Farewell.

Well, it's come.  This has been quite the adventure, hasn't it?  I've "met" so many amazing people and learned so much from blogging.  I've let out the things whirling through my brain, and you've appreciated them.  So many of you have appreciated them.  Thank you for that.  Thanks for reading this little blog, thanks for your prayers, and thanks for your encouragement.  Thanks for existing.

I'm not very eloquent with good-byes.  I don't enjoy them and I don't like them to be prolonged.  So I haven't much to say, except thank you and goodbye.  I will be praying for you.  God bless you all.


In Christ,

Soon-to-be-Sr. Victoria

I was going to take a picture of myself waving goodbye, but I didn't, so this will have to do.

"So, when did you first decide that you wanted to be a nun?"

People ask me this all the time.  Those more in tune with the whole process also ask me what my discernment process was like, how long it took, and similar questions.  I love all of them -- to anyone who ever asked me something about becoming a Sister, thank you.  I get excited for every opportunity to talk about it. 

In view of that, I have typed up the whole story of my experiences thus far, for your reading pleasure and hopefully edification at the goodness of God to one little insignificant, very imperfect girl.  This will also be my second-to-last post -- I will do one more, tonight or tomorrow, saying goodbye.  And then that's it! 

Oh yeah, and still nobody has told me that I need to delete anything, so it seems like this blog will be staying around.  (I just obviously won't be updating it.)

Okay.  Now for the "autobiography."  If something is vague, by the way, it was done on purpose.  I can't reveal all my life to the internet.



I've wanted to be a nun since I was very small: six years old, to be exact.
It is no coincidence that this happened in the same year my family stopped going to the Novus Ordo: you may roll your eyes, but I know that had much to do with it.  My mother bought me a children's life of St. Therese that Christmas, and that year or the next we read a life of St. Margaret Mary as our bedtime story-book.  I guess my vocation (if vocation it truly be) came through them.  St. Therese taught me the beauty of religious life; St. Margaret Mary taught me about its suffering.  After that I devoured every saint-book I could find, especially the ones about nuns: St. Catherine of Siena, St. Rose of Lima, St. Catherine Laboure, and many more.

I continued in this sort of daydreaming desire to become a Sister for many years, until my family left Germany, where we had been living, and returned to the US, where we lived on an Army base in KS.  There were tons of other kids to play with (none of which were religious in any way), and I was nearing my teens by that point, so I sort of stopped thinking about being a nun.  It wasn't that I decided I didn't want to be a nun, but just that I was surrounded by a secular culture which simply could not stop discussing who liked whom and what they would do when they started dating, and I was immersed in it.  This state began at age ten and was pretty bad for the next two or three years.  After that, I sort of "allowed" the possibility of entering religious life back into my mind, but I still didn't take it seriously.

  Finally, one Sunday when I was fifteen, maybe sixteen, a group of Dominican Sisters showed up unexpectedly at our church.  They gave a presentation on their life after Mass, and my parents stayed (a bit of a sacrifice: we had a long drive home) until it was over.  I remember looking at the slides while the Sister spoke, and my eyes filling up a bit.  This was what I wanted.  Nothing else would do.  I fiddled around for months, and then eventually I contacted the Dominicans' Mother Superior and discussed things.  They were in New Zealand, which I admit added significantly to the attraction.  I emailed Mother Superior back and forth for a few more months, and then, having concerns about a certain policy, asked the proverbial wrong question.  She never wrote back.  I was disappointed and a little bitter.  So finally, one day I talked to one of our priests about it.  He told me that if it didn't work out, it was obviously because God didn't want it, and that for all I knew, He may have saved me much more heartache than I had presently to deal with.  That really helped me, and I waited fairly patiently for something else to happen.

Just over a year ago, finally things got moving again.  My good friend Victoria invited me to come with her to a retreat given by the Daughters of Mary in NY.  My parents gave permission, I went, and instantly I fell in love with all of it.  But of course, it wasn't half as easy as I had expected.  Again there was a policy that caused trouble, but it was a lot worse this time, and I struggled for about seven months to bring myself in line with the group's opinions.  In that time, I spent a week at the convent, and loved it even more.  I was determined to overcome the issue.  So eventually I convinced myself that I agreed with the policy, and was allowed to proceed.  I started getting everything together, filled out papers, had a physical.  Most importantly, I had to finish highschool, because my diploma was a required part of the application papers.  I spent about two months frantically writing papers and crying half-heartedly over how impossible it was, drinking tea, and taking tests with little preparation.  I finished about six months' worth of French II lessons in one month.  I'm still inordinately proud of that.

