“Why didn’t they want to keep me?” Megan asked.
The old priest said gently, “They wanted to very much, Megan, but they were old and ill.”
“Why do you suppose my real parents left me at that farm?”
“I’m sure it was because they were poor and couldn’t afford to keep you.”
As Megan grew up, she became more and more devout. She was stirred by the intellectual aspects of the Catholic Church. She read St. Augustine’s Confessions, the writings of St. Francis of Assisi, Thomas More, Thomas Merton, and a dozen others. Megan went to church regularly, and she enjoyed the solemn rituals, mass, receiving communion, Benediction. Perhaps most of all, she loved the wonderful feeling of serenity that always stole over her in church.
“I want to become a Catholic,” Megan told Father Berrendo one day.
He took her hand in his and said with a twinkle, “Perhaps you are already, Megan, but we’ll hedge our bets.
“Dost thou believe in God the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth?”
“Yes, I believe!”
“Dost thou believe in Jesus Christ, His only son, who was born and suffered?”
“Yes, I believe!”
“Dost thou believe in the Holy Spirit, in the Holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the remission of sins, the resurrection of the body and eternal life?”
“Yes, I believe!”
The priest blew gently into her face. “Exi ab ea, spiritus immunde. Depart from her, thou impure spirit, and give place to the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete.” He breathed again into her face. “Megan, receive the good Spirit through this breathing and receive the blessing of God. Peace be with thee.”
At fifteen Megan had become a beautiful young woman, with long blond hair and a milky complexion that set her off even more from most of her companions.
One day she was summoned to the office of Mercedes Angeles. Father Berrendo was there.
“Hello, Father.”
“Hello, my dear Megan.”
Mercedes Angeles said, “I’m afraid we have a problem, Megan.”
“Oh?” She wracked her brain, trying to remember her latest misdeed.
The headmistress went on: “There is an age limit here of fifteen, and you’ve reached your fifteenth birthday.”
Megan had long known of the rule, of course. But she had put it in the back of her mind, because she did not want to face the fact that she had nowhere in the world to go, that no one wanted her, and that she was going to be abandoned once again.
“Do I—do I have to leave?”
The kindly Amazon was upset, but she had no choice. “I’m afraid we must abide by the rules. We can find a position for you as a maid.”
Megan had no words.
Father Berrendo spoke. “Where would you like to go?”
As she thought about it, an idea came to Megan. There was somewhere for her to go.
From the time Megan was twelve years old, she had helped earn her keep at the orphanage by making outside deliveries in town, and many of them were made to the Cistercian convent. They were always delivered to the Reverend Mother Betina. Megan had sneaked glimpses of the nuns while they were praying or walking through the halls, and she had sensed in them an almost overpowering feeling of serenity. She had envied the joy that the nuns seemed to radiate. To Megan, the convent seemed a house of love.
The Reverend Mother had taken a liking to the bright young girl, and they had had long talks over the years.
“Why do people join convents?” Megan had once asked.
“People come to us for many reasons. Most come to dedicate themselves to God. But some come because they have no hope. We give them hope. Some come because they feel they have no reason to live. We show them that God is the reason. Some come because they are running away. Others come here because they feel alienated and they want to belong.”
That was what had struck a responsive chord in the young girl. I’ve never really belonged to anyone, Megan thought. This is my chance.
“I think I would like to join the convent.”
Six weeks later, she took her vows.