring on flighted heels towards that which, wrapped in incense and the perfume of martyrdom, gives life to the very soul of poetry; that is, to the heart of beauty itself? What mystic langour - the fulfillment of a vow!

[nun-to-be-blog]

[0426]

Love is something that you can't learn it from books. It has to implanted and practiced since you were a kid. Love is more than just a lust or passion. Love is not a feeling; it's an act. An act to fully give yourself to others, not a part of yourself. An act to share whay you have to them who are lacking what they need, not only food or money, but also care and happiness.

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The bombing tragedy in Sri Lanka really made me shocked. It happened literally everywhere, consecutively. It killed many innocent lives and I remember there's a statue of Jesus sprayed by their blood. It was a terrifying sight to see. Even more it was a terrifying thing for the victims to experience and remember. There's one question lingered in my mind : why did the bombers do that? It stucked in my mind until this morning I've got the answer.

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I love biology and I know more or less how the nature works. One thing that inspires me the most is how a plant carries their sugar produced from photosynthesis from one part to another part. It's complex but it's actually a fundamental thing to our life. The flow of the sugar starts from certain parts of plants called 'sugar source' and then with the help of the water from the xylem it moves down the floem to the 'sugar sink'. That's how.

Yes, naturally, everything in the nature flows from the higher concentration to the lower one. Even the water does so too. The osmosis, diffusion, transport, everything moves based on the same law of nature. What happened if the plant I told you above doesn't transport the sugar to the whole parts of it? It will die. Imagine if the sugar source just wants to enjoy the sugar by itself, it doesn't want to share what it has to the other part of the plant. Maybe the sugar source won't die first, but slowly all the parts of the plant will die.

Eventually, the society or the world also works that way. We can see so many greedy people enjoy the things they have just for theirself and get drowned in it. Meanwhile, in another part of the world, lots of people are starving, crying for food and rushing to the mountain just to get a bucket of water. How can this world experience obesity and starving at the same time, for instance? Why? Because people don't want to share. They just want to enjoy it for theirself. Most importantly, they don't want to share because they lack of one fundamental thing, LOVE! They are lacked of love. And slowly, the whole world will die, without we realize it. Just like that plant.

.

Then what is the correlation with the bombing in Sri Lanka? Yes, the bombers, they are simply out of love. They don't know how to love. They don't know what they did would kill thousands of lives and cause even more sadness and mourning all over the world. When people lost humanity, that is when they're out of love. The act of sharing the sugar we see from the plant, that is one example of love, caring and sharing. If the nature knows how to love, why can't we?

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Love is the fundamental thing in every people's life. Without love, people will just do everything what they want without caring about other people's life. Love has to underlie everything we do and say. Love has to be the essence of our life. Love has to the reason why we do something. Go out and spread the love! ❤🤝

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Prayer for the victims of the bombing. May God strengthen the families and give the eternal peace to those who die in the relationship with Him. And may God grant love and peace to the whole world.

#catholic #catholicchurch #sisterhood #catholicnun #nunsrock #thoughts #dailyinspiration #personalblog #diary #deardiary #vocation #ursuline #ursulinesisters #religiouslife #consecratedlife #conventlife #writings #motivation #happy #happiness #panggilanhidup #hidupmembiara #thoughts #faith #feelings #blogger #instablogger #art #katolikindonesia #susterkatolik #prayforsrilanka

[restlessnotbrave]

I know two things. Men are disappointing. I'm going to become a nun.

[lighttheflame]

Sr (while reading a news story): pound RIP...

Me: what?

Sr: pound RIP.... wait, is that what they're calling hashtag?

[wildflower8281]

Some of the Crazy Shit in #nunlife

I’m trying to understand why I’m feeling so moved to write (again!) about much of this and share it. I think the answer is 3-fold:

1.) To bring awareness to an institution that is little known and that does a few things well, but a buncha things not so greatly. Incase any friends, parents or girls considering religious life ever read this – I have been and am happy to be available to connect and share more. I’ve been doing this for years offline – just sharing the behind the scenes, so as to remove the idealistic view that this order portrays. People be free to make their own decisions, tho!

2.) For me, there is a release and a letting go that happens when I write and share it out. It’s like the energy of it all is no longer lingering in my body and mind. It’s on the laptop and it’s out in the world. While I’ve had lots of pieces of my transition on my tumblr for years and other #nunlife posts on fb before, for some reason I’m feeling moved to write this way and share now, so here I am!