So finally, by the end of July I had everything but a letter of recommendation from our priest.  I requested that, and waited impatiently.  On August 1st, the priest came to our house to talk to me and my parents.  Long story short, he convinced me of my error in ignoring the issues with the congregation I wished to join, and recommended that I wait and pray about what I should do.  So I did.  Before the conversation, I had intended to override whatever he said, but it made too much sense, and God gave me the grace to obey His Will, spoken through His servant.  I had been supposed to enter at the end of September, so I had to call the Novice Mistress and tell her that I wouldn't be coming after all.  She is a very gentle person, and she definitely made this difficult thing easier, for which I thank her.

I started looking into different congregations.  I was torn between the vita mixta, or half-contemplative, half-active way of life lived by most of the congregations I was interested in, and the more difficult to find (and difficult to live) fully contemplative life of a Carmelite.  None of my Carmelite investigations succeeded, however, so I assume it was not God's Will. 

In September, I visited the Sisters of St. Thomas Aquinas in Arizona, threatening everybody that I was going to dislike it.  I told the Sister in charge all of my problems, and she gave me some advice.  At the time I had little emotional investment in this congregation, but I decided "with my brain" that I should enter there.  Sister recommended that I enter as soon as possible, so I planned to try for the beginning of November.  I came home and told the priest, but he had other ideas.  He wanted me to visit one more convent before I made any more rash decisions.  Of course, when my plan was met with opposition, the convent in Arizona became the most desirably place on the face of the earth; but I could see that Father's plan was prudent, so I acceded with a rather bad grace and began attempting to contact a small Dominican congregation in Michigan.  Finally, with some help from Father, I got a hold of a Sister by phone, and blurted out that I was interested in their convent and could I visit and when, please, Sister?  (I was trying to get the thing over with.)  She told me that I had to write a letter and do things properly.  Annoyed, I wrote the letter and waited complainingly for an answer.  In the meantime, I contacted a wonderful group of Italian Sisters by email, and was just about ready to fly over there to visit.  When I tried to seriously plan it, though, I found that it would take too long, and when I asked the advice of the Sister in charge in Arizona, she recommended that I stay within my own country, and choose what was practical over what was exciting.  She was clearly right, and I agreed (a bit tearfully) and waited for the Dominicans' letter.  It finally came, and for a time we corresponded by snail mail -- just to find out, in the end, that they do not have visitors' accommodations and they would not be accepting postulants until  the end of August 2014.  Frustrated, I informed the priest and begged that he would allow me to dispense with this third visit.  I had found out that if I wanted to enter with the Sisters of St. Thomas Aquinas, I had to do it by the beginning of January.
Then commenced another month of waiting.  I was getting nervous, because it was almost December and I had no word from Father.  At long last, on December 6th he visited us again and granted his permission.  He added a stipulation, though: I was to visit a certain couple of Sisters in Boston, not to join, but just to "see," saying it would prove useful sometime.  I obeyed happily, not caring what I had to do as long as I could get to Arizona by January 6th.  I started buying up postulant's clothing and getting ready, and I successfully made that Boston visit...gracious, I think only two weeks ago.  I believe I learned much, though it did not go the way Father was imagining, and I gained the prayers of two very holy Sisters.  I'm sure that God organized it the way He did for a very good reason, and I am content.

Now I'm becoming a postulant, God willing, in a matter of days.  I bought the last supplies I needed a few days ago. All I have to do is give my flight information to Sister, wait three days, and say goodbye to my family.

This chapter is almost over, but the story's got plenty more chapters to go.  While I feel certain that this is my vocation, I have learned from experience that God's ways are not ours, and He may require me to leave the convent, for a different one or for the world.  If that happens, I will try to accept it, but for now, this is my path. It is more beautiful than anything else I could ever have imagined, and I am very grateful: to God, to my family, to the priests and Sisters who have guided and prayed for me, and for all of you who have prayed for me as well.  God bless you all.

via

A Thing that is Happening

I cannot think how to write this post.  I should like to put what I have to say in a way fitting to its importance and general wonderfulness, but I'm at a loss as to how to do that, so I'll just say it out.

I'm going to the convent.

Yes, at long last, it seems to be happening for real.  I obtained permission from the Voice Of Reason and Prudence (my spiritual director, as you may remember from my last post on the subject) to enter the Sisters of St. Thomas Aquinas on January 6th, Feast of Epiphany and also my parents' wedding anniversary.  This past week has been full of sorting through the accumulation of things in my room, agonizing over who should get which of my beloved books, buying many white oxford blouses, among other things, and trying to process the fact that I am almost certainly going.  One stipulation which the aforementioned Voice made when granting me permission (he is so very brilliant, that Voice) was that I visit these two Sisters who do charity work in Boston first, so on Monday I will be making yet another plane flight to yet another part of the country to visit yet another group of Sisters.  I am very lucky.  I always loved traveling, and I have been able to do quite a lot of it in this past year!  It's a nice gesture from Our Lord, I think, to let me get in so much traveling before I am consecrated to Him and bound to stay, perhaps, in the same place for the rest of my life.  (Of course, I may do more traveling as a Sister than I ever have in the world -- God likes to have His little jokes like that, making me think I'm stationary for good and then moving me all over the place.  We shall see.)

