Nunabe Diaries: Coming out of the perverbial nun closet and asking "Now what"?

J.M.J.A.T.K.G

Yesterday (Sunday) I told my mom I wanted to be a nun. It was a conversation I wanted to have for three years. Even though I didn't know we would have that conversation at that moment, I kept calm (something I was afraid I wouldn't do). I knew she would drag me through the mud, say hurtful things and I was right. She did say some hurtful things. But I was prepared for that moment.

What I wasn't prepared for was the aftermath.

Neither of my parents are going to disown me. But they completely disapprove of my vocation. Even though it was a difficult conversation I felt relief that I didn't have to hide my vocation. (Gone are the days I hide vocation magazines under my bed- actually that was gone when I completely moved out of the house this May)

I can't help but remember of all of those nights I laid awake at night planning on what I was going to say. And I can now say that this is probably the one time planning during discerning is a good thing.

But one thing I didn't plan was again, the aftermath. I'm not prepared to answer the basic "nun" questions that I've been asked for years. It feel so much more real telling my parents about my beloved community of choice. It's plain scary.

Though sometimes we need a shot of whiskey to wake us up. Or a knock on the head, whichever metaphor you like...

While I'm still very much hurt by what was said (I'm sure they are hurt too) I realized that my vocation is very much "Tonka tough". After the conversation I was questioning whether all this hurt was worth the pain and then I let that question sit for a bit (something I learned while discerning). Then sure enough, the fire came back. The nun thing was still a good idea.