I still remember my last date. Maybe my good memory can be attributed to the fact that it hasn’t been so long ago for, just a year or so before the rumblings of World War II called the boys into service, I was secretly preparing for my entrance into the convent.
Of course, I told Mother and Dad first. They bravely kept my secret and helped me with the necessary preparations for entering into the service of God. It had been fun watching my girlfriends’ surprised responses to my secret, but telling the boys was something different.
On Saturday night, with just two more nights between me and the convent, I had a date with Carl for the lodge dance. I had decided to break the news to him when I said goodnight, just as I had done with Vince and Pat, although I knew it wouldn’t be as easy with him as it had been with them. True, I had had dramatic scenes when telling Vince and Pat, but I wasn’t concerned, because I knew that they were not as serious as they sounded. All I could do was laugh at Vince’s blustering avowal, “If you become a nun, I’ll become a monk!” He’d never scare me into reconsidering. As for Pat saying that he was through with women and that he’d never have another date—that too was nonsense. I knew that popular Pat could not keep his feet still—nor his heart—and he would soon forget me.
But Carl . . . well, I was really unprepared for his reaction. I should have known how much he differed from the others. His perpetually cool, unruffled disposition used to annoy me. He seemed to be made not of flesh and blood but of iron.
Always the same Carl, never moved by emotions—a fine-looking young man with a still finer character and a deep thinker. If I could possibly get Carl peeved with me—get his calm exterior a little less calm—I felt sure that good-bye would be much easier to say. I thought out my plans and was ready for the Saturday date.
Fluttering downstairs about twenty minutes late, with a not-too-sincere “I’m so sorry,” I kissed Mother and Dad and promised to be home early. Carl looked so handsome dressed in white that I chided myself for feeling so thrilled about dating him. My blue formal alongside his white suit suggested to me the Mother of God and I breathed a prayer to her to help me through the evening’s trial. Surely she heard my prayer, for without her help I might have made a bigger blunder of the event. Carl’s even temper was soon to be tried to the limit.
At the dance I carried out my plan. Luckily for me, quite a few “stags” from our crowd were there, and before Carl had time to realize it my dance card was filled. I felt ungrateful not keeping the last dance for him but how else could I ruffle him?
After each number when my partner and I returned to my table we found faithful Carl waiting patiently. He kept his sweet disposition until after the intermission. I don’t know what happened then, for Charlie took me for a short walk and we stayed away until the orchestra resumed playing.
But when I returned after the next dance Carl looked really stern. How mean I felt! But the big secret lay hidden inside, and I knew it would fall easier on Carl’s ears if he were peeved with me.
When the final piece had been played and I was brought back to Carl, his sternness had increased. I pretended not to notice his changed attitude and chatted about the fine music, the lovely evening, and the splendid outdoor dance floor. Carl listened without commenting, and I knew that I had achieved my purpose. I’d put the finishing touch to my plan by telling him that I wanted to go straight home, even before he took Mary and Jack to their homes.
I was now certain I had Carl where I wanted him. He drove me straight home with very few remarks and I thanked God that the radio had some music to heat up the summer chill. My conscience kept reproaching me, but I answered it by thinking, It’s better this way.
We arrived at our driveway and Carl was at my side as we went up the steps. I had to talk now, and talk fast.
“Carl, thanks for the lovely evening. I sure enjoyed myself.” He grinned a weak smile.
“Carl, you’ve been a swell person to me and I’ve always appreciated your kindness but I’ve got something to tell you, and since Jack and Mary are waiting I can’t take long.”
For the moment he seemed to forget that he was provoked with me and quickly suggested, “We can take Mary and Jack home now. And then we can talk without bothering.”
“Oh, no, Carl. What I have to say won’t take me long. You see, this is our last date because Tuesday I’m going away and I won’t be back anymore. I’m going to be a nun.”
If I had thrown a hand grenade at him I couldn’t have felt more cruel. He said nothing, just pierced me with his dark eyes. That intent look took on the makings of a stare and then a hard, steady glare. I felt weak and unsteady, hypnotized. For a full minute I tried to soften his reproachful eyes, but to no avail; and so I tiptoed close to him, smiled as tenderly as I could, and whispered softly, “Goodnight, Carl . . . and good-bye. Be good. Let’s pray for each other.”
As I closed the door, I saw him standing there as one in a stupor, still holding onto the screen door. How long he stood there I don’t know. It was dark in my room before I heard the purr of his motor; and only after what seemed an interminable length of time I heard his car pull away from the house.
On Sunday night I planned to spend a quiet evening at home with Mother and Dad, but before long the doorbell rang and there on the porch stood some of the gang. News of my going had just reached them and they were here for the purpose of “talking some sense” into me.
“If you must go,” they said, “why go now, when you’re having such a good time? Wait till you’re older.”
This argument and others were placed before me to make me change my mind—but I knew that I wanted to give my Spouse-to-be the best of my life and not wait until the boys at home were tired of me.
“It’s no use,” I said. “I’ve made plans to enter Tuesday. It’s not a sudden, overnight decision. I’ve wanted to be a nun since I was ten years old. It’s true that no else knew about it and I suppose I acted like it was the last thing on my mind, but it’s always been with me—even while I watched the moon on summer evenings.”
They had no more to say.
“You see,” I told them, “although I have always tried to keep close to God, it’s now my desire to be still closer to Him as His bride.”
After my first few years as Christ’s bride, I can truly say that He has made me realize that even the years before I entered religious life would have been more enjoyable had I spent them under His loving protection. Truly, living the life of a nun is wonderful. All the otherwise late hours of useless chatter and empty entertainment are now spent in sweet rest in preparation for my early date at Mass with Jesus. He comes in Holy Communion and gently whispers words of love to me. I know I am His bride and that my only duty is to try to become worthy of His love.
For the friends I gave up He has supplied me with a host of new ones. Each nun is as dear to me as a real sister. Living with such sweet friends of Christ, I can but strive to imitate their fine qualities. In the gardens of our convent no turmoil, rush, or worry disturbs the serenity. There is no bother about the proper dress to wear, nor anxiety about curls to fix, only peace and calm of heart and mind.
As for the children God might have bestowed upon me had I become a wife—even they are not missed, for He now lets me be a spiritual mother of a class of darling little ones. I enjoy teaching and I believe I have the love of my pupils. Here again, to love and to be loved is my reward for leaving home. Yes, I do miss my dear parents, but I still see them occasionally and in the convent my love has been deepened and moved to a higher plane. Christ has appointed for me a Mother Superior who to a great extent takes the place of my natural mother. My Mother Superior does not make me forget my own mother and dad. No indeed. Rather she takes their place spiritually and is ever tender and loving, interested in the welfare of my body and soul.
So it is clear that, though I entered the convent at the height of my good times, I have received a hundred-fold in return. Being a nun is the happiest vocation in life. Having tasted of the world’s pleasures, I am certain of my opinion.
Why, you might wonder, do I wish that I had become Christ’s spouse sooner, before enjoying the allurements of dances, shows, parties, and sports? Because after a recent physical examination I was told that the greater part of my life is over. A slight siege of illness has left me with a heart ailment that may be the cause of an appearance before my Spouse at any time. How much happier I could be if I had those years of frivolity “cashed in” on years of devoted service to my King. But since my youth has been as it is, I’ll have no real regrets. When I see my Lord, be it soon or in many years, I can meet Him with a clear conscience: I heard His call to religious life and I answered it.