easier. Seems like. I mean, now I’m not too sure yet. I’ve been sick so long.
I think the beautiful thing is praising God. And you’re called to that seven times a day and at night. But that’s the hardest. That was the hardest for me because I had to break my sleep. And I couldn’t. I had a hard time adjusting to that. In fact, I thought they were going to send me home because of that. I just slept. In fact, I still do at Mass because I couldn’t break the sleep. It wasn’t my cycle. Anyway, I had a hard time with that. I guess you have a hard time with everything when you first enter. Well, I think you just think more of God, what He got out of you. It wasn’t much. And pleasing Him and praising Him—and you’re happy that you were able, that He let you do that. Nobody else can take the time. And it’s not so much the work; the work is more of a penance. Any poor person has to work, and so that’s part of the life. But that’s part of the life in the world, too. I would have had the same trouble. Had the same, maybe more….
A lot of it was to find out that you are your biggest enemy. Yourself. To realize that took a long time. I was pretty critical of others, and you think, “Well, they shouldn’t be doing that. They shouldn’t be doing that.’ ” You have to look, “Well, am I always on time? Am I always … ? No.” When you really try to see yourself, you realize they’re doing pretty good. And, you know, in sickness and everything else, they can keep going. And can you? No.
From within the same fourteen acres, Sister Joan Marie’s perspective on the world, herself, and God have changed. “You get a different view of things,” she says. “The whole thing is terrific, sort of like what God must feel sometimes. You take in the whole world. I think you kind of get God’s view of things, because you see all these terrible things to pray for. There’s plenty to pray for. It’s a wonder He doesn’t destroy us, but He loves us. Loved usall. Love makes it seem easy. And it was easy, when you think of it, compared to what He did for us—the crucifixion. We didn’t have to go through that. Nobody could. Nobody could. Really, He spoils us more or less. We’re spoiled little children, especially us, because we’re in the cloister, because we’re His, because we belong to Him entirely. We gave everything up for Him. I guess He spoils us in many ways.”
Sister Joan Marie lists what she calls her “consolations”: The monastery’s pet dogs that “keep us going,” along with a cat that turned up in the dump-ster. These are some of the ways that God has provided. Sister Joan Marie adds that the nuns do find joy in their lives. “When we celebrate we really celebrate,” she says. “There’s no limit. I mean, according to our life, there’s no limits.”
Still, she does not think she can ever expect, in this lifetime, to acclimate to the rigid structure and the severe Rule of Saint Clare. “It’s just a supernatural life and it’s not natural,” Sister Joan Marie says. “You would rather live a natural life. The body would rather sleep when it wants to sleep and forget the bells. It’s just so different. You really have to have a supernatural outlook; otherwise, you can’t persevere. And you have to keep it. You know, you have to somehow realize that there is an afterlife and you’re going to get rewarded. And it’s going to be nice. It’s going to be wonderful. All your dreams are going to come true, but not until you die. You have to die first.”
Called
Sister Maria Deo Gratias of the Most Blessed Sacrament
My mom was a re-weaver. She mended clothes at home. She went to school when she was sixteen in Milwaukee to learn this trade. It wasn’t real common. Most of the people that called themselves re-weavers didn’t really re-weave the cloth. She was a re-weaver in the true sense of the word, in that she re-wove cloth that she’d take apart from the hem. Under the
I think the beautiful thing is praising God. And you’re called to that seven times a day and at night. But that’s the hardest. That was the hardest for me because I had to break my sleep. And I couldn’t. I had a hard time adjusting to that. In fact, I thought they were going to send me home because of that. I just slept. In fact, I still do at Mass because I couldn’t break the sleep. It wasn’t my cycle. Anyway, I had a hard time with that. I guess you have a hard time with everything when you first enter. Well, I think you just think more of God, what He got out of you. It wasn’t much. And pleasing Him and praising Him—and you’re happy that you were able, that He let you do that. Nobody else can take the time. And it’s not so much the work; the work is more of a penance. Any poor person has to work, and so that’s part of the life. But that’s part of the life in the world, too. I would have had the same trouble. Had the same, maybe more….
A lot of it was to find out that you are your biggest enemy. Yourself. To realize that took a long time. I was pretty critical of others, and you think, “Well, they shouldn’t be doing that. They shouldn’t be doing that.’ ” You have to look, “Well, am I always on time? Am I always … ? No.” When you really try to see yourself, you realize they’re doing pretty good. And, you know, in sickness and everything else, they can keep going. And can you? No.
From within the same fourteen acres, Sister Joan Marie’s perspective on the world, herself, and God have changed. “You get a different view of things,” she says. “The whole thing is terrific, sort of like what God must feel sometimes. You take in the whole world. I think you kind of get God’s view of things, because you see all these terrible things to pray for. There’s plenty to pray for. It’s a wonder He doesn’t destroy us, but He loves us. Loved usall. Love makes it seem easy. And it was easy, when you think of it, compared to what He did for us—the crucifixion. We didn’t have to go through that. Nobody could. Nobody could. Really, He spoils us more or less. We’re spoiled little children, especially us, because we’re in the cloister, because we’re His, because we belong to Him entirely. We gave everything up for Him. I guess He spoils us in many ways.”
Sister Joan Marie lists what she calls her “consolations”: The monastery’s pet dogs that “keep us going,” along with a cat that turned up in the dump-ster. These are some of the ways that God has provided. Sister Joan Marie adds that the nuns do find joy in their lives. “When we celebrate we really celebrate,” she says. “There’s no limit. I mean, according to our life, there’s no limits.”
Still, she does not think she can ever expect, in this lifetime, to acclimate to the rigid structure and the severe Rule of Saint Clare. “It’s just a supernatural life and it’s not natural,” Sister Joan Marie says. “You would rather live a natural life. The body would rather sleep when it wants to sleep and forget the bells. It’s just so different. You really have to have a supernatural outlook; otherwise, you can’t persevere. And you have to keep it. You know, you have to somehow realize that there is an afterlife and you’re going to get rewarded. And it’s going to be nice. It’s going to be wonderful. All your dreams are going to come true, but not until you die. You have to die first.”
Called
Sister Maria Deo Gratias of the Most Blessed Sacrament
My mom was a re-weaver. She mended clothes at home. She went to school when she was sixteen in Milwaukee to learn this trade. It wasn’t real common. Most of the people that called themselves re-weavers didn’t really re-weave the cloth. She was a re-weaver in the true sense of the word, in that she re-wove cloth that she’d take apart from the hem. Under the
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