Chapter 13: Chapter 13
The air and time of Saint Luke’s Convent moved differently. And to Martha, it was ponderous and slow. The convent was entirely a strange, new world. The life at the convent was uninteresting. It was boring as beans. The nuns’ lives were regimented and overly quiet. Everything they did follow a set of laid down rules. The activities of the convent were boringly and worryingly mind-numbing. They were a set of routine.
Martha’s life at the convent was extremely different from the world she had lived and was accustomed to. Her life before now was fast-paced, unpredictable and carefree. The convent’s air of predictability bored her. Every day, she did the same things: sleeping late at night and waking early in the morning, with the irritating bell tolling and rousing her from a beautiful dream. Then she would watch the nuns rise from their beds, and paced about the place, washing their mouth and bathing in the cold, in readiness for the morning Mass and the prayers at the chapel. She joined them and did everything they did grudgingly. And most times, she lumbered after them to the Chapel in a half-sleep. The prayers at the chapel irked her too. They were boringly long. And worst still, they seemed endless. The prayer method was never different. It was always the same: fondling of rosary, counting of beads, and singing of hymns and psalms. Then a long study and a fleeting nap; always followed another long night study, a midnight prayer, and then bedtime. The next day followed the same fashion, with the stifling haze coiling in the damp air at night. Where was the excitement and life outside this asceticism? Everything at the convent bored, dulled and dampened Martha’s spirits. They hewed and ripped her asunder.
She was still feeling nostalgic and missing home. And of course, the life that was out there. Most nights she cried herself to sleep, and wished the life she was living was the road not taken. It was clear to her that the road was slippery and meandering, and walled with many creepers, stumps and underbrush. And, because loneliness remembers what happiness tends to forget, her mind always wandered to Morris and Jessie. And each time she thought about them, she wondered what Jessie would be doing at home. Would she be playing a video game, or attending a friend’s birthday party? Was she seeing the latest movie, or reading one of her several bodice rippers? What about Morris? Was he playing and jumping up and down the sofa like he always did? There were many exciting things out there, but they were none of them at the convent. The convent was a sheltered and cloistered wall. Its world was different. It revolved around itself. It knew little about the happenings in the world across its secured walls.
Yet as sad and disillusioned as Martha was, Reverend Grace lived up to her promise. She showered Martha with kindness and love. She took her as her daughter. She promised Martha she would do all in her might to help her leave behind the life of the secular world. Martha was still at the candidacy stage – which was the formation stage − and Reverend Grace told her it was how she would perform that would determine how quickly she would move to the next stage – the novitiate stage. But while she was still at the candidacy stage, it was the time for her to determine whether she had the aptitude for religious life. A candidate was expected to bring the rich experience of her life and live with a community of Sisters. She would share prayers, household responsibilities and enjoy meals together with other nuns. Reverend Grace promised her she would soon begin to work in one of the ministries sponsored by the community. There, she would be allowed to put her unique talents to good use. She would be given the time for spiritual development, retreats and workshops, while she would also have the chance to travel for community events. But most importantly, she would be given the guidance in the methods of prayer, which would broaden and sharpen her understanding of God and others in the world.
Everything sounded great and exciting to Reverend Grace, but cold and boring to Martha. She only nodded her head and feigned a happy smile when Reverend Grace finished. In her heart she knew she was lukewarm and uncommitted to the duty of a nun. But Reverend Grace was unable to see through her pain and disenchantment. Perhaps it was so because as Miriam always said: ‘It’s only the heart that understands its own grief; and no stranger can share in its joy.’