THE ORDER OF THE HOLY MOTHER OF GOD – SWITZERLAND
My sisters are restless, but for some reason I am calm. Which in itself is surprising because of all of us, I am the one who worries the most. But not this time.
My gaze flickers to the barred window. Large enough to reveal the outside world but small enough to ensure protection from what’s out there.
“I don’t like it.” Alice’s voice sounds strained, as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders, and Tiffany sighs.
“It’s probably nothing. Sister Agatha Maria has always been dramatic, and this is a moment of her at her finest.”
I disagree, but I tuck my thoughts away in that special place in my mind. The one where I guard them like a secret diary to drag out and ponder later in private.
A movement outside the window diverts my attention,and despite myself, I allow myself a lingering gaze at the vision outside it.
The young gardener is pushing a wheelbarrow across the square. The sun beating down on his brown, muscled arms that always causes a shiver of forbidden delight to pass through me.
These wicked thoughts are my personal cross to bear because desire is forbidden, and I am ashamed at my lack of restraint.
My hungry eyes follow him, and only my sister’s agonized voice drags me back from the abyss of hell.
“Well. I’m hoping it’s moving the date forward. I am so ready to take the oath and become a fully prayed-up member of the Order of the Holy Mother of God.”
Tiffany’s words are said in the right order, but I detect the quiver in her voice, and I wonder if she is lying to herself.
The wheelbarrow disappears around the corner, and I sigh inwardly, on the one hand grateful that temptation has been removed, and yet sad that the moment has vanished like dew on the grass on a hot day.
Pleasure is fleeting inside this sanctuary. Evil thoughts are banished by prayer and replaced with a strong sense of duty. The only desire nurtured here is the one of prayer and fulfillment, and the outside world is held back by the iron bars to keep temptation away.
It crosses my mind that the gardener was a surprising choice when selecting workers to tend the impeccable grounds. There are only two men who work here; most of the work is carried out by the sisters. However, even we can admit that sometimes a man’s strength is required, and the gardener is one of them.
The other is a surly man who works as a handyman andglowers at the sisters as if they personally affront him. I wonder about him, but I fantasize about the gardener, and once again my prayers will be full of contrition as I beg for forgiveness from my sinful imagination as I kneel before the only man I should ever allow into my thoughts.
“It’s time.”
Tiffany sounds worried, and I wonder about that. Of all of us, she is the one who delights in this world. Her dedication to the order is admirable, and I doubt she has an evil thought in her head.
“We should go.” Alice’s voice shakes, and I note that she doesn’t move. It’s almost as if her body is rebelling against her confident tone.
With a regretful glance to the outside world, I stand, injecting a surety into my voice that doesn’t belong there. Masking my thoughts, a skill I have mastered well over the years — I say with confidence, “We can’t be late.”
Tiffany stands, and Alice nods, joining us as we move to the heavy iron door, our habits dusting the ground as we walk.
As one, we pull our hoods over our heads and, as always, it’s a welcome place to hide because as I start the short journey to Sister Agatha Maria’s office, I’m surprised to find I am dragging a heavy heart behind me.
The convent is quiet.As we edge down the dark hallway toward the sister’s office, my heart thumps with every tread I take.
The sound of our breathing is the only noise, and I wonder what is running through my sister’s minds right now.
We should be excited, ecstatic even, because we have been waiting for this opportunity to devote our lives to God and one another.
But something is missing.
The nagging thought that has haunted my dreams and occupied my mind is like an unspoken statement between us. I feel it, and I’m aware that they do too, but none of us wants to be the one to allow doubt to creep into our plans.
This is what we talked about for many months when we were banished to boarding school. It was the solution to our problem, but as the hour approached, I’m not certain it was the right decision.
Our footsteps are silent as we almost glide along the polished wooden floor.
My sisters remain locked in their own thoughts, and I’m guessing they are as unsure as I am.
