Chapter 1: AMINA

             In life, there are times you have been challenged to identify the mysteries of how people spread the message and how it significantly affects the way they live because of what they hear and how they believe in. No one knew exactly why each of us has the perception that varies from one another and to the point this becomes the reason of agreement or misunderstanding.

            No one knew exactly why each of us has the perception created inside about how we embrace the belief that either break us or make us.

            Let me tell you my story and how my life has changed in the way how gossip ruled the progress in the narrative arc of my journey and how my choice leads me to where I would be and I will never forget the pain who becomes the reason of becoming a nun.

            Come what may and I know how hard it is to make a step of having a new chapter of my life despite my mess I had made in the past. Not because I wanted to clean up my mistakes but because God calls me to renew my perspectives in this world of unpredictable unfolding of events in everyone’s life. It’s okay. I just need to stay truthful and faithful to my decision.

            My skin is getting a little numb and my feet are fidgeting because of the AC which gets colder but I can feel this would be a great place to be with especially no one would condemn you nor try to recount all your past mistakes. Wait, it’s 9:45 A.M. and any moment from now, the secretary would call me as I have been here almost thirty minutes.

         “Amina Salvador,” a woman in silk white dress holding my application called my name.

         “Yes, Sister.” I gently raised my hand.

          “All right, I am Sister Glenda. Please follow me as I lead you to the Spiritual Director for your interview.” Her eyes are celestial and those pupils are beaming like those in the galaxy so infinite and innocent. Her voice is soothing and makes me feel that she is approachable and friendly.

         “Thank you, Sister Glenda.” I follow her.

          I continue walking and see photos lining up on the wall with different former religious directress in the convent. Below the wall are the statues of saints who projected the expressions of their salvific ministry.

          Sister Glenda knocks the glass-made door and slowly turns the knob and enters the office of the Convent Directress.

         “Sister Avery, Good morning, our applicant for religious sisterhood is already here.” Sister Glenda informs.

          The room is well-lit and it seems I would meet heaven—the scent is refreshing and the table, the sofa, the in-door plants, the carpet before my eyes, the antique jar, the cylinder-shape candle flickering beside a crucifix—those bring me amazement as my feet march inside the office of the directress.

         “Amina?” Sister Glenda taps my shoulder.

          My senses bring me to the reality as I recognize her voice. “My apology, Sister.”

          The executive black leather-type high back   chair swivels and Sister Avery finally meets my eyes. My heart throbs fast but I smile with my voice in submission to her. Her eyelashes are waves in the ocean soft and long, eyes are deep and dark, and her hands are white as snow despite her age in the twilight of years.

          “Good morning, Sister. I am Amina Salvador.” I hear my voice trembling but I try to appear professional in front of her.

            Sister Glenda turns in my paper on the table where Sister Avery is positioned. She gently bows her head and slowly exits the room.

            “Good morning, dear. I have been doing so many things for the outreach programs we will have by next month. Anyway, my pleasure to meet you, Amina.”

           “I am happy to be here, Sister.” I smile.

           Sister Avery picks up my paper laid on her table and starts to probe what details she can ask from me. I can still see her eyelashes so exquisite to look at yet behind those are eyes of years serving the ministry dedicated to God.

           “Are you really sure, Amina?” she confirms,” you wanted to live your life in the calling of selfless availability on the mission to serve God completely?

           “Yes, Sister Avery.” I answer. I look at her because I know this will be a new chapter of life to me.

           She continues flipping my application forms. “Have you been wounded in the past or have been in a relationship that broke your heart so you decided to enter the religious community and become one of us?” there is audacity behind the texture of her tone as she finishes the question.

         “At some point in my life, Sister, I had experienced to fall in love with someone whom I thought to be the man who would make me realize the essence of true love, who promised to give me the joy to be loved despite my imperfections.” My eyes are watered with tears and slowly wet my cheeks. I dig my hand inside my pocket and immediately wipe the dew from my face.

         “Amina, I may now know what happened and how your past has caused you a lot of difficulties but I wanted to listen to you story for this will be your strength and reconciliation to your present time by embracing the reality of newness of you, inside of you is a soul with the fighting spirit molding you to become the person today.”

        She speaks in as much as she wants to listens to my story. She smiles and looks me straight in the eyes.

        “What is it you want me to know about you?” she comfortably pushes her chair a bit in front of her table and puts aside the form and lies her hands down on the glass table.

       “Sister, I want you to know….”

The telephone rings beside her table and she excuses herself for a moment.

       “Sister Avery, speaking. Good morning.” Her voice seems to be at her fifties but there is wisdom cloaked inside her way of dealing with people.

