Lisa and me in the convent, December 2012
Lisa and me, friends and blog buddies, August 2021

About Monastery in My Heart

In January 2021, my friend Lisa invited me to become a contributor for her blog at www.monasteryinmyheart.com. Lisa and I have been friends for 10 years, since the days we were both in the convent together. (See before and after photos above.)

In April 2023, Lisa chose to deactivate her website and blog. I am so grateful for the opportunity to contribute to her website during the past two years. Without Lisa’s invitation to write for her blog, I might not have gained the courage to build this website and connect with all of you.

On Monastery in My Heart, I wrote the story of my spiritual journey—before, during, and after the convent. Here is the poem that started it all:

Audio: Mary Rose Kreger reads.

Monastery in My Heart Poem*

Once outside the convent
You still long to be inside it
The white curtained walls
The ancient creaking floors
The silence and the song.

He drew me in and I followed,
Hungry for the final Word in treasures—
His secret gaze pierced me, pleaded silently:
Come.

I left everything to find Him,
My home, my job, my family—
Stepping out of the boat into the deep waters.

In return, He gave me the Cross,
That bitter cure-all for a thousand ills,
But also a taste of Heaven.

19 months in His garden, and then He says,
“Go home and tell your family all that I have done for you.”
And so I do. I go home and tell of
The white curtained walls
The ancient creaking floors
The silence and the song.

Six weeks later, I meet James,
The man whom I will marry
Whose birthday is Christmas like
The First Beloved of my heart.

We work and we play, we talk and we pray.
We are married, find a home,
Have a son, then a daughter—
Make friends, lose friends.
Die a hundred tiny deaths, and
Rise a hundred times again.
We share our lives together.

The Lord makes us new—He kisses me
With James’ touch, and embraces me with
Lukie’s arms, and gazes at me
With my daughter’s eyes.

He still wants me, even if His rose was
Never meant to stay in His convent garden.

No, rather to struggle and labor
In this world, pretending to fit in
When my heart has been spoiled for anything
Save Him.

On the outside, endless motions,
Movements of faith, hope, love—
And grit and survival, too, for this
Long journey is hard.

On the inside, a tiny-heart-home,
Always longing for the white curtained walls,
The ancient floors, where I first saw Him.

There, I tasted heaven once—
A darkness that was Light—
And I can no more return to my
Heathen ways than a child to her
Mother’s womb. I tasted heaven once, and my
Heart is ruined for anything else.

*Originally published on www.monasteryinmyheart.com.

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