Thirty Days Devotion During my last post, I wrote about my time at the convent. I was awed by the life of the Poor Clare nuns and the wonderful joy that they had. However, I was not sharing in that joy. Rather, I was torn and confused by my racing thoughts. My thoughts were obsessed with every little thing possibly being a sin and I was performing compulsory prayers and penances. Even though I was unhappy, I still wanted to "marry" Jesus with all of my heart (nuns are called "brides of Christ" since they give up marriage to man to live completely for God). “I’m going to pray a Thirty Days Devotion to St. Joseph,” I decided in February of 2015 as I knelt in the chapel of the Poor Clares. “By the end of it, I hope God will give me assurance that my vocation (my calling in life) is to be a Poor Clare!" I still had at least six years ahead of me before I'd become an actual nun, but I wanted peaceful assurance that the convent was where I was meant to be. All of the nuns talked about the peace they received from living the Poor Clare life. Since I wasn't feeling very peaceful, I thought I'd better bring this up to Jesus in prayer (and I could ask St. Joseph to pray as well). Now, the prayer for the Thirty Days Devotion to St. Joseph is very long. One says it every day for thirty (hence the name) days. I did it for the thirty days leading up to the feast of St. Joseph on March 19th. For the next month, prayer was the opposite of peaceful. I was disgusted with myself for not praying with perfect attention and devotion. At one point, I asked myself, “Am I depressed? Depressed like how I was in 9th grade? (See my blog post "Chapter 3: Jesus, Will You Marry Me?")” Remembering that depression is usually recognizable after a constantly “down” mood for two weeks or more, I thought, “Okay, I’ll see if this deep sadness persists for the next two weeks. If it does, then I really might be having a depressive episode. God, let that not be the case!" A Diagnosis It was the feast of St. Joseph. I had completed my Thirty Days Devotion and things were not going well. My thoughts were racing at an uncontrollable speed. I was terribly confused and extremely distressed. I cried a lot and was in a sort of shock as this thought entered my mind: God may not want me to become a nun. I denied it! It couldn’t be. Jesus asked me to go to the convent. I was perplexed that He may wish for me to leave. By this point, I knew I'd been feeling depressed for two weeks; a lot more than two weeks if I was being honest with myself. I had to tell my Novice Mistress. I told her and it surprised her because I seemed to hide it well. I also told her that going to prayer in the chapel was almost unbearable, I was so ashamed of my sinfulness. She called for Mother Abbess, who called for a psychiatrist immediately. Upon speaking to the psychiatrist, he quickly diagnosed me with Major Depressive Disorder. Major Depression is a mental illness that can have numerous causes (examples: a chemical imbalance in the brain, biological factors, social factors, etc.). It is recognized by a constantly depressed mood, low self-esteem, despair, anxiety, and inability to function. I asked Mother Abbess if she was willing to let me stay, even with the diagnosis. She agreed and made sure I started some medication. My depression only increased and my anxiety skyrocketed. My inwards felt like total chaos. My confusion was ringing like an alarm. I began to wonder if I could keep living this prayerful life with such dark thoughts and such a depressed mood. “Jacqueline,” Mother Abbess said to me after I told her more about my internal battle and that the medications were not working, “Perhaps this means that this isn’t the right fit, or at least, it isn’t the right time.” I cried, agreeing with her. Remember me hoping that at the end of my Thirty Days Devotion to St. Joseph, God would reassure me that this was where I was meant to be? Well, I got the opposite answer. My diagnosis of depression, the advice of my Novice Mistress and Mother Abbess, the advice of my psychiatrist, and my growing inability to pray, led me to finally surrender to the fact that this was not a healthy fit. It was April of 2015, and my parents were called. They drove the next day to come pick me up from the convent. I looked at Jesus one more time in the chapel of the Poor Clares. I left Him with a broken heart and complete bewilderment. I had no idea why He would ask me to go to the convent just to end up leaving it. What happened when I returned home? How did I get out of my depression? You'll have to stay alert for next week's blog post!