“All right, just send those proposals to my e-mail and I am elated to meet those children with disability on Thursday.” She smiles as she bids the other person on the phone.

         I do not know if I am prepared to share with her the story I have kept hidden in the last years. I know this will be the chance for me to understand more the meaning and purpose of living a renewed life in the hands of God and I know that this be a new life, a new beginning with me here in the convent and no matter what will happen my conscience, my spirituality will always be my guide.

          Lord, guide me to whatever decisions you have set before me, and let your will manifest in such a way you want me to glorify your presence.

          “Amina, are you okay? “ Sister Avery wakes me up momentarily as I am staring blankly at the wall.

       “Sorry, Sister,” I grin a bit, feeling nervous as to how she looks at me.

       “You must be tired, after 12-hour travel from you live,” she looks at the address where I used to live,” better you will go first to your room and have some rest and reflection.”

       She fixes her things on the table. There might be an important meeting which is scheduled for Sister Avery.

      “I will just set another time for you and I forgot I have an urgent meeting to attend. No worries, I am glad you came to my office and I would be pleased to call you back as Sister Glenda will give you an orientation about the guidelines here in the convent.”

     I stand up. “No problem, Sister. I am so happy to have welcomed me by your kindness.”

    “I need to go, Amina. I mean, Sister Amina.”

     I quietly go out from her office and hear the tip-tap of her footsteps going down the hall.

     “Amina, you will be guided by our working student to where your assigned room will be.”

     “Thank you, Sister Glenda.”

      I follow Sister Glenda to the hall and she leaves me alone. This has been century-old monastery and the structures are designed in old-fashion architecture yet this place has shared transformations to people who wanted to know the Lord in their lives. The huge curtains are swaying back and forth as if they were dancing in the rhythm of the refreshing blow of the window as I am waiting for the person whom Sister Glenda had told me.

     I get closer to the windows and stare at the vastness of the mountains reaching the seashore. I take another stroll and find myself outside the balcony. I feel the coolness of the wind, and the strands of my hair gently fly above my shoulder. I place my shoulders across each other and drops of dew have landed on my face, and notice my dress gets wet.

     “Hey!”  I look up and see a teenager watering the plants on the third floor. “I hope you will check whoever is here.”

     “My apology, Mam.” A manly voice reaches my ears, his name Sebastian, one of the youngest working students in the monastery.

     I don't say any word which might be heard by sisters around. “Just be careful next time, Sir.” I uttered.

      I look up again and he vanishes. ‘Where does he go?’ 

      I hear running steps and see him carrying a towel for me.

     “Mam, I am so sorry.” He hands me a towel.

     “How long have you been here?” I ask as I dry up my hair and my arms.

     “Just a month I have started working as assistant plant maintenance.” He lowers his eyes as he speaks to me. His lanky frame and Arabian countenance make me wonder if he has a foreign blood.

     “Is your parent a foreigner?” I asked.

     “Yes, Mam, my dad is Palestinian and I did not have the chance to meet him.”

     “Sebastian!” a voice afar reaches the balcony, “the water hose you forget again to close!”

     “That’s Sister Beatrice.” As he hurriedly excuses himself as he goes back to his station.

     I sit a moment and wait for the working to guide me to my room. I check my wrist watch and it’s past fifteen of eleven in the morning.

     “Hi, Ma’am Amina, “a small rounded lady carrying keys approaches me, “ I am Amor, one of the working staff here. I am pleased to take you to your room.”

     I blink as few left drops glided on my eyelashes. “Sure, which way do we go?” I ask.

     “On the third floor, room 317, Mam Amina.”

     I pick my things and follow her steps.

     She stays quiet all the way to the third floor. Silence is sacred in this place which my breathing can only be heard.

     “Mam, this will be your room.” She turns on the light and a single-bed is near the small toilet. “I will be back Mam Amina to prepare for your lunch at 11:45 A.M.” then, she gives me the room key.

     The room is deafening and there is an essence of emptiness as my feet lead me inside, the crucifix hangs on the wall, a small table with the Holy Scripture lay open, and its right is the wardrobe cabinet—the smell of a thousand years.

     I put down my things and sit the white silky cotton bedsheet which gives so much comfortability as I run my fingers forward feeling the soft texture of it.

     A gentle knock on the door reaches my ears. I get closer and turn the knob, “Good morning, Mam Amina, I am Karen, working student in the convent. Sister Avery would like to see you by 1 P.M in her office told by Sister Glenda.

