Holy Dilemma

Constance Smith

Growing up in a household where money was as scarce as safety in jail could shape a person. For me, my life changed the moment I was thrown out in the streets at the tender age of fifteen, because I chose to speak up.

My mother and father divorced when I was five, then she remarried another man with whom she built a big family. The only issue? My stepfather was a man who loved his alcohol intake more than my mother did. Up to this day, I still can´t see what my mother saw in him.

When I was fourteen, in his drunk stupor, one night, he slipped into my bed and touched me. T started small, until one night when I was barely fifteen, he raped me. He threatened me, told me to stay quiet, but I didn’t. I told my mother, and instead of her protecting me, she slapped me and kicked me to the curb.

I wandered that night, alone, hungry, without money, clothes, or the bare minimum… until I sat on the steps of a place… a place I never set foot on, but that sounded like salvation - a church.

I stepped in, and a man in a black robe greeted me. He was a great listener, Father Mike, the parish priest. We talked and talked. He listened and tried to explain that God loved us, and that evil experiences were meant to be endured, to shape us into who we should become. When night fell, he stood up, sighed… and, picking up his phone, he placed a call.

Minutes later, a nun walked in. “Good night, Father Mike… thanks for calling,” she said, and then she looked at me.

“Dear, I am Mother Martha… I am the superior nun of the convent adjacent to this parish,” she said, and I had no idea what she was talking about, but it sounded important. My tummy growled, and she sighed.

“Come with me,” she sighed, looked at Father Mike, and nodded.

“We are a convent, not a charity place. I can host you for some time, until you decide what you want to do with your life,” she said in a serious, determined but soft voice.

I nodded, because when you are fifteen, alone, hungry, and afraid, and you encounter people of God who are willing to help you, you go along…This was better than a park bench or the streets.

“What am I expected to do?” I asked when she opened the door to an office.

“You will be given a habit, a novice habit…” she said, and then we expect you to get into the role of chores and prayer.

“Try it for a month… God put you onto this path… let´s see what he wishes for you…” she smiled.

“Am I going to be a nun?” I asked,

“Only if your heart is up to the task. You need to find your vocation, learn God´s ways,” she smiled, and I nodded.

I was led to a room; it was not much, but it was a roof over my head. I couldn´t complain. It was a FREE room over my head, a shower with scarce hot water, and not so fashionable clothing, but it covered me. It was something that gave me my value and dignity back.

Through the years, I learned about God. I learned to pray, to discover what he wanted from me, and to obey His wishes. The month trial went by in a wink, and when I talked to Mother Martha, I was honest when I told her I wanted to discover a bit more, to go deeper in my faith… so she allowed me to enroll in the convent, and follow a path to become a nun.

I would have never imagined that I would be there, in a place where I was safe and at peace. A place where no male would hurt me again, a place where I could heal, and allow God to heal me.

So fast forward seven years, and I was a nun… I loved what I did. I worked with the kids of the oncology unit at the hospital nearby. I loved it, even when at times, it was harrowing… And even when I loved it, and my life had taken an unexpected turn, I started feeling some void. Not a void in my faith, but a void in my life.

I was 22 years old when she walked into the convent. Marian Carhill. The heiress of Carhill Group and leader of the Eva Carhill Foundation. A woman who, despite being a powerhouse, found solace inside the convent after being humiliated and heartbroken by a man called Magnus Armstrong.

She was young, like me… and even when our upbringing is miles away, we clicked. She also became an oncology nun, and there I saw her heal, in the smile and broad energy of a male nurse, Aiden Davis, who was also the heir and future CEO of DVP Media Group. I witnessed it all, silently, undercover… wondering, questioning, doubting…

She left, of course, she was in the convent for a short period of time… but I was committed to the mission, seven years of my life, knowing our Lord and serving Him to the best of my abilities.

And her exit only made me wonder…Is there anything else out there? Is this really what I want to do for the rest of my days? Or am I taking the comfortable choice, the safe one, instead of the path I should take? Am I being of real service to a mission in life? Or am I missing my mission completely?

All those questions kept swirling around in my head, in my heart… and soon they became evident to Mother Martha. One morning, she called me into her office and told me that she saw it all over my face, the hesitation, the doubts, me falling apart.

As usual, she gave me time, especially when I explained to her that when I prayed, I didn´t hear the voice of God… She gave me a small smile and sighed. “You are crossing through a desert… it is normal, you should keep going, the answer will come most unexpectedly,” she said, and that made me feel a bit better.

Months passed, Marian visited a couple of times, and I could see she was glowing, while I felt my light getting smaller, dimmer. Life must be lived to the fullest, and maybe my time in the convent was up, and it was time to take a risk. When I was a little girl, I always wanted to be a mother… maternity was something that I had always wanted for myself in life. At fifteen, when I was alone and learning about God, maternity took a step back, and my life and the convent became my only option.

But now, seeing Marian take over, fulfill her dreams, I started wondering, and the desire to find out what was out there got louder every passing time.

It took me a while, but when I visited Mother Martha for the last time, she greeted me with a smile and that knowing look she always had. Somehow, she already knew my concerns and my decision.

“So, you are leaving,” she said, and I nodded.

“Do you have money? A place to stay? Work?” she asked, and I took a deep breath. I had already spoken to Marian.

“Marian is going to help me out…” I said, and she smiled.

“Good…” she smiled, and then stood up from her seat, walked around her desk, and hugged me.

“God Bless you, Connie…” she smiled. “You are going to thrive!” she said, and I felt a big weight off my shoulders. Somehow, making this decision was a tough one; I felt like I was failing not only God, but all the lovely ladies at the convent who had been wonderful to me… but knowing that I had her blessing made it all better.

New life, here I go!