This is the church, Our Lady of the Sun, seen from the side.

As I said, I am having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that I'm going.  I'm so excited, but at the same time I'm a bit bewildered.  I have gotten quite giddy over the whole thing multiple times since permission was given, but I fully realize how serious a thing it is that I am doing.  I have a shadowy idea that really I ought not to attempt to think through it too much.  I have thought and thought and thought for over a year now, and any more thinking is sure to be unhelpful. There comes a point, you know, when the time for thinking is over, and all that's left is to do. I ought simply to relinquish myself to God and just accept whatever He drops on me. 

It's rather unbelievable that I shall be "Sr. Victoria" in a little less than a month.  My mind does a double take when I see that spelled out, it seems so unreal.  But I cannot wait.  I'm looking forward to everything -- even wearing multiple layers under the Arizonian sun.  I can't wait to be anxious that my veil's on straight, that I'm following protocol correctly, that I'm doing well in my classes.  I can't wait for Arizona's strange and foreign appearance waiting for me each morning at 6:30,  for Daily Mass, the entire Rosary, obligatory silence, and the Divine Office.

This is one of the gates to the convent building, seen from the inside.  I love the gates and the ironwork because they make is seem so much more cloister-y.

I'm going to really regret this post if something happens out of the blue and I can't make it, let me tell you -- or if I end up being sent home!  Goodness me.  Please pray for me that everything goes according to God's plan and that I'm not too severe of a trial to my superiors!

Oh yes -- and I have heard from others that sometimes one must delete her social media accounts before entering a convent, so... I may end up having to delete Sunlight and Shadow.  I don't know yet, nobody's said anything, but just so you know.  It may happen.

Happy feast of St. Lucy, by the way!

Arizona as seen from the entrance to the convent.

{Not} Learning Patience & Arizonian Adventures

Honestly, I'm writing this post because I can't think of anything more interesting to write about and it's been two weeks since my last post.  I'm nearly certain that being at a loss for something to write about is a direct result of actually having time to write.  Murphy's law and all that.

So, two months ago (has it really been that long???) I visited the Sisters of St. Thomas Aquinas near Phoenix, AZ, liked it, and talked with the Sister in charge about becoming a postulant.  I was ready to enter as soon as possible, but then my long-suffering priest (a.k.a The Voice of Reason And Prudence Who Is Always Making Victoria Do Hard Things) recommended that I wait and try one more convent before making a final decision.  So from thence I embarked on another stage in the ongoing saga of Victoria Learns Patience (except not really cause I'm still impatient) - this time, through waiting for letters from the second convent I contacted.  This process took about a month altogether, just to find out in the end that they don't have visitors' accommodations and they don't accept postulants until the end of August.  Bummer.  So now I'm waiting for the aforementioned priest-a.k.a-voice-of-reason to, in his words, "figure something out" and then inform me what the something is and how I'm going to do it.  I'm telling you, when I write my autobiography (because of course my life will be worth one) I shall call it The Waiting Game.

The convent of the Sisters of St. Thomas Aquinas - El Mirage, AZ.  (photo mine)

Incidentally, Arizona has captured something in me - I wouldn't say my heart, but definitely something in me is attracted to something about it.  Despite its extreme lack of grass and trees and clouds, I still liked it.  Perhaps it was simply because that's where the Sisters are, or even just because it's so new and completely different from anything I am used to.  I don't know.  But the two-and-a-half uncannily bright, hot days I spent there are pretty deeply seared into my imagination - pun intended.  Especially the first morning (I arrived at night), when I opened the door at fifteen minutes past six to singing birds, cactus flowers, and a strange landscape soaked in dazzlingly golden light.  (It was even better because it was early enough that it hadn't gotten hot yet.)

(also mine)

On the way back I had more plane adventures involving switched flights, a thing that was actually not a boarding pass, Victoria-caused security breaches, and sitting in Washington-Reagan airport eating Cinnabon at 10:00 P.M.  My dear readers, heed my warning: DO NOT eat Cinnabon, especially that late at night.  It will make you very sick.  I have since sworn never to eat anything from that place again.

Oh yeah, and if you're ever in the Dallas-Ft. Worth airport, do yourself a favor and get a burrito from the burrito place, the name of which, if I ever knew at all, I don't remember.  You'll know it by the fact that said burrito costs ten dollars.  But it is large and extremely delicious and will haunt your dreams for a long time afterwards.

 I cannot think of anything else to say and I have an unconquerable desire to end this post by saying "THE END" in big letters.  I am not fighting this temptation.

 THE END.