    “Thank you, Karen.” I reply, opening the door wide. She seems to be at her 40s and had mentioned she is a working student. I am amazed how this woman still pursues her dream regardless her age. How I wish this will be an inspiration to others to do the same thing that is to finish their education journey.

    “Mam Amina, would you like to take your lunch already? The food is served by 12 noon at the hall.” Karen reminds, keeping her hands in the pocket.

    “Sure, what time is it now?” I realize that I forgot to bring my wristwatch as I hurriedly left the boarding house early in the morning and my phone gets an empty battery.

     “It is almost 12 noon, Mam Amina.” She smiles, appearing her deep dimple on the right face.

     I gently smile back. “Stop calling me, Mam. You can just call me Amina.” I tell her this because she is older and she seems to be my mother’s age.

    As we reach toward the mess hall, four-seated rounded tables made from glass and metals coated by white welcome us with freshly-cooked rice and assorted dishes—causing my gastro clamor.

     “This way, Mam Amina,” Karen directs me to the table. I thank her as my steps are calculated just not to make any noise. I sit straight, and smile to the working placing a new set of viand in the center aisle.

      My glance reaches to the crowd lining up in silence as each of them is getting inside the mess hall. These must be students having their retreats here. Then, a facilitator with a cross necklace stands in front and starts to instruct the retreatants to rise as prayer for the meal will be graced.

      “In the name of the Father, and of the son, and of the Holy Spirit,” he motions his gesture, and recites the prayer, eyes closed.

        As everyone sits, the smell of the shrimp soup with its rich variety of onions, string beans, water spinach,  tomatoes, banana peppers, radishes, taro, ladies’ finger with fish sauce that add extra flavor on it, and the signature sour taste coming from tamarind  teases my nostril, and the view of different Filipino dishes is served in different plates.

        Another is the crunchy pan-fried marinated milkfish pickled vegetables, and small container of spicy vinegar. Beside is an appetizer Kilawin garnished with chili peppers, garlic, onions, onions washed in vinegar; a tinolang tahong—another soup of a little neck clams and mussel shells served with spinach and red pepper flakes to have bit of kick of it. Fruits—oranges, banana, apples, papaya are displayed in the other side of the table.

        I scoop a cup of rice onto my plate, and have my first sip of soup from Tinolang Tahong, my dried tongue is washed with the tasty burst of the soup, and it makes my lungs expand to satisfaction.

        I notice the clamps are mostly closed and they look shiny stones except for their corrugated textures. I look around how to open their bivalves. How could the chef cook these without having the consideration if these clams will be eaten in ease?

        I handle the clam gently since I am alone on the table and feel the hinge at the back of clam, it is constricted and I try to find ways how shuck it. Sturdy, rough, and herculean task to unlock this. What I did next makes the silence of the hall intriguing, head turned, eyes pierced, and everything goes in motion, and everyone stares at me.

        I suddenly stop what I am doing. I realize that I am making noise coming from the spoon that I use for the clams to open.

       A bead of sweat appears on my forehead; I lower my gaze, and discreetly swallow a extracellular fluid from my glands, I could not believe what confusion is created the noise I make.

       I feel a touch from my shoulder, soft hold.

      “Amina, against the base of your thumb, hold the clam, with one side put a little pressure into the meat of your thumb and the hinge angled upwards.” Sister Glenda instructs me. I did not she was at my back.

      “Thank you, Sister Glenda,” I smile even my heart skips fast. There are stares from the students I felt ashamed. But it doesn’t bother me at all. I feel a bit bothered though. I just need to observe decorum.

      Sister Glenda goes back to her seat together with other religious sisters.

      The silence of the hall is replaced by the noise of the students. Some even forget the basic rules and laugh even harder.

      Taps resonate around the room as Sister Glenda gently hits the glass of water. “Silence, please.” The noise gradually subsided.

      I keep on eating and make sure I would not make any undesired attention from others. Having finished my meal, I go directly to the lavatory and place the plates, utensils, and glass I had used. I wash, rinse, and dry my hands and arms using the towel.

      This activity given to me is a self-directed retreat and a time for me to discern what most in life that is having a direct connection to God and it is my hope God will make whole again after all those things I had done in the past. This may not be easy especially my mess tainted by gruesome narrative wallows so much dirt even to my inner being. This is it. I won’t give up on this decision I have called for myself being a religious nun who will serve, love, and guide the new generation with the compassionate and dignity to the humanity.

      I wonder how my life seems to be wearing those immaculate dresses of those religious sisters enjoying their silence and composure. Sister Glenda approaches me again. “Amina, Sister Avery would like to see you in the office later at 1:30 in the afternoon.”