3.) I think my #conventlife is also like a really good book. You can revisit it at various points in your life and see new things, take in new messages, read the nuances even further. It’s pretty fascinating to me, so I enjoy revisiting, looking at parts from new perspectives, and allowing new lessons and wisdoms to appear for me.

(Below, basketball games and birthday celebrations with some of our very favorite youth and families.) 

In my last post, I shared a lot of what life in Spanish Harlem was like, as a missionary sister, living day to day. Pretty basic nun stuff, even if it was new to readers. Here I’m going to follow-up with some events during my 4 years in San Pablo that I have a love/hate relationship with. I love them because I’m pretty sure without them taking place, I may never have left (and leaving has been all things awesome, so!)….and I hate them because they were truly some of the most difficult, exhausting, dark years of my life on all levels. Looking back, I’m pretty confident it was the Universe going: “Here – you are getting the intensive course on burnout…Imma send you a legit crazy (1 definite, a few mas or menos) and make you literally in charge of everything…for 2+ years. Then, you’ll die, want to leave and get on with your life.” 

I think like any people-pleaser, like anyone who can’t say no, like anyone who knows not their own voice – my story is no different, with the exception that I was wearing a bright blue habit and a veil. The rules were a little more dramatic – to say no, was saying no to God….and quitting was quite literally scandalous….but still, same structure. I think we all have our own levels of what drives us to our utter exhaustion and burnout. For me, it was a mentally ill sister and replacing another who left, with little support in either situation. This is not a complete piece about why I left – as ultimately the motivation was much more interior - but more a list of external events and circumstances that led to my utter collapse on all levels.

How To Get Girls to Leave Religious Life in 3 Easy Steps:

·         Make them Superior. Firstly, being the “superior” of nuns older than you both in religious life and real life just felt uncomfortable. Dealing with the Pastor without having any mission experience was also highly uncomfortable, and it didn’t help that he was the most stoic priest ever and only spoke when necessary. It was annoying and scary at first. (After getting to know him over the years, however, that eased up & I learned he was like a really big-hearted Uncle, who had drank the Stoic Koolaid. It’s cool. I admire him for many things still to this day. He has actually since left the order, but is still a priest!) Being sent to Harlem as superior was like this: “Here, be in charge of all operations in this place you’ve never been to, and be in charge of these people who have been here longer than you.” It was just annoying and stressful!!! That’s what I got for being responsible & docile. Of course, I looked to the sisters who had been there longer for most of my answers in those first years. I knew how to be humble, yo! But still – I really didn’t enjoy being the Superior.. Training was joke – barely a week. It’s “the missionary adventure!” they said. “Trust the Holy Spirit!” they said! “Grace will provide!” they said!  #Koolaid, I say, to help the cray go down easier.

·         Send them a Crazy. My 2nd year there, the Provincial Superior decided to send me a “troubled” sister. Due to my “calm and peaceful nature” she thought I could handle this sister and would be a good superior for her and that I should really try to bond with her, so that she would trust me & get better, etc. This sister was notorious for her emotional outbursts & instability and for having been shipped from convent to convent, because of the trouble she caused....