Novels and Why I Won't Write Them

I was told today that I should write a novel. I have absolutely no expectation of doing anything of the sort, but I do rather miss the thrill of writing, the feeling of a story flowing out of me and onto the page, sitting in one spot for hours and then emerging from the screen like a diver coming out of the sea. My writing is an uncertain and undirected thing, but, no matter its flaws, it can be so vivid to me that I think it actually happened. I have, while doing something completely innocuous, had an image flash through my head which I could not place, and after trying to remember for some while when it happened, realize that it was simply something I imagined for a story. 

But I cannot write a novel. I am not humble enough. I would want it to be real and fantastical, beautiful and painful, true and subtle. And if it fell short (which it inevitably would), I would give it up in frustration. I do not even know that I am capable of writing a worthless novel. My imagination is very useful for scenes and impressions, but I cannot sustain it for the length of a book. I cannot draw the reader in and capture him or her, not letting go until the last page. At least, I do not think I could. We never really know what we're capable of, do we?

I am much more comfortable with nonfiction. Nonfiction, whether it be about facts, or ideas, or feelings, is limited and safe. If I write about myself, I am limited by what I am; if I write about an event, I am limited by its duration; if I write to inform, I am limited by what I know. Fiction is an an endless expanse of nothing just waiting for someone to take some of it and craft it into a limitless variety of details and personalities and storylines. Perhaps fiction is simply a higher art than nonfiction. When God created the world, He created, in a manner of speaking, a work of fiction. That is not to say that it wasn't (and isn't) real: it's as real as anything material can be. But insofar as God created something where before there was nothing, something detailed and linear and complete, with original characters and plot and settings, He created a novel – a beautiful, terrible, fantastical fairy tale. And all the tales that came after are simply shadows of the one real story – the story that each and every one of us, from Adam to the Apocalypse, is part of. And that is why novel-writing is beyond me: it is too large and terrifying a task for my puny talents. I shall stick to writing about novels (among other things), for the present, and perhaps, in five years, or ten, or thirty, I may find myself capable. Or perhaps not, and that's all right too. Novels are not the only form of beauty we humans can create. There are so many, and we must each simply find which one is meant for us.

All images via tumblr.

In Which I Drown You In My Indifferent Graphics

You all probably know that I enjoy making graphics and that I'm not specially good at them.  Well, I've been making a ton, especially since school ended, and I do believe I've gotten a little bit better.  I thought you might like to see some of what I've done -- I know I always like to see others' graphics.  I can always learn something from them.
Oh yes -- feel free to use them, they're mostly not watermarked so credit if you like, if not I don't really care.  I never really understood the whole DON'T STEAL MY WORK thing that much.... as long as you're not selling it, why fuss?  It's just a digital image.

All my images are made with one of three photo-editors: iPiccy, PicMonkey, and Pixlr.  (Why do they always have to have rather silly names?)  They're each good for different things, so sometimes I'll use all three in one image.

First come the ones that can be used as desktop backgrounds.  I tire of desktops quickly, and so make a lot of new ones. If you use one, be aware that sometimes I don't measure the ratios right and then they're a bit too long or too short - also, mine are made for a 16:9 screen.

This was my first try-out of iPiccy, and I was quite proud of it, though I have since decided that it's not as wonderful as I at first thought.  The battle-cry of the Cristeros has always inspired me - I used to write it on the inside covers of my school notebooks, and it would make me feel very brave and ready for battle - a sentiment often necessary for the completion of math exercises -- or English essays -- or French exams. 

Despite my love of quotes, I always draw a blank when I go to make a graphic, hence the generally famous quotes I use.  I would much prefer obscure quotes, as I prefer most anything obscure, but when the time comes I never remember what I wanted to use.  I rather like this particular image, and surprisingly it took very little time.

I think a desktop for purity, strictly speaking, ought to contain more light and brightness than this does, and I couldn't find an image of a lily (symbol of purity) that worked, but other than that I am rather fond of this one.

If you couldn't tell, this image was the result of my love-affair with The Ballad of the White Horse.  The watermark is there because I posted it on Tumblr, and didn't save a non-watermarked version.
I know the stanza I chose sounds depressing, but I just love it because Our Lady gives Alfred no comfort and tells him that things are just gonna get worse, and yet he still gains strength to fight back that he didn't have before.  I haven't explained it well, but it's just such a delicious oxymoron to me, and before I read the poem, I had never thought of Christianity as journeying "gaily in the dark."  It's just a beautiful idea, and this little snippet reminds me of it when I'd rather "spell the stars/And times and triumphs mark" than be going gaily in the dark.
Perhaps I should not talk about my love-affair with this poem in the past tense.

The rest of these are not strictly desktops, though they can be used as such if you don't mind the not fitting.

