Peering Beyond the Prayer Book: Epilogue

So what have I learned? After nine months of living, praying, and working at a monastery, what does it all mean?

Was it worth it?

To answer all of these questions, it may be best to start at the beginning. By beginning I mean the application that I sent to Sr. Teresa to apply for the monastic immersion program. I found the file again through my work, and it has been interesting listening to my self from one year ago and saying, “Ha, if only you knew what was coming!” One of the most important pieces looking at my application today was when I was asked to describe my greatest hope for my volunteer experience (in twenty words or less). I wrote, “To be confident in myself as well as my relationship with God, spending time in silence and prayer.” Well friends, I have spent more time in silence than I would have liked and lots of time in prayer, but what is more striking to me is the first part of my hope, that I was looking for self-confidence and to feel secure in my relationship with God.

In reflecting on my experience, self-confidence occurred almost immediately. The first few days after my arrival left me unexpectedly anxious. I was terribly nervous and unsure of how to act, what to wear, or where to go. Living among 40 women much older than I made me feel a bit like an alien from another planet, and suddenly I did not know what was “acceptable.”

Suddenly, a voice of reason.

I arrived in the midst of an artist-in-residence program and as a birthday treat they invited me to come with them to Taco Tuesday at the local Pub & Grub (no trip to the Monastery is complete without such a visit). Over drinks and tacos, one of the artists told me, “You know, it’s so great that you can just be yourself here.” Immediately, my fears vanished. She was right. I could and can only be myself; I cannot be anyone else. I can only be Sarah in all my multi-faceted, sparkling, fluorescent self. I vowed then to be completely myself, and if there were problems with that, I would deal with them when they happened.

There were problems.

While I felt much, much better by being myself, not everyone was pleased at my presence here at the monastery. It was as much a growing experience for me being here as it was for the sisters, some of whom more than once have shushed me if I have gotten “out of hand.” There has been frequent confusion over which rooms I can and cannot go in. There are many comments about my youthful energy as constantly run up and down the stairs, and I am sure no one will miss my incessant “flip-flop, flip-flop” up and down the halls. Nevertheless through it all, I have continuously reflected on my behavior and actions. If there is something I did that was inappropriate or unacceptable, then I would apologize. If I have behaved respectfully and courteously, then this helps me to see my boundaries. What is my stuff and what is someone else’s has been a recurring theme for me, and I have had much practice noting when I am projecting onto others and when someone else is projecting onto me.

To return to my original hope for my volunteer experience, I also hoped “for greater confidence in my relationship with God.” What a strange thing to hope for, in retrospect. My relationship with God is even more complicated and my spirituality has undergone great change. The most notable change occurred when I was assisting Sr. Teresa during a retreat. While much of the information she was sharing I had already heard countless times because of various classes, one part was brand-new: Balance. While the struggle for balance has been a theme in my life for many years, this was my first time truly looking at what balance means to me. We went through ideas of Benedictine balance (not very balanced), balance as most people would like it (each commitment being equal to every other commitment), and the new balance (not the shoe brand). Teresa’s slide for The New Balance asked just three questions:

Is God part of your life or is God your life?

Is prayer something you do or is prayer an attitude of life?

Is faith what you believe or how you live your life?

In these three questions, my spirituality and understanding of my faith has exploded into a realm of possibility. Moving beyond compartmentalizing, these questions have invited me to do what I already knew: to live fully and completely as I am. I am living my faith by being fully who I am, aware of God’s permeation in everything and everyone, and living in gratefulness and thanksgiving.

Now, while this all sounds interesting, this in no way means that I can definitively say, “Yes, I do that.” I cannot honestly say that God is my life, my attitude is prayer, or that I am truly living my faith always.

But I’m trying.

This is my faith journey, to strive towards these understandings of God, prayer, and faith as my life. Will I ever get there? Perhaps not, but that hardly seems to be the point.

There is a story of an elder monk who is asked by a novice, “So what is it you all do here at the monastery?” The elder monk replies, “We fall down, and we get up. We fall down, and we get up.” The point, in my opinion, is that I continue to get up and try again.

It seems apropos that I end my blog with the same idea that started it: peering beyond my prayer book. Over time, my curiosity has drifted from the people… to a leaf. From where I sit, there is a single leaf that can be seen, presumably attached to a creeping vine. Every prayer time I check to see if my leaf is still there, and through everything, even the craziest weather (like hail and snow in May), the leaf is still there. Over time, I have come to realize that I identify myself with that leaf. At times when I am ready to leave because of the latest ridiculous event, I find myself hoping that the leaf will fly away, away from here and free to soar. At other times, I find myself hoping the leaf will still be there, firmly rooted and connected at a time when I especially need my own rooted and groundedness. One such time occurred at the demise of one of the sisters. Maybe the tenacity of my leaf reflects my own tenacity. I was asked once in the midst of a very difficult time why I stayed. After thinking briefly, I responded that I had made a commitment. I committed to my time here at the Monastery, and I felt that there was still more for me to learn here.

There have been days that I feel like I am living in the middle of “Freaking-Cottonwood- Idaho,” but then there are other days that I am struck by something beautiful that it puts me at a loss for words. Some days I am being told off about something I did or did not do and other days I am laughing over a great story someone told. There have been days that I felt utterly alone and days that I felt perfectly at ease. Through all the drama, chaos, homesickness (mine, not theirs) and menopause (theirs, not mine), something has really changed in me.

Some soul work has truly occurred, and I am so much happier for it.

I have experienced quite a lot of awe-inspiring events over the last few months. Some I was excited to witness, such as Sr. Katie making her solemn profession or a new affiliate and oblates. Some events I would have rather not experienced, namely the funerals of Sr. Mary Bernard and Sr. Emagene. When people ask me how my time has been, my first response has always been, “It’s been an adventure!” In more ways than I can name, it truly has been an adventure, equivalent in my mind to the great life-changing adventures heard about in stories. Yet unlike those tales, this adventure is but one of many and this story is not over yet.

Thanks everyone!