Then Came Heaven (25 page)

Sister Regina spoke first, so softly she might have been speaking to a student during study time. “Thank you for seeing me, Mother Agnes.”

The older woman nodded wordlessly. There was a curious peace in the room, no rush, no urgency.

“I imagine you’re aware of what transpired in the flower room this noon.”

Mother Agnes nodded again.

“Undoubtedly you thought that’s what I’d come to talk about, but I’ve come about something far more significant than that. What happened in the flower room is only one small manifestation of a much larger... I shall call it a problem that I’ve been praying about.” Sister Regina spoke low and slow, certain of her course. “I fear, Mother Agnes, that I’ve been growing more and more dissatisfied with my life here within the spiritual community. These feelings have been growing for a very long time.”

“I’ve been aware of it, Sister.”

“Of course you have.” Sister Regina smiled up at Jesus on the wall and went on quietly. “I cannot say exactly when it began, but not this month, not last, not even this year. These things don’t start on a given day, but grow from some... some unknown moment and I don’t know when that moment began. But I realize, Mother, that I no longer belong here and I wish to seek a dispensation from my vows.”

Much to Sister Regina’s surprise, Mother Agnes showed no sign of shock. She said quite calmly, “I imagine you’ve prayed and reflected long and hard over this before speaking to me about it.”

“Yes, Mother, I have.”

“And you’ve asked God’s help in making your decision?”

“Many times.”

“Good. Then let me start by saying that it’s not a sin to doubt your vows.”

“In my head I know that. In my heart I feel differently, because I knew from the time I was eleven years old that this was what I wanted to be. Everybody said I should be a nun, especially my grandmother, who was the most deeply religious person I ever knew. She, above all, gave me to believe that life as a religious was the epitome of service to God, and that I was cut out for it above all my other brothers and sisters. In school, of course, there were nuns who said the same thing.”

“And now you think they were wrong?”

“What I think, Mother Agnes, is that I was so very young and malleable, too young to question their opinion. And, of course, I realize that it was part of the nuns’ duty to foster vocations, just as it’s now a part of mine. Time and again I heard it—‘Oh, Jean Marie, you’d make such a wonderful nun, you’re suited to it in every way.’ When it’s the people you love and trust the most saying it—your grandmother and your teachers—you tend to believe them.”

“What about your parents? Didn’t they want you to go into the convent?”

“Oh, of course they did. Every Catholic family wanted one of its children to become a priest or a nun. But there were so many of us at home—nine kids—that one wouldn’t be missed so much, and I always felt that they were pretty much resigned to the fact that they’d lose one of us. It was their duty to let one go. But my grandmother never thought of it as 
losing
 me. She always believed I was blessed above all the others.”

They let silence fill the room for a while, contemplating what Sister Regina had said. Then Mother Agnes, with her fingers laced over her round stomach, gazed at the crucifix and remarked, “Every religious I know has someone like that who inspired them. What has made you change your mind, Sister?”

Sister Regina had thought through her answer long before the question was asked. “I’ve come to the slow realization that I wasn’t as cut out for it as they all thought. I’m sorry to say that community life has not lived up to my expectations, and though I’ve tried and tried to find fulfillment in my relationship with God, I can never disassociate myself enough from worldly concerns to be completely at one with Him. I’ve always had a great deal of trouble honoring my vow of obedience, and lately I’ve begun to question everything. Holy Rule most of all. Much of it I find senseless and counterproductive, and I break it so often that I live in a constant state of guilt and repentance. Sometimes anger. Today... when Sister Mary Charles took Anne Olczak in the flower room, it was as if everything finally became crystal clear, and I knew the time was here to make this change in my life.”

Mother Agnes ruminated awhile, nodding. Then she asked, “May we speak of the Olczak children, Sister? Because I think they hold a very special place in your heart.”

“Yes, Mother, they do.”

“And I think maybe that when their mother died you wanted very much to make up for their loss.”

Sister Regina chose her words carefully. “The death of Krystyna Olczak has had a more profound effect on me than I ever believed possible.”