 

This was the result of studying "Elegy in a Country Courtyard" and reflecting on how much wailing and keening and rolling in melancholy poets do.  "Fell in love with melancholy" indeed.  I don't know if you can even read all the quotes.  It was an exercise in trying out a slightly different style, and I'm still not sure what I think about it.

My mom wrote out this quote for me instead of giving me a lecture -- and it worked.

These words are from a poem by a Catholic author named Joseph Mary Plunkett about how everything in nature reminds him of Our Lord.  It's a beautiful poem, and this line especially caught my fancy.  One of the many pictures I have taken of the ocean from Virginia Beach and the Outer Banks worked perfectly as the backdrop.

The background in this graphic is a photo taken by me at Round Top, NY, when I visited the convent there. The quote is from the Regina Spektor song "The Call."  Another instance of me trying out a different style.

Well, I do believe that's enough for now.  If you made it to the end of this post without skimming and skipping...thank you.  If not, I totally don't blame you.

Tell me, do you have any tips for me? Questions?  General comments?  You know I'd love to hear them.

Things Learned

Having come across this post by Raewyn while lazing about reading other people's posts when I was supposed to be writing my own, I thought I'd join in on this "things learned in August" link-up, because I have learned a lot of things in August, both important and very non-important.  I am also supremely glad that it will be over tomorrow, so I'm celebrating.  Visit the original post here.

1. I was not meant to join the Daughters of Mary.  I was following my own will in pursuing it, not God's.

2.  You actually have to work to be holy, and you don't get to just choose to not be.  And you can't do anything by yourself but need God's grace if you're going to have any strength at all.  It's like expecting to have energy without ever eating.

3.  Speaking of eating, I also learned that pesto paninis are the best Friday dinner ever. All you do is put provolone, pesto, red onions, tomatoes, avocado, and red or orange bell peppers in a roll and stick it in a buttered pan or panini press until it's browned and melty and beautiful.  Then you eat it.  And it's delicious.

4.  I am super-duper unbelievably lucky to know two people who love literature at least as much as I do, and I am even more blessed to be being paid by one of them to listen to some absolutely lovely literature lectures and write about them.  It's temporary, but it's my first job and a dream job - one I never dreamed of, but a dream job nevertheless.  The other person is subjected to small bursts of email-ranting on Dickinson, Tolkien, Dickens, and the like, and far from objecting, responds in kind.

5.  Speaking of literature, I learned through the aforementioned lectures that Emily Dickinson is basically queen of the poetical universe.  She is definitely my favorite poet now.

6.  Sleeping in is way overrated.  Enough said.

7.  Bringing up authors again, one biggish thing I've learned in August is that spiritual reading is actually...not painful.  I've read a ton of religious books (partly because the only way I can make myself behave remotely well is to constantly remind myself by reading), and the most eye-opening spiritual book I've read this month was definitely The Life of Saint Teresa of Avila -- her autobiography. (Note: I have not read the version in the link and don't know if it's altered or a weird translation or anything, so don't blame me if it is.)  That book is just -- stunning.

8.  I am not cut out for being a stay-at-home daughter.  I have always been an independent person and I always told my mom I'd move out as soon as I turned eighteen.  That's not exactly happening, but I'm still joining a convent as soon as I find one, so hopefully I will still move out when I'm eighteen.  I never had any desire to be a stay-at-home daughter, and having finished school and being "almost grown-up" has just intensified that opinion. 

9.  I love English country dancing/square dancing.  I knew this already, but an impromptu, music-less lesson in the park by one of the girls from church a few weeks ago reminded me.   I don't know what it is about it, but it's so much fun.

10.  I am an autumn girl, and there's nothing I can do about it.  I was born in October, but I always insisted that I liked summer best.  And while I do like summer, it's always tainted by air conditioning and boredom and (up till now) the stress of overdue schoolwork.  The *idea* of summer is still my favorite, but in the real world, fall is best - the part that still above 45 degrees, that is.  I am looking forward to the cooler weather.

Life Lately

Well, a lot has happened in this past month, especially the last two weeks.  Thank you all for putting up with my extended absence, and thank you for the prayers!  I did finish my school in the allotted time - I took my last French test on July 31, right on schedule, and my GPA is 3.3 - which is all right, I suppose.  (It may go up when they finally add in my independent studies.)  It feels odd to be done.  Every morning I still wake up and think that I have to go down and write an English essay or an American Government research paper.

The third week in July I had a break because my dear friend Victoria came down for a week-long visit, which was lovely.  We watched low-budget syfy miniseries, ate much ice cream, had deep conversations, and even went to Busch Gardens! 

