I am living with a nun. At first I was worried. Really worried. As I wrote before, I don’t really have faith in god and I don’t adhere to the tenants of the Catholic Church. Mainly, I was concerned that I would have to justify my lack of faith or I would have to listen while she attempted to bring me back into the fold. So it certainly surprised me just how much I like the woman whose home I am sharing. In fact, I admire her quite a bit.
She is amazing. She entered the convent at age 18. In her early thirties she moved to Bolivia and lived there for sixteen years. As part of her work in South America, she helped set up a vocational school that taught typing as well as sewing and other practical skills. She feels that priests should be allowed to marry if they desire and she also thinks that divorce is sometimes necessary. She is a self-proclaimed rebel. She calls me dear and for some reason I find that very comforting.
So far, my favorite story she has shared with me is about the first time she left for Bolivia. At the time, nuns were still expected to wear the habit. As soon as she entered the airport, she stuffed her habit in the nearest trashcan! How cool is that?!