“In what way, Sister?”

“She was...” Sister Regina didn’t know how to put it. “She was the most nearly perfect mother, and daughter, and wife and parish supporter I’ve ever known. When she died, I guess I began assessing what she had given to the world and comparing it to what I as a nun give to the world, and for the first time I began questioning what my grandmother and the nuns always said, that a life as a religious was the epitome of service to God. I felt...” Sister Regina's voice dropped to a softer note. “... I felt as if they had lied to me. For Krystyna Olczak served God in as noble a way as I ever did. Perhaps nobler, for she had to do it without a book of holy rules that automatically takes care of all the vicissitudes of life. I am convinced that Krystyna Olczak is a saint today.”

“You may be right. Tell me, do you feel bitter about the years you’ve spent as a religious?”

“Bitter? No, Mother, not bitter at all. When I entered the postulate I felt dedicated to the way of life and believed it was God’s will for me, that His voice was within me and it was important and true. Lately I’ve spent much time in prayer and meditation, and I realize that His voice is 
still
 
within me, and it’s just as important that I listen to it now as it was then. God isn’t just... well, He isn’t just out there somewhere...” She gestured to the world at large. “...He’s in here...” She tapped her heart. “He 
is,
 
Mother Agnes. And I believe He’s guiding me in my present decision.”

Mother Agnes sat calm and thoughtful for a long while. Her elbows rested on the arms of her chair, hands joined, thumbs slowly circling. Outside the night wind made a faint whistle around the downspouts, and upstairs the hall floor creaked as someone tiptoed to the bathroom. “Well,” Mother Agnes said at last, the single word coming out on a soft gust of breath. “That’s a very powerful argument, Sister Regina. And I am the last one to try to convince you otherwise. This is your life, you must live it as you see fit.” This was not at all the response Sister Regina had expected. Her surprise showed.

“Do you mean that, Mother?”

“Of course I mean that. But let me say just one thing that I hope you’ll take to heart. There are very few nuns I’ve known who haven’t at one time or another questioned that they made the right choice. All but two decided to stay, and I believe all are happy with their choice, including me.”

“You considered leaving?”

“Yes, I did.” The older nun looked at her lap while remembering, and decided to share the story. “It was at a time when one of my real sisters, the one I was closest to when we were growing up, had just delivered her third stillborn baby, a beautiful full-term dead baby girl, the last one she would ever conceive. Afterward she asked for me. I went home and saw her tremendous sorrow, and her husband’s sorrow that they would never have any children, and I grew very angry with God.” The old nun paused and gazed down at her knees. “And while I was there, I ran into a doctor at the hospital who had been a young, handsome man the last time I’d seen him, a boy I dated in high school. He had recently lost his wife, and he confessed to me that he’d been in love with me all those years ago and I’d broken his heart when I entered the convent. There were... shall we say, temptations.”

In the small puddle of lamplight, surrounded by high shadows, Sister Regina waited, surprised by the older nun’s story. Then Sister Agnes drew a deep breath, lifted her chin and went on.

“But I, like you, heard the voice of God within me. Only He told me He needed me here, so I returned. Having been through the trial and triumphed over it, I found myself more fully committed than ever, and I’ve never been sorry a day for the path I chose.”

Sister Regina’s expression remained quiescent, like the Madonna’s. Her hands were linked loosely underneath her scapular, which tented to her knees. She thought about what Sister Agnes had told her, surprised that Mother Superior had revealed so much of her personal history.

“Tell me, Sister,” the older one asked, “has there been a similar temptation for you? Does your vow of chastity play a part in this?”

Sister Regina wondered how to respond. “I don’t know how to answer that. A small part, perhaps, but more as a catalyst to make me reconsider the religious life I’ve chosen. In physical terms there’s been not a word spoken, not a touch exchanged, not a single indiscretion of any kind whatsoever. I believe it’s been more of an examination of what I’ve missed—marriage, children and the home life that goes along with it. And the freedoms. Those have been beckoning strongly for some time.”

“I, too, thought of all that when I faced the doctor.”