Now the biggest news.  The day after I finished school, I had a talk with our priest (who is amazing) and my parents, and we decided that I should wait for maybe a year before entering religious life.  I'm investigating other convents to visit right now, and in September I plan to visit one in Arizona - the Sisters of St. Thomas Aquinas.  I'm very excited, both because - well, nuns - and because I've never been so far west and south in the United States before.  It will be quite an adventure, God willing that it works out.  I was sad to put off entering a convent, but I think ultimately it was the right decision, and hopefully it won't be for too long!

So yes,  that's been my life lately.  Very exciting.  I shall be blogging more regularly now, since I have more time, so expect new posts again!

taking a break till August

Hullo, my dears.  I'm just popping in to say that, much as I dislike having to do it, I'm not going to be on Blogger for the rest of the month.  You see, there's this little thing called twelfth grade that has to be finished before this other little thing called MY DIPLOMA can be sent to the Sisters as part of my application.  Until that nasty little piece of paper is sent, I won't know if I'm accepted or not.  So I'm devoting this month to finishing the three subjects I have left - two quarters of English, one of American Government, and three-ish of French.  You see how impossible that is?! 

So, naturally, I'm asking you to spare a prayer or two for me that I may finish this Herculean task.  And I won't be posting till August, to take away some of the temptation.  If I were a nice, organized blogger, I would have queued posts, but I don't.  So, goodbye for a bit. 

10,000 Pageviews!

GUYS!  I just checked my stats and I just made 10,000 pageviews!  AHHH THAT'S AMAZING!  Thank you all so much for reading and for putting up with my slow postings.  *gives internet hugs*

I shall put up another post just as soon as I can think of a topic.  It'll probably be a poem, methinks.

A Long-Expected Adventure

I promised that I'd post about my visit to St. Joseph's Novitiate, so here you go.

The flying went pretty well.  I didn't get onto the wrong plane, go to the wrong terminal, or anything like that.  I ate many complimentary packages of peanuts and pretended to be a seasoned traveler who thinks no more of taking a plane than she thinks of taking a car.  It all went very smoothly on my way up until I got to Albany and discovered that there were about two feet of snow on the ground.  In my Southern ignorance I hadn't brought boots of any kind, so I went skipping through the parking lot in thin little ballet flats.  Luckily, when I got to the convent Sr. Mary Clare, the Novice Mistress, lent me a pair of extra boots, perhaps kept there for just such careless visitors as myself.  

I had a lovely time at the convent.  I rarely felt awkward and uncomfortable - I usually do in unfamiliar situations - and it just all flowed so smoothly.  That is not to say that it wasn't busy - oh gracious me, no.  Here's what the schedule's like:

You get up at 5:30 A.M to the ringing of the bell.  After 30 minutes to get ready, you head to the chapel, and Prime is sung/recited.  After that is half an hour of meditation.  Then comes Mass.  After Mass, about fifteen minutes for thanksgiving after Communion, then back inside to prepare breakfast, which starts at 8:15.  After breakfast there are chores - laundry, preparing lunch, housework.  The novices and postulants often have sewing, and the professed sisters have their own work to attend to - various things, I'm not sure exactly what they do, except a lot of them have office work.  Sometime during the morning, there are separate classes for postulants and novices.  Then, at 11:45 the bell rings for Sext, and all the Sisters file back into the chapel for that.  Then comes lunch - and by that time I was pretty ready for it.  During lunch, and usually dinner as well, one of the novices reads stories of the saints.  The Sisters are not supposed to talk at all during meals.  

After lunch and cleanup is the first recreation period of the day - about 45 minutes in which to chatter like crazy, play games, or go for a walk. Because there is partial silence for most of the day, recreation is usually pretty noisy!  

After recreation there's Rosary, then chant practice.  Then you finish up leftover chores from the morning, or do new ones, until free time at 3:50, during which you can get a "collation" - religious terms for coffee or tea.  There is a lot of coffee made in  that convent.  After free time there is a special time for spiritual reading - one of my favorite parts of the day.  The Sisters have an extensive library and so many good books that it's nearly impossible to choose.

Spiritual reading is all too short - only 35 minutes.  At 5:00 you go back to the chapel for Holy Hour, which is one of the Sisters' most important duties.  During the Holy Hour, one makes a meditation and does other prayers, comforting Our Lord in His loneliness and asking His pardon for sinners.  Kneeling that long, motionless, was really hard for me, but it's definitely worth it.  If God died on a cross for me, I can certainly kneel and keep still for one hour for Him!  

After Holy Hour and the Angelus comes dinner.  Like I said, dinner is usually silent, but sometimes an exception is made, like for a Sister's feast day.  Then it's a very merry meal indeed.  On normal, "silent" days, it's followed by cleanup and the second period of recreation.  After that, there's a period for study (which I didn't take part in) and then Compline and bed.  Lights out is at 9:45.

So yep, that's what the day is like.  It may sound hard, but it's just perfect in reality.  For me, anyway.  I was quite annoyed about the inevitable coming home.  

