Learning a new identity

From my journal:

"Today is Wednesday the 6^th of May 2015

I’m driving home. And I am playing the Shenandoah music. And, as I listen to the Shenandoah music, I was thinking of Marti and my visit last week in the Shenandoah Valley, and how much fun we had. And then I thought of the comments she made to me. She asked me if I had gone to a different monastery maybe I would have stayed and I said, “No, I think if I had gone to different monastery, when I said I don’t think I could live this life they would have respected that and let me leave." 

And then later on when we were hiking, she started to say something about “we nuns” and then she said, “Well, you are not a nun, I am.” And when she said that it kinda caught me off guard. And, I had to stop and think, well, that’s part of my problem, I forget I’m not a nun anymore. Because when you’ve been a nun that long, it’s hard not to identify with certain aspects of being a nun, like dedication, and love for God, and consecration. I don’t know what else.

So when we were in D.C. and the Dominican House of Studies was across the road, I was going to go over to see it. And then I reminded myself that I am not a Dominican any more. It’s not my family any more. Yea, I was part of it for a long, long time. It really isn’t my family anymore. I don’t have to keep clinging to these concepts and ideas, and identity. It is very hard to let the identity, the consecrated soul, the monastic, go.

And I also thought about the fact that for me, I feel like I am still consecrated. And I know I am. I am still consecrated. I’m still dedicated. I’m still living for God alone. For those who are still in religious life, I’m gone. I’m no longer one of them. And that’s another aspect of life I’ve got to get used to and I’ve got to accept and I’ve got to realize this truth. I’m not one of them anymore.

If they want to feel that I’m outside of their unique little “club” as you might call it, that’s okay. Because I’m not part of the unique little club. 

I have stepped forth to the broader ways of life. And though I lived that way for a long, long time, 30 years is not a small amount of time, I need to find a way to accept who I am now. My new identity….

For Love of a Song

It was just a tune. But as the notes played out of my car stereo, my mind caught them and memories were triggered.

I found myself standing on the monastic gravel road behind the community work room. The summer sun felt warm on my skin as the grass stood tall and dry along the side of the road. The pine tress filled the air with their scent. I lifted my eyes heaven ward and saw the deep blue sky holding its white, puffy, clouds gently so they could drift lazily across the vast horizon. I could see across the valley to the ridge on the other side, a valley filled with pine trees.

The monastery sound system was in the midst of playing a select array of pieces, one particularly moving to my heart and soul. It blared far and wide across the valley. It was recreation period, the time we could talk and share. I had decided to go outside and take a walk on the monastery grounds. Nature most healed my soul, and the music reminded me of my purpose being here. That reminder afforded me the strength I needed to live this most challenging and rewarding life. 

It was this music that kept me so long in a life I was not well suited for. My struggles were daily for almost 30 years. But each time we intoned a hymn, chanted the psalms, or played music, I would find heart and decide I could live this demanding life. More, I decided that without the life, I would not have the liturgical flavor to my life, and my life would be less.

This love for the rhythm of life kept me longer than it should have. When I finally made the decision to leave, I grieved many a day for the loss of the rhythm, the inspiration it offered, and the atmosphere it created.

So as I sit here today in my car, listening to the same powerful hymn coming unexpected from my stereo, my spirit joins that spirit from my past. Powerful emotions rock my soul, and it is hard to pull back to reality.

I grieve.

Yet, I recognize that I have accomplished much in the 15 years since I chose to move through an open door that led to many new blessings and accomplishments. I was truly blessed by God as one door after another opened in what can only be called the sign of God's blessings on my decision.

And still, there are times I yearn for those past monastic experiences, as if the memory selectively forgets the pain and only remembers the good.

It is good to remember the good. It is important to remember the whole picture.

I know how hard it is to move on from a place you love, but is also destructive for you.

I struggled to move on. And I have. Everything has been improved, beyond my ability to explain. I would not change my choice one second. I am double blessed by God.

And yet, there are moments when I still grieve.