 Long, long story short-ish – she ended up having Borderline Personality Disorder, which we discovered during her stint in Harlem. (Before I go any further, please know I take mental illness very seriously. If there is any circumstance that made me realize it’s a very serious thing, it would be the one I am describing here. It’s no joke, it’s not her fault, but many versions of BPD do require intense programs to really get anywhere. I learned and read a shit-ton about it all, not to mention lived it on a daily basis in a very intimate way. I am in no way here blaming this sister for her antics, as clearly the #ssvm is to blame for not responsibly providing her the care she clearly needed.) She was officially diagnosed by a psychiatrist and it was recommended by him (note, a doctor who specialized in treating catholic religious….) that she be put into an intensive treatment program – like a 3-4 day a week program. It was also suggested that she go home to Argentina until she was well, or just for good. Well, the order carried out none of the recommendations of the doctors blaming money constraints and also because “the sick are our chalices” – a brainwashy line in our rulebook to make us think it’s virtuous and saintly to care for every member who is sick in any way, and never send them home. Keeping them with us and taking care of them is like making spiritual bank, basically. So, she stayed in our convent for 2+ years, basically causing unrest on a weekly and, often daily basis. Personally, it was emotionally exhausting for me, as I was the person closest to her & obliged always to care for her (the rest of the sisters basically avoided her and walked on egg-shells around her.) If you know anything about this mental illness, you know that it’s the people closest to them that they manipulate, abuse and have a love/hate relationship with. I think I went to more doctors appointments with her in those 2 years, than ever in my life – every specialist of every kind, there was always something. Basically anything to get my attention. Days when she would cry for hours on end, lock herself in the bathroom, bang her head against the wall, threaten suicide, be totally rebellious….and most of these situations, it was just me and her in the convent. Everyone else was out doing their things in the parish, but I was stuck at home, dealing with her. Despite that though, she found a way to piss off, provoke and drive all my sisters crazy. People with this mental illness are very emotionally savvy and know exactly what to say to provoke and push buttons. The sisters fell for it over and over again, until they finally learned & paid her no mind, which is what she could not stand. Same with me. This is how I learned to not engage. It’s been one of the wisest practices of my life & has saved me a lot of bullshit. The provincial superior, no matter how many things I shared with either of them (there were 2 during my 4 years in Harlem,) never did much to actually help me. It took my spiritual director (priest) to ask the provincial superior to remove this sister from our convent, for my sanity. Did I mention that I was sent with her to Argentina to visit a special doctor?! This was the last straw for me. I ended up cutting my part of the trip short, and flew home alone from Buenos Aires to New York, because she was absolutely nuts and if I stayed any longer, I was going to lose my mind. After that trip is when I asked Father to beg to have her removed from my care and from my convent.  It was emotional and mental manipulation at its best by her, who was ill, and then to feel that my own superiors and order would not remove this situation from not only me, who also had anywhere from 3-5 other sisters to be present to, but would not remove the situation from our house, where it affected the peace and happiness of our convent community.  I am positive it was this situation in particular that really began breaking my circuits. One at a time, the breakers were being flicked off. My brain had less and less mental energy to make decisions. I stopped caring about anything…

·         Add Work, Remove Support. My 3rd year there (still with Sister Borderline), one of our mainstay sisters (the bitchy one) had not gotten laid yet, but had to go back to Argentina to help her mother. She ended up staying there for an entire year and no replacement was sent my way for her. I was asked to take over her parish duties, which was basically a full time job. She was the Director of Religious Education of our huge bilingual program – over 400 students, half on Saturday in Spanish, the rest on Sunday in English. It was a huge beast of a job (like in other parishes, is a regular paid FT job) that I was tasked with, with minimal help. The provincial house sent me 1 sister for a few hours a week to help me, but that was it. This job entailed not only weekend classes, but catechist formation classes (teaching adults how to teach and about the faith) and a ton of reception of the Sacraments, like coordinating hundreds of parents, sponsors and students for Baptisms, 1st Communions and Confirmations with the Bishop and all that insanity. I asked for another full time sister – someone who could really take over and was not given any more help than a few hours a week. Plus, I was still the provincial liturgist, having girls visit our convent, and doing all the things I originally had to do in the parish and as a superior. I was relieved of nothing, just tossed a full time job on top. So, at home I was being driven utterly insane (oh, and of course she was jealous that I was at the parish so much more, so of course she would have bouts of emergency illness, random piercing pains, etc, anything to get me to come back home and check her out, give her attention, make an emergency doctor visit, etc.) and at work, I was overloaded, but expected by Father and the parishoners to keep everything status quo. Not to mention the people of the parish obviously had no idea about the stressor of Sister Borderline and Father knew only minimal information and really didn’t care. He needed shit to get done in his parish and he didn’t care about an angry, whiney, emotional nun in the convent who didn’t work in his parish anyway. Nice set up, huh?

I mean – is it no wonder I left, I don’t like responsibility and I don’t like people?

Is it no wonder I can spot the red flags of people’s bullshit a mile away and be like #talktothehand. Peace.

Is it no wonder I aim to keep my lifestyle simple, free and lighthearted?

Is it no wonder I never want my work or job to become my life?

Is it no wonder that I go crazy when I see people who just don’t say no, and let people or organizations bulldoze over them?

Is it no wonder I never want to be in charge of shit, plan events or do someone else’s work?!