On the way home, I had an adventure.  My flight from Baltimore went right though a thunderstorm.  (And I did get to fly during sunset after all!)  At first I was excited about the thunderstorm - I love them, on the ground.  It gradually got very dark, and very turbulent.  The pilot made the flight attendants sit down, and nobody was allowed to get up.  For a while it was quite fun, but then the turbulence got REALLY BAD.  I mean clutch-the seat-in-front-of-you-and-try-not-to-get-bashed-against-the-window bad.  And then I saw a lightning bolt explode near my window.  At that point I confess I got rather frightened and mentally screamed Hail Marys, Acts of Contrition, and Memorares until we landed. 

It was pretty cool, to be honest.

So that was my adventure.  I'm ever so grateful for it, and I miss the dear Sisters dreadfully.  I fully intend to see them again before too long.

the view from my plane window, BEFORE the storm.

 

Of Convents and Clouds

I believe I owe my faithful readers (no posts in over a week, yet I just broke 8000 pageviews!) a bit of an update.  You see, I just haven't been able to come up with quality posts lately.  I'm not sure why.  Sometimes as I'm falling asleep I mentally write The Post of the Year, but by the time morning comes the idea has either been forgotten or has lost its luster.  Why is night such an exaggerated time?  People are always more emotional, more ambitious, and even more open at night.  I'm sure there's a reason for that, and I should very much like to know what it is.

(slightly creepy super-edited photo by me)

 So what have I been doing with my time lately?  Reading good books and indifferent ones, redoing algebra tests over and over till I have the problems memorized, trying (and mostly failing) to keep Lent properly, writing book analyses and doing tests on medieval and Elizabethan literature.  Also stalking people's tumblrs and crying over documentaries on The Lord of the Rings, but I rather prefer to ignore those bits.  Most importantly, I've been preparing for a Very Significant Visit to a certain convent.  Early tomorrow morning - so early that the stars would probably be out, if it weren't for the fact that it'll be cloudy - I shall be dropped off at the airport by my dad and thus embark upon my first trip alone.  Really, my first anything alone.  I'm not really scared, but there is a slight nagging in the back of my mind that's saying don't you dare mess up or so help me...

I love plane flights.  I've been on quite a lot, compared to most people, for which I am quite grateful. From the US to Germany, Germany to Scotland, back to the US, Virginia to Pennsylvania and back, and now this.  I'm not really sure what it is about flying that I like so much.  Probably it's just that - the fact that I'm flying.  Seeing cars turning into insects and rivers into threads, then the whole earth becoming a patchwork quilt, till finally you disappear above its curve into clouds that make a sort of fairy mockery of land - banks of vaporous continents, sky like oceans between them.  It's lovely.  And if you have the good luck to be flying at sunset (which I won't, this time), it's even better.

(photo by me)

But flying's not even the best part, because after all that, I shall arrive at a tiny little airport in the middle of New York and be met by smiling Sisters in graceful habits.  I'll be taken to a beautiful convent with Our Lord residing in a chapel a few yards away. I'm going to spend a whole week living a life I've dreamed about since I was six.  "Excited" doesn't even come close to describing my emotions.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~

 

Well, that got a bit out of hand.  I usually try not to spill myself out so much, but I think I'll let it go for now, because without the spilling this wouldn't be much of a post, would it?

So you won't see me for another week - not that it'll make a difference, as you usually don't see me for weeks at a time, anyway.

I'll be praying for you all from my convent chapel!

Stuff.

I'm so creative with titles, am I not?

I know, I know, I haven't posted for nearly a month.  I've got reasons, though.  See, a couple weeks ago it hit me that I have just six months of my life left in which to do school.  No, I'm not going to die in six months (hopefully), but I am going to graduate (again, hopefully).  There are some other life-y things that are taking - and will continue to take - a great deal of mental and emotional energy as well.  So yeah.  There's that.  Also (and this one is more interesting), a week ago I got home from my first ever spiritual retreat! It was lovely.  I strongly encourage anyone who's never gone on one to check it out.  Mine was a silent retreat: no talking at all for two-and-a-half days, excepting hymns, rosary, and the like.  It was actually wonderful to not have to say anything.  I quite liked it.  When you don't have to worry about talking to people, your mind is free to listen to God.  The difference is pretty amazing.  Also, nuns are awesome. The end.

Here we have Sr. Mary Veronica playing basketball after retreat. Many of the sisters are scarily good at sports.

So...what else was I going to say?  Oh, yes.  I must ask a question.  What is your opinion on personal posts?  I hate writing them because it seems so very self-centered, plus I'm not sure I really want my life splattered across the internet, but sometimes I can't think of anything to talk about, and I don't know if it's better to complain run on about my petty little doings or to just stay silent until I think of something worth posting about.  Let me know what you think in the comments.

