Audio: Mary Rose Kreger reads.
We arrived at my parents’ house around 9 pm.
I pictured what my sisters were doing back at the convent: evening study hall and then novice duties. It was a time of silence, in preparation for profound silence at 10.
My favorite nighttime duty had been the blessing of cells. I’d fill the Holy Water dispenser to the very top, then tiptoe through the cloister, whispering Hail Mary and blessing each cell with the Sign of the Cross. During those final moments of the day, the entire Motherhouse seemed wrapped in the sweet, calming presence of the Lord.
Like a sweet anointing, like precious oil, is Your Presence in my soul.
I shivered as I stepped out of the van and into my parents’ driveway. My dad had already salted the sidewalk, but everything that wasn’t concrete was covered in a thick blanket of snow.
So much for an early spring, I sighed. The weather had been mild in Nashville, but in Michigan it was still winter.
Anxiety nibbled at my resolve as I crunched over the snowmelt. At least in the car with my dad, it had been dark and quiet. Who knew what was waiting for me, inside the house?
It’s okay, Mary, I steeled myself. You knew this was going to be rough at first. Just take the next step forward.
Culture Shock
The door burst open before my dad could unlock it.
“Mary!” My mom and two younger sisters pulled me inside and buried me with hugs. I breathed in someone’s perfume, and that faint, fruity candle scent that I always associated with home.
“You’re so tan, Mary!” said one of my sisters.
“Oh…I guess from outdoor recreation?” I suggested. We played sports outside almost every day at the Motherhouse, even in winter.
“Look at your hair – it’s so short!” said my other sister. “I always thought sisters kept their hair long under their veils…”
“Well, not at our convent,” I said, blushing bright red. My hair, cut longer in front and boy-short in back, had been on my mind all day. I felt like everyone at the airport had been thinking, Ugh, she was definitely a nun before she got here!
April came to my defense. “I like it.”
I smiled. “Hello everyone! It’s so good to be home.” I gave everyone a second round of hugs, but the whole exchange felt so strange.
It’s 9 pm, I thought in confusion. No one should be talking right now.
Sensory Overload
Mom and my sisters led me into the brightly lit kitchen. I glanced around, noting many familiar household items, as well as the things that were new since my last visit. There was so much to see and hear: my mom’s cherry-printed tablecloth; my dad’s favorite root beer mug, standing guard by his chair. The hum of the dryer running in the basement, and the jingle of jelly jars as someone opened the fridge.
Each new color and sound struck my senses with painful intensity. After 19 months of white walls, silence, and lowering my eyes, just standing in my mother’s kitchen was sending me into sensory overload.
“Hey, Mary,” rumbled a male voice. I raised my head as my sister’s fiancé entered the room. “You’re back from the convent,” he half-sang.
Jack wore a faded blue jean jacket, and a cool, suave expression. He towered several inches above me as he wrapped me in a brotherly hug.
“Hi Jack,” I whispered. “It’s good to see you again.”
Inside, I reacted more like this: Aaaggghhh, there’s a man in the house!!!
True, Dad had driven me home, which had really been startling enough. But at least he was my dad.
Jack, however, was definitely a guy who was not related to me, in my parents’ house, during silence time, and he was talking to me, and—
Aaaggghhh!
“Would you like a glass of water?” my mom asked.
I nodded weakly, then dropped my gaze to the floor. I counted the Jerusalem floor tiles and tried to regain some sense of normalcy.
That was a normal interaction, Mary. I’m the one who’s not normal.
Alice in Wonderland
“Here you go, Mary.”
I clung to the water glass as Jack said his good-byes and prepared to leave. My dad whistled as he went to take the clothes out of the dryer, and April followed Jack to the front door. It all felt very routine; I was the one who had re-entered my family’s lives, a la Alice in Wonderland.
My head kept spinning as I sipped water from the glass. Even the tap water tasted different here. And the house was just so cold. Where were my comforting layers of cream-colored fabric, my heat-trapping white veil, to keep me warm?
My mom came up beside me. “Can I help you with your things, Mary? We made space for you in your old bedroom.”
My family had warmly welcomed me home, and they wanted me to be here with them. But it was obvious that I did not belong here…yet. I needed time to adjust. Perhaps a lot of time.
“Thanks so much, Mom. Yes, I’d love to unpack.”
As we headed upstairs, I remembered what Sister Grace had told me before I left: Just take it one day at a time, Sister.
One day, one moment at a time. Step by step, up the stairs, and into my room, which I now shared with April’s wedding dress and my beloved old bookcase.
I took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. Tonight, I would get ready for bed and sleep in my new, old bedroom.
In the morning, I’d wake up, and make the mile-long hike to our parish for daily Mass. No car yet, but there was no way I was going to miss it.
One day at a time, Mary. Just take it one day at a time.
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Thank you so much for reading! Join me next week to hear about my first excursion out of the house, post-convent. 🙂