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Living the Life I was living the life of a cloistered nun! It was my dream come true. I was living like my favorite saint, St. Clare, and was with a community of wonderful, happy women. I got to see Jesus all the time. He was there—the Eucharist—and I was blessed to pray in the chapel at least five times a day (at least!). Most of the time, I prayed with the sisters, and sometimes I had private prayer. I was given instructions on basic Catholicism and the life of a Poor Clare. I found it fascinating and I was “wowed” by the sisters’ humility, praise of God, and how every little action was for Jesus. Pictures of Jesus were everywhere. The name of Jesus was repeated constantly and used with the utmost reverence. During meals, we would pray and listen to a sister read from a spiritual book or listen to a spiritual tape. Together, we had choir practice, enjoyed recreation, and decorated the convent for feast days. We made gifts for sisters on their anniversary of vows, prayed for the deceased sisters of the community, wrote to Poor Clare communities around the world, carved pumpkins for Halloween, and had picnics. There I was, living the life, courting Jesus, talking to Him all the time, and yet…something felt “off.” A trial quickly came upon me. This trial was going to hurt, but Jesus was going to give me all the graces I needed to get through it. I wouldn't see the benefit of it at first, but He knew that in time, I'd experience suffering that doesn't end in death, but with life! Here is what He was saying to me (I'll take it from Scripture). I didn't understand or realize what He meant, but He spoke nonetheless: Jacqueline, for a little while, you are to suffer through various trials. Your faith is more precious than gold. Gold is perishable and therefore, must be tested by fire. (See 1 Peter 6-8). A little while and you will no longer see Me, and again a little while later and you will see Me. (See John 16:16) As the Father sent Me into the world to suffer and die, so I send you into the world to suffer and die. I consecrated Myself for you, so that you also may be consecrated in truth. (See John 17: 18-19) What I am doing, you do not understand now, but you will understand later. (See John 13:7) You sow in tears, but will reap with cries of joy. (See Psalm 125:5) The Trial I thought that giving up family, clothes, money, electronics, and independence was a step toward sanctity, but I quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn’t nearly enough. Every action and thought I had, had become a sin. Looking at my reflection in a window: it was a sin—how vain I was! Exaggerating a story in conversation: it was a sin—I was a liar! Being too slow when cleaning: it was a sin—I was lazy and idle! Distracted during Mass: it was a sin—I only cared for myself and not God. I didn’t have the joy of Jesus in me: it was a sin—I was a sour faced Christian! Sin. Sin. Sin. It became my obsession. My expectations for myself grew more and more, making me feel absolutely terrible. Then, I felt terrible about feeling terrible, because a nun is always happy (Warning: Sarcasm). My head told me that I couldn’t muster enough devotion for Jesus or His saints. I needed to have great devotion to every saint and pray equally to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I needed to pray more. I made myself do countless daily ritual prayers including praying for each person I knew and knew about with utmost strength and fervor. I never felt complete or finished. I was never satisfied and always felt compelled to do more. I needed to do more. So, I did more, and it still wasn’t enough. My head also said that I had to deny myself as well because I was a horrible, horrible sinner. Penance! No salt on my food! Sit up straighter in the chapel! Straighter! No chap stick, no matter how dry my lips were! It wasn’t enough! It wasn’t enough! The hardest thing was that with all of these prayers and penances, I had to do them perfectly and do them with complete happiness. I don’t know about you, but doing all of that stuff every day on top of the regular “nun” expectations is pretty hard—almost impossible to accomplish. What is even more impossible is to do it with a large smile and to be overflowing with happiness. I wasn’t overflowing with happiness—I was overwhelmed! As I became extremely unhappy, I blamed it on homesickness and not trying hard enough at the nun’s life. If I was holier and less of a sinner, I would be able to happily serve the Lord as a Poor Clare. I started calling myself a worm and a maggot. I saw myself as deserving hell. I began to think I was no longer in love with Jesus, but in love with the devil. Refusing to acknowledge that I was internally struggling, I didn’t tell my Novice Mistress or Mother Abbess. I continued thinking, “Jesus asked me to go to the convent with Him. I have to stay. Nothing is wrong. This is where I’m meant to be. Of course, this life is hard. I knew it would be. Jesus is helping me and I’m staying till He tells me to leave. I still want to be His bride! I want to take vows and marry Jesus!” Do you see how confusing this was? On one end, my mind twisted so much to think that I was in love with the devil, while at the same time, I was still clinging to my desire to be Christ’s bride! I was torn and utterly confused. What was I to do? Find out by reading next week's blog post! The Proposal I was love-sick my senior year in high school. I couldn’t get enough of Jesus and I even thought to myself, “Jesus is my date for the homecoming dance.” He