Speaking of personal posts, I have been tagged by multiple people since I last posted, and I just wanted to let y'all know that I'm not ignoring you - I shall get to the tags soon-ish-ish.  (For the uninitiated, two "ishes" means it will probably take double the time of one "ish."  You're welcome.)

Well, that's about it.  God bless, and if you're in the path of the hurricane, don't die.  Kay? Good then.
(please don't be offended - the weathermen's hype drives me crazy and that's my retaliation right there.)

*blows dust from keyboard* (alternate title: complaints about schoolwork)

That title is metaphorical, actually.  My keyboard is used everyday and is never dusty.  But my *new post* button would definitely be dusty if was actually real and not just a combination of pixels.   I'm not gonna apologize about not posting for ten days, so if you wanted to hear that you can just skedaddle.  It's not happening.

September is a really busy month, apparently.  I figured it would be no different from August, but I was wrong.  You know the saying - "good grades, social life, blogging, and enough sleep: pick two."  (Well, maybe it doesn't go quite like that....)  September seems like it's going the month of good grades and social life.  BUT, I am working on my first guest post ever, which is awesome and scary.  It's a proof of my lack of time, though, that I only get about two sentences written at a time before I remember that I really need to answer the study question for English 11 because I have to do that and English 12 before the end of May, or I haven't done American Government for three days and I need to catch up, or...well, you get the idea.  Whoever said twelfth grade was the easiest is a LIAR.  DON'T LISTEN TO THEM.  It's really, really stressful.  You're welcome. 

Well, I'm off to clean stuff and write some of my guest post and watch babies.  Happy feast of the Nativity of Mary, by the way.

Someday Lists

Lately I've been saying a lot of things like "before I die I'm going to ---" or "someday I'll ---".  So I decided to just make bucket lists.

Why plural, you ask?  Well, because being the pessimistic practical person that I am, I have two lists.  The first is stuff I could conceivably do, if I set my mind to it, and the second consists of things that are improbable or  practically impossible - and, also, things that I forgot to add to the first list.  Oh, and by the way - I hate the name "bucket list".  I prefer to call them "someday lists".  And I don't care if you think that's cheesy, either, so there.

This is the "attainable" list.  (made with Pixlr)

I was going to write out the "impractical" list with Pixlr as well, but I got lazy and busy and stuff, so it's just gonna be in regular text:

 - direct a movie based on an undervalued, movie-less book. 

 - Be an epic, dedicated, real librarian.

 - Be an awesome Catholic, modest singer who single-handedly starts trends of nice skirts and reading Chesterton and being a lady.

 - Become a bestselling, awe-inducing poet or novelist or essayist.  I'm not particular which it is, though novelists are more universally enjoyed than poets or especially essayists.

 -  Go skydiving or some other extremely scary foolhardy activity.  (In real life I've too much sense for this, plus I don't crave such thrills.)

 - Meet somebody and become friends with them, speaking in a British accent the whole time.  They will always think I'm British, and then one day when we've known each other for years I'll casually tell them I'm American.

 - Perform in the kind of play that one pays to see.  (Preferably Shakespeare.)

 - Memorize an entire book.

 -  Give an interview.

 - Travel the world over and see every amazing thing I've ever wanted to.

~~~

Do you have a bucket list?  What's on it?

Cause you know, I'm a lot like my dad.

I had to do a Father's Day-ish post, because my dad actually reads my blog.  Sometimes.  Once in a while. 

He doesn't like to be talked about "in public" so that's exactly what I'll do.   I'm just like him, so I know how his brain works.  Yes I do. *evil cackle*.  My dad's a choleric-melancholic, which basically makes him a drill sergeant with a shy streak.  Nothing makes him happier than to have something done right - so at work he does everything for the incompetent people who are supposed to do it.  He's smart as anything and he discovered Einstein's theory of relativity in grade school, just to find out it had already been discovered.  At least, that's what he says.  I know he's smart, but if he's really that smart, it's scary.  He explains stuff to me all the time and makes me read books on philosophy and logic and theology and all kinds of complicated things.  I skim through them and then pretend to know what I'm talking about.  Sometimes we have deep discussions (in which I get mad and then get disproved into an embarrassed silence) late into the night. Those are fun cause I get to be completely and unabashedly nerdy, even if I am disproved into oblivion.  But you see, I got my know-it-all attitude from him, too.  I always say he gave me the worst traits, but in reality I like being like him, except for the hair and the temper.  Could have done without those. Oh, and I could have done without the love of internet surfing, too - though that can't be genetic because there was no internet when he was born in the far-off days of hippies and crazy hair and seriously freaky music videos that I still have to see because he has a sentimental attachment to what my mom calls "the music of his youth".  I have a different name for it, but we won't say it.

ANYWAY, so my dad's kind of amazing and I love him.  The end.