Falling From Grace

I thought about entering the convent.

No, seriously, I did. I prayed on it for at least a year. I listened very closely to see if I had "a calling". From the time I was 9 until I was about 12, I was ultra-religious.

I watched religious movies about saints and martyrs. I considered cutting my long hair very short so I could wear the headgear required to be a nun. The nuns at my school wore old fashioned habits and I loved those long black garments. I relished the idea of being a "Bride of Christ", but there was a catch.

There was no way I was giving up my high heel shoes. I got my first pair of heels for my 12th birthday. My dad took me shopping, and from mental exhaustion from listening to me plead, he finally let me buy a straight skirt and a pair of black pumps.

My mother was not pleased, but I certainly was. I still viewed myself as a candidate for the convent, but I had to find out about the shoe situation before I made a final commitment.

I talked to my spiritual counselor, a nun who was in her early 20's named Sister Geraldine. She wore black, flat heeled shoes that looked like they should be worn by a man. I explained to Sister Geraldine that I was almost certain I had a calling to become a nun, except I would not wear the kind of shoes she wore. I asked if the Church ever made exceptions for things like that.

Sister Geraldine told me that if I was so concerned with matters of vanity, perhaps I did not have a calling after all. While I found her remarks very disappointing, I certainly did not want to be a bride to anyone who would not share my appreciation for high heeled shoes.

The following year brought about several major changes. My family moved and I transferred to a public junior high school for the 8th grade. I turned 13 in January of that school session and I went to my first dance. (Yes, I wore my high heeled shoes.) A boy named Tyrone asked me to dance. He was tall and very thin. I really liked the way it felt to have a boy's arms around me, and I really liked being a little taller and more grown up in my high heels.

I went home and said a quick prayer telling Jesus I was sorry. I had changed my mind about being a bride of Christ.

And frankly, I've never looked back.