If you haven't read it already, start with Part 1.
A little
St. Louis Trivia: If you spend any length of time in this city, it is guaranteed that sooner or later (probably sooner) someone will ask you this question: "So, where'd you go to high school?"
Everyone here asks this question.
I've asked this question, numerous times! I've even asked it of people not from St. Louis, without thinking. We are obsessed with high school here. I don't know the whole reason for this, but I imagine that a big part of it has to do with our large number of private Catholic high schools. There are 25 in the metropolitan area (not including the several more in outlying counties) and St. Louis is not a particularly large city.
I started off with this bit of trivia for the benefit of any readers not from St. Louis so you would understand that in this town, attending private Catholic school is far from unusual or privileged, as it might be in other parts of the country. In fact, considering my parents had severe money problems, it should be surprising that they would send me to a private school. But Catholic parents around here really do make it a top priority, and my parents were no different. I don't think I am even aware of how much they struggled to pay for my school, or how much the school must have helped. (And in answer to the St. Louisans reading this - I went to Cor Jesu Academy.)
So...to the point. My time in high school. When I started high school, as I mentioned before, I was a functional mess of insecurity and bitterness. But I made friends with some great girls who, like me, were more interested in music and books and painting our nails black than in shopping at the mall or being popular. We went to concerts almost every weekend, and I don't know how we afforded it. I had a whole lot of fun with these girls, but inside I was also completely terrified and insecure a good deal of the time. My inner thought life consisted mostly of either berating myself for being fat, ugly and worthless, or revenge fantasies where I would become rich and beautiful and cool beyond belief, thus making everyone insanely jealous of me. I was sarcastic, judgmental of girls who were "preppy" and self-centered. A typical teenager, probably, but still very unpleasant and unhappy!
One of my best friends had gotten involved with her Catholic parish
Life Teen youth group. She began to encourage me and a couple of our other friends to go on a retreat they were having. I could not think of anything less appealing. Catholicism was about as relevant to me as the city sewer system - foundational to the infrastructure around me, yet without any impact on me personally. And the thought of going away for the weekend with new people, especially
West County people, was thoroughly alarming. But somehow or other, my friend managed to convince me, and so I went on the retreat.
I was immediately drawn to the youth minister, as well as to some of the other teenagers who were funny and friendly and not at all what I expected. The first day or so of the retreat went by without affecting me very deeply, but I was kind of enjoying myself. But then, on the second night of the retreat, the youth minister led us in an extended time of charismatic prayer. We sat in dark chapel as the youth minister preached an impassioned message of Jesus' intense love for us. I don't remember the full content of what he said, but I remember sitting in the pew, perplexed and nervous. Then, with worship music playing in the background, the teenagers around me began to worship - some singing and crying out loud to Jesus with arms raised, some prostrating on the floor, some huddled in small groups praying together. The youth minister and other leaders were praying over teens, many of whom were being
slain in the spirit. At first, I was completely baffled and frightened by what was going on around me. This looked like a cult, and
nothing like Catholicism as I had known it.
And then, after maybe 30 or 40 minutes, something came over me that was not of my own doing or my own choice. I was overcome with love for God, and the awareness of being loved by Him. The realization that I needed a Savior to forgive my sins overwhelmed me. Without knowing what I was doing, I found myself in the aisle, on my knees, sobbing uncontrollably. After praying and weeping like this for I have no idea how long, I went up to the youth minister to have him pray over me. As he did so I felt my legs give way. He laid me down, and I was completely still. I was fully awake and aware, but I also felt completely peaceful and my mind was at rest. I have no idea how long I lay there. (FYI - I have since had doubts and questions now about the nature of this spiritual experience, whether it was really the Holy Spirit or just the arousal of emotions by a charismatic leader. I don't know the answer to that, but that is another topic for another time.)
When the stillness passed and I came to myself, I immediately went to Confession and poured out my sins to the priest. The entire night of prayer must have lasted at least 3 or 4 hours, if I remember correctly.
From that moment on, my life has never been the same as it was before. I still struggled with the same insecurities, the bitterness, the jealousy, the lust, and all the other darkness inside of me. But the darkness was lessened, as a new light of hope had started to grow inside of me.
I immediately began going to church every Sunday night and prayer group every Wednesday night with this youth group. I made some great friends, including one guy who I would come to consider my best friend. A lot of healing and confidence-building began during that time. I began reading lots of books on the Catholic faith, listening to Christian music (although I thought most of it was lame...because it was), and praying to God all day and every night. I genuinely struggled against the sins in my life, though often with not much success. I still did some things which I regret terribly to this day. But my parents did see a tremendous change in me, which honestly scared them at first. Over time, my dad realized I hadn't been brainwashed into joining a freaky cult, and my mom's Catholic faith was eventually reanimated as well.
After being part of this youth group for a couple of years, there was one particular prayer night devoted to religious vocations in the church, i.e. becoming a priest, a monk or a nun. I have never ever given a single thought to becoming a nun in my whole life. Not even as a joke. But that night, once again with no decision or input from me, the idea was just suddenly placed in my head and my heart that I was supposed to become a nun.
Nothing could have been more shocking to my parents, friends or teachers. Or to myself, for that matter. The girl with green hair and punk t-shirts wants to become a nun? The girl who does so well in school and has always had the ambition to go to one of the top schools in the country? The girl who, despite her awkwardness and fears, was as totally boy-crazy as the next teenaged girl? Yep, that girl, apparently.
It just felt completely right to me. So I began seriously looking at communities of nuns, and praying with my youth group about this on a regular basis. The spring after my 16th birthday, I went on a retreat at a convent and almost right away, I felt like I had found my home. That is the only way I can describe it. I was enamored with the silence, the prayer, the reverence, and the nuns themselves. I was tired of trying to follow God in a world that seemed set up to make us reject Him, and so I wanted to devote my whole life to Him. That very weekend, I started the paper work with the intention of joining the community after graduating from high school.
With two years to go, I continued living the normal life of a teenager, including dating and school and parties and doing things I should not have done. I remained extremely active in my youth group, which had grown to include between 200 and 300 teenagers. (The honeymoon-period had ended for me with youth group, and I actually began to have serious issues with it, but that too is a post for another day.) I continued to do extremely well in school, such that acceptance into a good college seemed like an inevitability. But throughout it all, I remained steadfast in my determination to become a nun. I visited the nuns a few times a year, and even started working at the preschool they ran. Despite the incredible improbability of a girl living in this culture, my academic success, the bewilderment of my father, and the tears and pleadings of an ex-boyfriend and a few friends, I entered the convent on December 28, 1999, four days after my 18th birthday.
(
A note to my friends IRL: I am thinking that for some of you, this may be the first time you have heard about this aspect of my life. For years I never talked about this, and so I am not sure who knows about it and who doesn't. If this is news to you, please don't have hurt feelings that I kept something from you. As will be made clear, my time in the convent is not an easy thing for me to talk about. xo)
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