 (Below, amazing youth at my farewell party...I was sent to the mission in Avondale, PA in July 2011 to be a regular sister and take a breather. This breather allowed me to realize and accept it was time for me to go home. Story for another day! Far right is now a NYPD!)

So, like I said at the beginning, it’s a love/hate relationship with these aforementioned circumstances. They totally sucked and at the same time, taught me so many lessons and infused me with loads of insight that I use daily. This is why the children, youth and families of Harlem are my absolute faves – in order to escape the stress and heaviness and utter out-of-controlness of my life, I would just go and hang with them. Laugh with them, eat and play with them. They helped ground me, allowed me to breathe and just always loved on me. And they still do to this day.

How interesting that my own religious family would not support me in these circumstances, and does not see me (or many of us who have left) as family even today? Yet the people of San Pablo always did and still do. I have real friendships with the people I met in Harlem, literally to this day. And when I go back to NY, I visit them. And yet, with the exception of 1 human, no one from the ive or the ssvm would consider me family today. #whoislivingthegospel? #irony

I’m not throwing shade….well, ok, maybe I am, ha! Sometimes, shade’s gotta be thrown, yo! #truth

[carmeldcj]

Als je mode niet in de winkel te krijgen is... #diys #makingfashion #nunslife #conventlife https://www.instagram.com/p/B4F1_L-JQ-p/?igshid=f9htt6u56qvo

[nun-to-be-blog]

[0416]

"There was in him no stately bearing to make us look at him, nor appearance that would attract us to him. He was spurned and avoided by people, a man of suffering, accustomed to infirmity, one of those from whom people hide their faces, spurned, and we held him in no esteem. Yet it was our infirmities that he bore, our sufferings that he endured, while we thought of him as stricken, as one smitten by God and afflicted. But he was pierced for our offenses, crushed for our sins; upon him was the chastisement that makes us whole, by his stripes we were healed. We had all gone astray like sheep, each following his own way; but the LORD laid upon him the guilt of us all.

Though he was harshly treated, he submitted and opened not his mouth; like a lamb led to the slaughter or a sheep before the shearers, he was silent and opened not his mouth. Oppressed and condemned, he was taken away, and who would have thought any more of his destiny? When he was cut off from the land of the living, and smitten for the sin of his people, a grave was assigned him among the wicked and a burial place with evildoers, though he had done no wrong nor spoken any falsehood.

But the LORD was pleased to crush him in infirmity." (Isaiah 53:2-9)

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Lately I encountered a new kind of problem in responding His call to become a nun. Another fear within me that I have to overcome. Oh God why is it so hard to become a nun? Huh, I yelled at Him for giving me a big rock blocking my way.

Yet God never leaves me alone and always provides an answer to all my questions. He gently touches my heart with today's first reading. I was once betrayed, isolated, avoided, and gossiped. It seems that my cross is just too hard and heavy. But then I realize something. His Cross was much much bigger than mine. He had to suffer for the sake of the world so the world can see and live within His light. He endured all the pain because He knew that He loves us so much and He wants to do something for us, that is to redeem the sins and darkness of the world. He was once betrayed, avoided, whipped, tortured, and even condemned to DEATH, just like me, but He didn't complain. He is so pure, He never commited a sin nor did anything against Father's will. Of course He was afraid seeing the whole thing that He had to face in the next day, there in the Gethsemane, but there was only one thing in His mind. I love the world and I will do everything to save the world.

And then I look at myself. How sinful I am. How naughty I am. I dare to commit lots of sins in front of Him who had loved me since the first day I was born. I dare to go against Him. I consciously torture Him, whip His back, put a crown of thorn on His head, take Him away, and crucify Him, over and over again, 24 hours non stop. He must be reaIly sad looking at me. It really pierces His heart into pieces, even worse than the nail that pierced His palms. With all the sins I have, how can I complain that my cross is too big for me to bear? How can I cry to Him for not giving me another burden to my shoulder?

Above all, He suffered it all. He bore the Cross without even complaining why He had to bear one although He didn't have any sin. And me, here, complaining, crying, and commiting lots of sins at the same time, all day long.