      Before she steps back and goes back to her seats, I express my gratitude to her. 

      “Sister Glenda, thank you for helping me out how to shuck the clams.”

       She smiles and taps my shoulder, “I just want to help you.” My chest moves up and swooshes down as my breath releases a graceful sigh.

       “Sister, thank you. I pray that this journey I will have with you in the convent will bring me closer to what God wills for me.”

       “When God decides, no one can ever stop what He wills. I believe you will be enjoying here but you know it takes a lot of responsibilities to be a nun. Here in Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the core values we emulate are freedom, charity, education, and justice. We pursue simplicity and selflessness to the last, least, and lost.”

         I am lost and least. These words become me today. I am still recovering, and wounds are still open and hurting me. I do not know how long it takes. However, this decision I make today brings me freedom and justice. I believe there is no bad person just a wrong decision which make me stand firm that no matter what your past is as long as you are willing to embrace change anchored to God’s ways then you can be a better person, I sigh as I smile to her.

         “I am enlightened by your sharing, Sister.” I see hope from those eyes every time I look at her. Her gentleness and sweet voice soothe me in the inside.

        She walks back as if no noise can linger around her steps and the grace, the decorum; the demure she projects are what I admire the most as a nun in progress. I pray to God to give me the courage and wisdom to go on no matter how challenging the responsibilities, the duties, and the missions as part of the religious communities will be as long as I know my purpose, my reason, and my principles are.

         I stare at the rounded wall clock and check what time is it: 12: 30 noontime.

         The groups of students slowly move to their designated rooms to have their brief breaks. Nostalgic memories visit my mind how I used to be like them remembering how naughty my batch mate was after we graduated from high school.

          I direct my path towards my room, and my heart skips a bit when sudden outburst of thunder guffaws the entire convent, and the windows sway back and forth along the laborious blow of the wind.

          There might be typhoon coming, I think.

          I continue walking; the silence of the hallway is disturbed by the emerging sound of downpour outside. Pelting humming of the rain becomes the music to my ears as each step I make towards assigned room.

          Portraits of the distant past hang in every corner the images of the past administration of this convent are displayed evenly; dust occupies the frame and their grave looks seem to be a custom during those days they had.

          I look up and notice there’s another floor yet locked up with bars which seem to be gate. The metals are shiny and just seem to be newly installed, and my thoughts wonder what is behind those bars.

         I stretch my neck up and try to glimpse but what I see is dark hall like a blind tunnel kept hidden in the eyes of the modern times. Perhaps one day I would explore what lies inside that floor, I have told myself.

        In the corner where I am standing is a peculiar sound, my heart starts to pound. What I heard from this convent, this was used as hidden place of wounded soldiers--conflict between Spaniards and Filipino, despite their skirmish hatred one another; they were still brought here to be cured and taken good care of. Unvisited demise were buried and left unknown throughout the centuries.

        I go back to my senses and check where the noise is coming from. In a dimly lit room open ajar, I push gently the door, hinge is creaking. My heart is pounding causing my forehead drip beads of sweat despite the coldness and silence of the hall.

       Perhaps the narratives are true, and I will be witnessing with my own eyes how they will be uncovered. Fresh stain of blood is tainted on the floor leading to the dark corner of the room.

       “Hello!” I must be alone here. “A few blood splattering on the mat.” I need to check this out. I am looking for the switch where I can turn on the light, too dim. I move forward while my hands crawling on the wall. The noise keeps on disturbing me.

       “Ahhh!!” the fear confronts me as the dark shadow morphs into a shiny dark cat whose eyes are seafoam, munching its own babies stares at me steadily. The cat jumps over her dead kittens, and carries a meaty meal from her mouth and goes out.

        The light turns on. My heart calms down but I find myself sitting on the floor.

       “Are you okay, Mam Amina?” as Sebastian the one I met this morning appear, offering his hand whose arms are chiseled by workout.

       I hold his hands and bring me up and fix my hair—sweaty and unkempt.

       “I heard unusual noise here and I probed what it was.” My voice trembles but I regain my strength.

       “This last room on the third floor is usually unoccupied and it is rarely used. Cockroaches, rodents, and cats usually stay here under the bed. But we clean this area once in a while,” Sebastian shares, holding dustpan and cleaning stick rods.

      “But have you heard anything strange around the convent?” I ask, staring at his eyes similar to the cat I saw a while ago.

      “I usually have heard them but I have faith in God, though they seem existing displaced, but they need prayers to keep them in solace,” he says, making his voice deep which chills my spine.