was the only One I wanted. So, I dressed up with some girlfriends, put on some heels and went to the dance. Now, I’ve always struggled at dances for many reasons. One is that I have social anxiety. Another is that I worried, like most people, about fitting in and being liked. I was one of the girls who stood on the sidelines when the slow dances came on. I also had no interest in flirting or dating (though I still considered myself to be dating Jesus). Also, as I was dancing and watching others dance, I was thinking about how I wanted so much more. More than makeup, clothes, popularity, food, and little thrills. I smiled, though, and did my best to have fun since there is nothing wrong with dancing with friends and celebrating. As I danced, Jesus took the opportunity to speak to me. I became very aware that Jesus was present in the chapel down the hall. See, I went to a private catholic school, so the Eucharist was always available in the building. You could visit me. Jesus spoke to my heart. I’m right here. You can just stop in and say “hello.” I grew annoyed and frustrated as Jesus kept telling me He was there. I had an extreme yearning to see Him, but I was at a dance! This was not a time for prayer. I needed to just socialize and have fun dancing, not sneak away to the chapel with Jesus. Jacqueline. He kept calling me. “No!” I said back to Him. “What if someone saw me going to the chapel? What would they think of me?” I want to see you and you want to see Me. He seemed to say. I relented. “Fine. Fine. I’m coming. Just for a moment.” After darting away from the people, my bare feet hurried down the hall and I opened the door to the chapel. Relief and awe met me as I saw Jesus (the Eucharist). I let out a shaky breath. “Hi," I said, kneeling down and swiping my hair behind my ear. He was only a couple feet away from me, in the golden Tabernacle. The lights were barely on and the thump of music from down the hall vibrated the ground. “I…” I started, clearly speechless. Looking at my hands, I began to tell Him a jumble of things but was interrupted. A few notes from a familiar song met my ears. My gaze darted up to Jesus as my mouth parted in surprise. It was “Love Story” by Taylor Swift. Read my previous blog post, “Chapter 3: Jesus, Will You Marry Me?” if you want to know what this song meant to me. I can’t explain what happened. I can’t put it into words because no words were actually spoken. It was a conversation—an understanding—that took place in my heart. We communicated with our eyes. He spoke directly to my soul. This will hardly suffice, but I’ll leave you with these words. “Jacqueline, will you marry Me?” Jesus asked. “Yes!” I said, “yes”. Taking Action It was official. Jesus and I were engaged. I wrote to the Poor Clares again and I asked to visit them. After visiting them, I became more confident that was what God wanted me to do. He wanted to marry me, and He was asking me to begin the process of becoming a Poor Clare nun. After some more encouragement from the Holy Spirit, I requested an application. After a few months, I was accepted and ready to enter the convent after I graduated from high school. My entrance day was decided to be October 11th, 2014. I waited in earnest and my soul was practically flying in heaven as I dreamed and prepared for my entrance. I was going to marry Jesus! At last! I was going to be a nun! I would be following in the steps of my favorite saint, St. Clare. I would leave home at seventeen and give up wealth, family, and all material things for Jesus. I was going to miss my family terribly, as the Poor Clares are cloistered nuns, meaning they never leave the convent, except for the occasional doctor appointment. This is so they can fully concentrate on prayer. Still, I was willing to make the sacrifice. If leaving home meant entering my heavenly home at the convent, I was willing. October 11th came at last. I was as ready as I could be. With a large smile and trembling hands, I stepped into the cloister. Stay tuned for Chapter 5 to read about my time at the convent! The Poor Clares Nuns. Nuns. Nuns. During my middle school years, I definitely grew in my desire to be a nun. I had read a book titled, Break in at the Basilica, by Dianne Ahern. It was a fictional mystery about a nun who was a secret agent for the pope. In this particular book, St. Clare of Assisi (a woman from the 1200's) was introduced to me. St. Clare was a woman who gave up marriage, wealth, family, and power so that she could become a nun. She founded the religious order known as the Poor Clares. After reading about the Poor Clares in this book, I said to my mom, “I want to be a Poor Clare.” “Ok,” My dear mom said, “how about you write to them and see if you can be pen pals?” My eyes lit up. “Yes!” So, mom went on the internet, looked up the Poor Clares, and found a lovely community in Cleveland, Ohio. I wrote to Mother Abbess telling her that I really liked the Poor Clares. She wrote to me in return! This was the start of a series of letters exchanged between myself and the community. Mother Abbess answered my questions, encouraged my desire to be a nun, and gently listened to my account of the Lord’s call. I was absolutely delighted every time I received a letter from them. A prayer card was always included and usually some sort of brochure or booklet that described their way of life. Poor Clare nuns are beautiful. They go barefoot throughout the convent as a sign of their poverty and wear flowing black veils and simple brown habits. They wear a ring as a sign of their espousal to Jesus Christ and are cloistered, which means they only leave the convent for the occasional doctor appointment so they may instead, fully concentrate on prayer. Remember how I mentioned that Jesus is present in the Eucharist during my last post? Well, the Poor Clares have a deep devotion to the Eucharist. They live in the same house as Jesus Himself! They spend hours adoring Him and praying for the world. The more I read about these women while in middle school, about their radical, romantic way of living for and with Jesus, the more I wanted to be a Poor Clare. Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” My fantasies increased. St. Clare knew how to be a radical, great saint, and it was my goal to follow in her footsteps. She became a nun at eighteen like many other saints, so that meant I had to become a nun ASAP! Here is the thing: Nuns are women who “marry” Jesus. Jesus and a nun dedicate their lives to each other through vows the way a man and a woman dedicate their lives to each other through marriage vows. Now, if I was to marry Jesus, I needed Him to…ask me. I waited. And I waited. He didn’t ask me. Ok. Jesus wasn’t asking. “Jesus, will you marry me?” Laugh if you will, but I was completely serious. “I love You,” I said to Jesus, “You’re amazing! You’re my BFF and I want to spend all of my days with You. You love me--duh, Your Name is Jesus Christ—God Himself! Now, if we love each other like this, I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t get married!” This seemed to be a time that Jesus was silent when I talked to Him. Or…He was speaking and I didn’t like His answer of, “Jacqueline, Patience. Wait. We’ve been dating for a while now, but you’re still only twelve years old! I’m not going anywhere. I do wish to take you to an even deeper level of friendship, but you are not St. Clare. You are my Jacqueline. I will tell you when the time is right.” Yeah, I admit that Jesus did say that, but I did not like His answer. So, I begged Him some more. Now, I’m going to assume you’ve heard of the song, “Love Story” by Taylor Swift. If not, look it up. This song became my number one during my middle school years. The song is about Romeo and Juliet. Juliet’s dad tells Romeo to stay away from his daughter. Juliet asks Romeo to save her from her forbidding father and to run away with her. Eventually, Romeo sets things straight with the father and asks Juliet to marry him. I imagined myself as Juliet and Jesus as Romeo. My forbidding father was who I found represented God the Father. I figured that God the Father said that it was not yet time for me to marry Jesus, His Son. Yet, I begged Jesus to take me away from all of the fading stuff like money and clothes and let me run away and marry Him, so that I may have heavenly wealth and spiritual jewels. I awaited the day that Jesus would say, “Marry me, Jacqueline,” the way Romeo said, “Marry me, Juliet,” in the song. I played the song over and over again--just dreaming—no proposal. This continued into my high school years. Depression With all of these fantasies, I have to give you a quick review of a real illness that invaded my life. This will be a brief mention of it, as I will go more in depth in future blog posts. I was a freshman in high school when I was first diagnosed with depression. Why? I’ve asked that question a lot. I believe I was born with this illness in me, and that it was triggered by entering high school. I was mad at Jesus. I wanted to be His bride—why couldn’t I be His bride now? I was overwhelmed by bullying, swearing, and peers "sexualizing" everything. I felt like I was the only one who believed or cared about God, even though that was far from the truth. I felt like I was in hell, so I asked Jesus to take me to the convent since nuns live their heaven on earth. No religious order accepted fourteen-year-olds. I despaired. It felt like Jesus had left me; rejected and abandoned me. Yet, help was given to me by my sweet Jesus. God made sure to give me awesome parents who got me into therapy and I started taking medication. My dear therapist assured me, “Jesus is sitting right beside you, holding your hand.” I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was Jesus speaking through my therapist, “Jacqueline! I’m here! You can’t feel me, but I AM here! I AM speaking, even if you don’t recognize My voice! I AM before you, even if you don’t recognize My appearance!” I transferred to a small private school. Things definitely got better. I started laughing again, made friends, and I felt comfortable. Jesus was in the chapel at school, so I could always go to Him with any of my joys and sorrows. I had hope and I fell deeper in love with Jesus. My desire to be a nun was still there, and it also started to mature as I realized that I didn’t have to be a nun to be a saint. I knew I could get married and still be a saint, but I thought, "What woman wouldn't want the King of the Universe as her husband?" When visiting the chapel at school, I would look at Jesus in the Eucharist. “I want You alone! I really like this order of Poor Clares. They live 100% for You. What do You think about me entering the convent after high school?” Jesus smiled at me, as usual. I smiled back, forcing myself to be patient. “Only when You tell, me, though! I know I've asked You countless times, but I promise, I won't enter the convent until You ask me!” Stay tuned for Chapter 4 to read about Jesus’ marriage proposal! |
AuthorJacqueline St. Clare: I spent six months in a cloistered convent, and now I'm a college student! Archives
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