“The freedoms, too? I would not have thought...”

“The freedoms, too. We are, after all, humans, Sister.” They let a thoughtful moment spin past, then Sister Regina said, “Father Kuzdek told me I should talk to you, and that I might be surprised at what I heard. I am.”

“Ah... so you’ve already been talking to Father.”

“Yes.”

“It’s come that far, then.”

“Yes, I’m afraid it has. I would very much like to go home and tell my family about my decision, especially my grandmother. It won’t be easy telling her in person, but I’d rather do it that way than in a letter. Christmas vacation starts this week. The timing seems providential.”

Sister Agnes finally showed some dismay—a quick indrawn breath. “So soon? Perhaps if you take a little more time to pray and meditate... make a retreat.”

“I’ve already done that, Mother Agnes. I made a retreat last August for exactly this purpose, and I’ve said so many prayers since, and meditated and done penance. I’ve gone through the whole agonizing process, searching my soul, asking myself and God what is truly right for me, and I believe that God and I have reconciled ourselves to my decision. Now I need to reconcile it with my family.” Sister Agnes continued nodding solemnly.

“Well...” She sounded sad. “... so soon. I thought maybe next spring, when the school term is finished.”

“I understand it can take as long as six months for the paperwork to go clear to Rome and back.”

“Yes, but...” Mother Agnes let her shoulders droop. “Oh, dear.” She sighed and glanced at the crucifix again. “I suppose I’m resisting out of purely selfish reasons because I don’t want to lose you, Sister. You’re one of our best teachers, and in spite of what you think of life within a religious community, you have added much to ours.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“Have you made plans for your life outside the convent?”

“Not yet.”

“It’s my duty to advise you that this step can be very difficult. What will you do to earn a living, and where will you live?”

“I’m not sure yet, Mother, but I can always teach.”

“I must warn you, the Catholic Church frowns on letting former nuns teach in their schools.”

“Not even in another town?” It had been Sister Regina’s plan to become a lay teacher in another parochial school.

“It’s very doubtful.”

“You mean they’ll blackball me?”

“Blackball is a very strong word.”

“But that’s what it amounts to, doesn’t it?”

Mother Superior’s voice grew understanding. “It’s my duty to prepare you for your life after you leave us, and to inform you of the Church’s stand on these things.”

They’ll deny me a job? When I’m a qualified teacher and Mother Agnes considers me one of her best?
 The news went zinging its way through Sister Regina like an electric current. What went unsaid, what she suddenly understood with amazing clarity, was that once she doffed her habit, the Church was afraid she might influence other nuns to quit; her presence would be a reminder that it was possible. She was still reeling from the news when Mother Agnes inquired, “Will your family help you get established?”

“I... I don’t know. They aren’t wealthy. Just ordinary farmers who work hard for a living.”

“Yes, well... these things have to be considered.” What Mother Agnes was saying was that a nun who received a dispensation left with very little, for all property was community property, even gifts that nuns might have received over the years. Their Constitution forbade the ownership of either cash or worldly goods by an individual.

“I’ll just have to take this one step at a time,” Sister Regina replied. “I thought I’d speak to you first, then my family, then whomever I must see to take the necessary formal steps.”

“That would be the prioress, Sister Vincent de Paul at Saint Ben’s. You would go to her and state your intentions and fill out a form requesting the dispensation of vows, and she’d forward it to the president of the congregation, who will then send it to the Holy Father in Rome.”

“And then... while I wait? What then?”

“You return here and continue as before, until the Holy Father signs the paper and it’s returned to you.”

“And that takes six months?”

“Approximately.”

“I see.” 
There’s public school,
 Regina thought. 
I could always teach in public school.
 But the idea was repugnant: teaching in a place devoid of prayer. She wanted to remain close to the religious structure much the way a child swimming over his head for the first time wants a life buoy floating along by his side. “So, after I see Sister Vincent de Paul is time enough to think about my future.”

“Yes. I suppose so.”

They seemed to have covered everything, but Sister Regina still didn’t have one important answer.