He spoke within my heart, saying that bearing a cross is perfectly NORMAL for anybody who wishes to follow Him. In fact, bearing a cross has to be an honour for you've taken a part within Him. I've walked too far with Him to become a nun and it's such as shame if I quit, isn't it? I have a promise that has to be fulfilled, a promise to Him that I will offer my whole life just for Him before and after I become a nun. I've said to myself earlier that nothing gonna stops me from becoming a nun, even the biggest storm or the heaviest rock! And yes, it's clear that I have no reason to give up His call upon me! After all, He's the God of suffering. He hears every cry and feels every pain of every human being including me. There's nothing I should be afraid of. Truly nothing. Even that fear within me that I said I want to overcome. Hmm suddenly that big rock seems to be just a small rock for me lol😋😂.

So, another note to self. Dare to take up your cross and walk with Him. Particulary for those who are discerning to be a nun, just believe that He will teach you all the things needed to follow Him. He will walk with you, never gonna let you walk alone. He who calls you will accompany and love you continuously until the end. Remember that no cross is too heavy for you to bear, no ocean is too deep for you to dive, and no mountain is too high for you to climb. He is with you, now and always.

#catholic #catholicchurch #sisterhood #catholicnun #nunsrock #thoughts #dailyinspiration #personalblog #diary #deardiary #vocation #ursuline #ursulinesisters #religiouslife #consecratedlife #conventlife #writings #motivation #happy #happiness #panggilanhidup #hidupmembiara #thoughts #faith #feelings #blogger #instablogger #art #katolikindonesia #susterkatolik

[visionvocationguide]

#Repost @dominican_sisters ・・・ A day in the life... Attempt #2 - success! 👊 #summercleaning #conventlife #instanun #nunsrock

[lighttheflame]

testing out skype with the housemates. we're practicing....this is hilarious.

[wildflower8281]

#nunlife

A lot of people ask me what #nunlife was like and why I left. So I’m answering some of that here in various parts because #nunlife is so multi-faceted, happens in steps and in 8 years I experienced many sides of it! Also, the reasons why I left deserve some space, thought and clarity. 😊 While I do get saucy in various parts because lots of my #nunlife was kinda cray, I also would not change my time in the convent because it has brought me to where I am now, a space and a life that is full and bright. So even though I call out some of the bullshit antics here and in other places I’ve written, I also still hold much love for the actual humans who I grew up with there (I was age 22-30 in the convent, with many of the same) and who I know are still living that life with good intentions. Also, I know there are many former nuns who prefer not to revisit convent life or remember things, which I honor. For me, I have no problem sharing (really?!) any parts of it - the good, the bad and the ugly. And honestly, sharing has helped me to make others aware and also reap the wisdom from those years for my own life and spirit. 

Below is everything from our insane schedule, sleeping on pieces of wood to chauffeuring the priests around. Also the cool stuff like traveling to the White Mountains of New Hampshire every summer, playing volleyball and getting a new name. Oh and why the sound of a bell is semi-ptsd for me! 

In adjectives only, nun life was: fun, challenging, quiet, loud, sacrificial, routine, adventurous, exhausting, annoying, ignorant, blind, well-intended, broken and beautiful. Full of humanity, right?!

What order? I entered The Servants of the Lord & the Virgen of Matara (ssvm), they are the female branch of the larger Religious Family of the Incarnate Word, mostly a missionary catholic priesthood, originally founded in Mendoza, Argentina in 1984. (www.ive.org; www.iveamerica.org)  The order has definitely had it’s fair share of shadiness that has recently come to light, but honestly none of that had any personal, major effects on my life or leaving. The sisters were founded in 1988, marking 30 years this year (www.ssvm.org; www.ssvmusa.org) They are a catholic missionary order and so when I met the ssvm while attending Catholic U. in DC, they had only been in the states for maybe a handful of years. They only had probably 7 American sisters, most of them still in formation. I think my class was probably only the 4th or 5th class here in this province (which now includes USA, Guyana, Surinam, Mexico & Canada!) Still to this day, the Novitiate formation houses for both the men and women resides in Maryland, very close to DC.

Entering the Convent: I entered at age 22, only 9 months after graduating college. I entered the Novitiate House/Convent, where both postulants and novices lived together. Postulancy is the stage upon entrance until a girl receives her habit & religious name. At this point, that is usually a year or longer. For me, back in the early days of SSVM in this province, it was only 11 months and for some of my classmates, it was only 1-4 months. The order did not have a certain level of church approval yet (it only had local ones or something,) so we didn’t yet have to follow canonical rules, which was fine and semi-normal.

