The Nun Thing

Once, long ago, I worked for a church. Actually, the position I am remembering was the culmination of a degree in youth ministry, several part time youth ministry jobs, having a talent for computers, writing, and layouts, and needing a full-time job. Yes, I was a church secretary.

Maybe I should have known that taking a church secretary position wouldn't result in the ordination I was really hoping for. Maybe I should have realized before taking the position that all church secretaries are supposed to have husbands who bring in the real money, since church secretaries earn squat. But I didn't. It fulfilled a few values that were dear to me at the time: using my creativity at work, being in a gentle environment, helping build a community I believed in. And by default, it encouraged my faux passion for living simply.

After three years, I left that position. There were many reasons. One was the dawning realization that no matter the enlightenment of the people you work with, there is a glass ceiling between secretaries and ministers -- even though the best secretaries see themselves as ministers. A second was the growing realization that the "gentle environment" I'd craved was a function of not being ready to deal with my sexuality, and I was ready to begin to explore that. A third was realizing that I didn't want to spend my life making the kind of money I was making. I wanted to have the money to choose simplicity... or not. A fourth was the painful experience of working with someone who was trying to get me fired, while at the same time being asked by a friend to apply at her company.

But the straw that broke the camel's back happened over my last Christmas at the church.

My sister married a Russian man she'd fallen in love with while working in Uzbekistan. They chose to move back to Colorado to start their family, and entered the names of his relatives in the immigration lottery. My brother-in-law's brother was the first to win a place, and he moved his family here too. I call them "the Russian in-laws".

This particular Christmas celebration, we'd gathered at my parents' place. My parents, me, my brother, my sister and her family, and the Russian in-laws all gathered around the tree for the gift exchange. And my gift from the Russian in-laws was a large cross key chain and a portrait of a depressed-looking nun with the words "God bless this home" on it.

When I got around the disappointment and I tried to imagine the information they knew about me. Single girl in her late 20's, plain dressing, distant, works at a church... I realized they thought I was a nun... and that it was a reasonable assumption based on what I was doing at the time. However, being a nun wasn't what I wanted. I am not called to celibacy and poverty of body or spirit doesn't sound very appealing either.

So, I took the next opportunity to apply to my friend's workplace and was out of there in less than a month.

Over the next 5 years, I came out, began studying martial arts, took a break from church, changed my wardrobe, learned I was capable of earning much more than I'd ever be paid at church, fell in love and out of love a few times, and generally grew up.

But just this morning a friend wrote and said, "You know, as I was waking up this morning, I realized you remind me of one of those plain-clothes nuns from Catholic school."

Really. I have tried to be different.