Chapter 7. The number of a Sister.
Louise had a practical task: to embroider her new Sister number in her habit and other personal garments. But even this simple task was not without incident.
Louise was sewing and talking with Sister Jesu Emmanuelle in the parlour when Sister Monica Joan came in. Seeing the task at hand, she asked which number Louise had been given.
The Sister winced at hearing her answer. "But 128 was Sister Bernadette's number." She left the room, apparently chagrined.
Louise looked at Sister Jesu Emmanuelle, somewhat pained. "Who was Sister Bernadette?"
"She was here for a short time, only three years. She died after the war, during the outbreak of Spanish influenza. She was a favourite of Sister Monica Joan's and of many others. I suspect that Mother Ada was training her to be her successor. Of course, one should not appreciate one Sister above the others, but you know Sister Monica Joan."
Louise felt a pang. She was giving all she had to the Sisterhood, yet she felt that she wasn't good enough. Nothing could make her understand Sister Monica and her emotions, not even St Julian. At Sister Monica Joan's age, after the courageous life she had led, you would think that she would be past human jealousies and preferences. But if she could still feel lonely and wounded among her Sisters, how would Louise herself ever survive? Did the calling help you with…with Sisters who… didn't like you? Who wished you were someone else?
Sister Jesu Emmanuelle spoke with gentle determination. "Louise, you should not mind so much. You cannot see ahead; you do not see what is around the next turn in the road. You shouldn't compare yourself so much with other Sisters. You are called as yourself. Sister Monica Joan will come around."
She felt relieved by Sister Jesu Emmanuelle's belief in her. But she wasn't sure that the next question on her mind was proper. It might break the promise of obedience. "Sister Jesu Emmanuelle, I am quite willing to take Sister Bernadette's number. But…"
"Fear not. You shall not take her name. Names are always important personal dedications. I think you have already shown us which name you should carry."
Louise felt a surge of warmth come from deep inside: the gift of love, the simple trust in giving and receiving was burning in her heart, a love aimed at no-one particular, yet stronger than anything she had ever felt for…. anyone. Not even Charles. Surely they were not going to honour her by calling her….
"Sister Julienne. That will be your name. "
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Sister Monica Joan did indeed come around. The next morning, she approached Louise and said: "Please, I wish to apologize. Of course you can have Sister Bernadette's number."
"I am sorry, for your sake. I've heard that Sister Bernadette was a very fine person. "
Sister Monica Joan waved her arm. "Yes, she was. You carry a worthy double heritage. Both the number and the name." She looked into a distance. "But I dare say you will be equal to it. A Sister Julienne, indeed."
She continued, some melancholy in her voice: "A condition of complete simplicity, costing not less than everything." *
Louise looked at Sister Monica frowning a little. "That is a quotation, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. T.S. Eliot. I think you will find that condition of complete simplicity. Your calling will carry you, and it will cost you everything, butut it is a road worth taking."
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A letter and a bouquet of flowers finally arrived from Charles in October. Louise thought it was providential that they arrived on the day when she was leaving for Chichester for her ordination retreat.
"Dear Louise. I was so stubborn that I tried to grow daffodils in a hothouse, just for you. I was going to use these flowers to ask you once more to be my wife. But when the flowers had grown to full bloom, I had changed, or I finally realized that we both have changed, just as you always said. So I send these flowers to you as a farewell. I will never forget you.
All shall be well. God Bless. Charles."
She dried the flowers and put them inside her book of The Revelations of Divine Love.
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She gave her First Promises and stayed at Chichester for six months, after which she was sent back to Poplar as Sister Julienne.
Later, she would cherish one moment as her true homecoming. She had been called out for a birth by Mrs. Clay, the fishmonger's wife. When she returned, she was caught by a quiet, ecstatic mood. She was so happy of her new place in life and in the trust people showed in her.
She entered the clinic room, full of a new sense of purpose.
"Ah, Sister Julienne, you are back. How was it at the Clays? "Sister Evangelina asked, not noticing Sister Julienne's new radiance.
"All very well, Sister Evangelina. The second stage went very quickly and Mrs. Clay now has a healthy baby boy."
Sister Monica Joan started to comment: "Wasn't this her third child?" Then she stopped and recognised Sister Julienne's glow.
The new Sister smiled at her and said with trembling voice: "I have come home, Sister Monica Joan. I have come home to be counted."
Sister Julienne seemed not to be aware that she was still carrying the packet of fish that Mr. Clay had given to her as a token of his gratitude.
Sister Monica Joan raised her eyebrows. She went to take that packet of fish. "Let us put down the fish. It is superfluous to the situation." Then Sister Monica Joan embraced her: "Welcome home, Sister Julienne."
*T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding, the last lines
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always-
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flames are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.