When I entered, there was a novice class already living in the house that consisted of all Americans and 1 Philipina. They were about 8. My class that followed was also 8, but we were much more diverse: 3 Americans, a pair of Pakistani twins (truth), 1 Haitan, 1 Mexican and 1 Guatemalan. Of the 8 of us, only myself and the Mexican girl eventually left. Of the novice class before me, 4 remain and 4 left. The ones who remain have been and are still in various missions all over the world such as Italy, Tunis, France, and various places across the US.  

My Religious Name: Technically now after about a year of postulancy, the sisters are given their religious names in a special, fancy ceremony and Mass. We were allowed to propose names, but also ultimately our superiors chose them for us. The name given to me was: Sr. Maria Lumen Christi, which is Latin for Sr. Mary, Light of Christ. I loved the name and really resonated with it. As all of us were named after Mary in some fashion, we went by the 2nd part, so I was Sr. Lumen, or just Lumen (as we called each other) for the next 8 years. (I still feel that my “calling” here is to Be Light, so that name still is most definitely a part of my being from all eternity.)

Novitiate Life – Koolaid Initiation: I spent about a year and ½ in this house and for the most part, it was pretty fun and I loved it. It was actually a house in a small Bowie, MD neighborhood that had been turned into a convent (which only meant that 1 room was created into a Chapel basically.) It had 4 bedrooms upstairs that were stocked with bunk beds (except for the Superior’s room,) a kitchen & dining room, a library room, a study/classroom, the chapel and a backyard where I played my first volleyball games. At our smallest, we were probably 8 or so, and at our largest in that house we were probably around 20, definitely more than allowed. The class who entered after me was large, to the point where we set up bunks in the library and in the garage that summer, until my class moved out to the Juniorate House in DC that Fall. It was community living at it’s best.

Everything in convent life was scheduled. We had a weekly schedule, divided into the days, divided into hours, marked by the bell ringer, which was an actual job. (To this day, whenever I hear a certain tone of bell, I am brought right back – it’s semi-ptsd and semi-nostalgic for me! Truly.) These years were basically learning how to live like a nun, how to live in community, as well as studying the catholic faith. A normal day in the Novitiate House might look like this:

Take a good, long look at that one! 

If anyone ever gives me shit for being slightly cray about my personal time, tell them to go live that life for 8 years and get back to me! 

Work duties consisted of various tasks to keep the house in order: cleaning, laundry, sacristy (taking care of the things in the chapel), cook (not cooking every meal, but meal planning for the house & coaching those of us who had never cooked in our lives!), librarian, liturgy (prepping all music & songs for Mass & prayer) etc. There were also sisters in charge of sports and recreational activities. There were also “drivers” – as some, but not all of us could drive. Picking and dropping of the priests for Mass  (yes, that was a thing…don’t get me started) and various other things we needed them for was a daily task.  In this house, there were only 2 showers, 1 phone line and maybe 1-2 computers. Needless to say, we all learned about community in very real ways.

While the novitiate years were mainly focused on community life and study, with some apostolic work on weekends (like teaching ccd, etc) once a sister left the novitiate, she entered the Juniorate House of Studies, where all of that only intensified & multiplied.

Below: the novitiate and juniorate houses present day. The superiors and lead sisters in these houses were girls I lived with for many years. 

Juniorate House of Studies – A Whole Lotta Crazy: A sister usually would

 spend 2-3 years here and begins her life in this house only after her first profession of temporary vows (poverty, chastity and obedience.) It was all the things above – including the hour by hour daily schedule complete with large bell ringing & everything - except everything was more – classes, responsibilities, hours awake, hours driving, cleaning, cooking for more, etc. It was meant to be a harder, more demanding lifestyle, in preparation for “missionary life.” The house was huge, there were 2-3 classes of sisters living together, usually over 20 of us, plus the superior and formators (older sisters who help the superior in various specific arenas like discipline & studies.) (Again, if ever anyone wonders why I revel in living alone…!!!!) Thankfully there were way more bathrooms and showers here, but sadly it was in SE DC, so there was not a yard to play in, but we had access to the school gym which is where we would play volleyball and basketball about once a week if we were lucky. Sleep here was less, despite the fact that work was more. We would rise at 6 I think, but usually were not in bed until 11pm. If you had to pick up Father, you were up at probably 515am. While there was still a siesta scheduled in the Juniorate, very often sisters would catch up on work or study during that hour because there was just not time enough in the day to keep ahead of the game. While it sounds like nun-studies might be an eye roll, the order is actually super academic and takes studies very seriously. We learned some high level philosophy, metaphysics, church history, roman history, not to mention Latin, Spanish and Italian studies. A shit ton of church documents, papal letters, names, dates, etc. It wasn’t just make sure you know the Saints and the 10 commandments. This order knows their Catholic doctrine, history and all of the Church documents really intensely. So, classes, studying and exams were very real and for some caused a great deal of stress.