      “Will you be a nun soon, Ma’am Amina?” he asks but I have not introduced yet my name to him. Perhaps, Sister Glenda has mentioned about me to the working staff.

      I smile. “How did you know my name?” I just want to confirm.

      “When individuals come to visit and stay here, Sister Glenda mentions them to us so we can a personal level of connection with them.” He grins.

     “Impressive. That would make me see how you are treated well here.” I respond.

     “Opo! In fact we are great family here in the convent though sometimes there are misunderstandings among us; we do our best to settle them as Sisters here have taught the value of respect and forgiveness.” he says.

    I observe how kind and thoughtful this young man is. His personality seems alike to Jayden, my past boyfriend five years ago.

   Never mind, what is important I will be living my life away from my past story.

   “Shall I excuse myself, Sister?” he asks.

   “Just call me, Mina. Don’t call me yet Sister. I am still in the training to be one.” I smile.

    He starts to clean the room especially where the mess, the torn flesh of the kittens are lying down.

    I check my watch, and it says 1:15 P.M.

              I leave Sebastian and go back to my room; and powder up to look fresh and clean in front of Sister Avery. I stare at the Bible, the rosary, the cross lying on the table, reflecting to the divine purpose I will have here in the convent. I still feel anxious as to how I will explain to Sister Avery my past life, and how she would react how I had really messed up with my past relationship, with my mother, and with father, and to those I left unforgiving wounds to the memories I had. Hope is the only light that guides my path in the dark tunnel of my life now. I need to take action to immerse myself into a new blessing and make me the person God wants me to be and be of service to his will, not my will.  

    1: 25 P.M. I wait outside the office of the spiritual director, Sister Avery.

    My feet are fidgeting and I try to calm down by placing my hands on my laps. I do not know if she is already inside the office and Sister Glenda is not yet here. Perhaps she is doing something else.

   There seems to be no one in the office, but for sure the presence of Sister Avery is as quiet as the sleeping cat. It’s already 1:28 P.M. my watch says.

    The office outside is made of clouded glass yet the sliding door is framed with metal and the surface reflects to whoever stands here. I stand and heavily inhale and exhale.

     I knock thrice and turn the knob. Fresh and cold feeling welcome to the office of Sister Avery, making me feel more nervous but I can manage this for I know my purpose of being here. Whatever she asks and wants to know about me, I will be honest and just to her.

     “Sister, good afternoon.” I slid the door open. My face tightens as the coldness in her office welcomes me.

     “Welcome, please sit down.” Sister Avery extends her hand to where I will be sitting.

     “I am happy to see you again, Amina.” Sister projects brightness from her smile.

     “Me, too, Sister Avery,” I reply, placing my two hands on my laps.

     “How is your stay so far?” Sister asks, getting something from her desk and putting them on her table in front of me.

     “I enjoy the place, Sister and this convent has been in service for quite some time.”

     “Yes, in fact 160 years old to be exact.” She smiles. By the way, I have called you to give you the instructions on what you will be doing in the convent as you will be exposed to different spiritual activities as part of your religious journey with us. However, I want to know you more by knowing your background. Being a nun is giving out her life free from the bondage of the past and starting a new life unfurling new responsibilities to serve the community.”

    My heart beat increases as the temperature gets higher in the cold. I scrub my arms and Sister Avery notices me.

    She stands up and gets slower to the Air-condition and lowers its temperature. 

    “You must feel cold,” Sister Avery tells me as goes back to her seat.

     “Thanks, Sister.” I inhale discreetly and smile at her.

     I notice a half-body shadow of someone outside from the glass. Perhaps it would have been Sister Glenda. The shadow disappears.

    “Amina Salvador,” she probes my document,” what makes you decide to be a nun?”

    There is so much curiosity blended to her tongue as she pronounces my full name.

     “Sister,” I exhale as though I am about to let go of my past,” I am a product of a dysfunctional family, felt in love with the wrong person whom I thought to be my destiny but it turned out to be a wrong decision.” My heart skips fast. I lower my gaze as sorrow envelopes me.

     Sister Avery’s eyes meet me in despair.

     “Sister, not because I want to change my past, but I desire God to change me.” I look at her with my eyes seeing hope with my present moment.

     “I am listening, Amina,” her words tasted by a slice of concern.

     “Sister, I want to be like you serving the Lord despite my past, and I am here to seek help from you and guide me to spiritual restoration.”

     My eyes are now watered with tears trickling down my cheeks.

     “Amina, I am ready to hear your stories.” Her voice seems to seek truth behind the tears I shed. This is how my story started. A strike of thunder growls in the distance.