Despite the demanding schedule and responsibilities, these years were probably the most fun and enjoyable for me, because I was not in charge and didn’t have enough time to realize how much I naturally disliked a lot of people and a lot of movement, ha! I was too busy people pleasing and trying to be a good, docile, generous nun! But honestly, a lot of us were around the same age – 18 to early 30s – and generally had a great time together. There were a shit ton of cultural differences that we all were challenged by and eventually learned to honor, as they all made us more open and wiser. Meals together, sports, road trips to other convents or shrines or holy sites, recreation and games, and religious feasts and celebrations were usually joyful & lively, with an abundance of good food, guitar playing and lots of songs. We celebrated the various represented cultures with feasts of ethnic food, drinks, music and ceremonies. Every summer, we would drive up to the White Mountains of New Hampshire for vacation. We would spend a month hiking those awesome mountains, swimming in lakes, camping, playing volleyball, barbecuing and singing around the campfires. Those were also pretty amazing times, despite the on-the-go routine and lack of sleep!

Things to notice about these years: the young ages, the lack of free unstructured time, the lack of sleep, the dozens of hours being taught by a superior or priest (read: Koolaid,) the lack of time alone, catering to the priests…Anyone who knows me, knows that I do think the life was and is a cult...I just never noticed it until years later. (Still wouldn’t change it though! lol!)

Deny Thyself: Penances, YAY!

Some things that are rarely brought up in conversations about #conventlife are the physical penances. As most people know, Catholics practice various forms of penance. Our order was and is very old school, orthodox Catholic and so the physical penances were very much a part of the spirituality and practice. This may be new or surprising or crazy to you, but for us it was pretty freaking normal and eventually not a big deal. I understand if you read this and think that we were like trying to live in the 1500s. It was like that sometimes!

o   Fasting: every Friday of the year (except a few) it was encouraged to fast until dinner. This was always optional. There were all kinds of ways to fast, including removing sugar or milk from coffee, only eating bread or fruit, etc. There were a zillion ways to deny the palate & appetite and we were allowed to do whatever worked for us.  

o   Hair shirt: this was introduced in the Juniorate and we could wear it in accordance with what our spiritual director allowed. It was basically a lightweight chainlink belt that we wore around our waist, under our habit, as a penance – to remind us that we are sinners, or to remind us ‘what Christ suffered for our sins.’

o   Self-flagellation: also a thing! In the juniorate, we were given a medium sized whip made of rope, I don’t remember the name. At least once a week, we would perform community self-flagellation, on our knees, at night before we all went to sleep, usually to the duration of a decade of the Rosary (a few minutes.) This may have increased during Lent, like 1 extra day a week. Since it was an obvious thing, it wasn’t easy to do it secretly. I’m sure many of us also performed this penance during silent retreat weeks and months.

o   Sleeping on Wood: I discovered this option for penance at a visit to a NY convent, when I was still in the Juniorate. Girls would elect to remove their mattress and use a similar size piece of plywood to sleep on. I asked to do this my last year in the Juniorate and slept this way my 4 years in Harlem.

These are just the main forms I remember, and only physical penances. There were a zillion other ways we learned to “deny ourselves” throughout the day mentally, emotionally, etc. But I thought the physical was worth noting since I would guess most folks don’t think these types of penances still exist, except in some strict monastic convents maybe. Well, they do!

And on that fun note, I will end this post! 

Up next: Sent to Spanish Harlem!

[christolan]

DeadDrops -pretty amazing idea. . . completely off the grid file sharing.

[carmeldcj]

Ik ga op reis en neem mee... Gemaakt op een dag dat het nog zonnig was 😎 #conventlife #conventdog https://www.instagram.com/p/B3RcyYcIunD/?igshid=maal6j1sm2u2