June 23, 1961, was the day I entered the convent and became a postulant nun

In this photo, I had just changed from street clothes into the postulant garb. I don’t know what paper was in my hands, but I’m sure it was in shreds within the hour.

The viewer can interpret the photo. My stomach ached and my head was in a swirl.

I can’t see my family in the chapel, but I know they were in the crowd.

I was so nervous my hands were shaking, my knees were about to buckle, and my face was burning up.

After the ceremony, I was called Sister Mary Greta, no longer Gretchen.

I dressed in a white habit for a year, to honor my marriage to God as a Bride of Christ as a novice nun.

Following the ceremony, I spent the afternoon with family and friends. Unaccustomed to visitors, I was all smiles.

But I was truly overwhelmed from the chaos of marriage, ceremony, invasion of people, and entrenchment in the convent.

I exchanged the white veil for a black one, signifying that I had professed vows for three years. The full habit changed from white to ivory.

Beginning my career as a nineteen year old, I taught a classroom of fifty first graders that year (pictured at right).

 

The photo at left was taken by the same company that photographed the school children. My smile appears genuine. I was an enthusiastic teacher. I’d been well-trained and was comfortable with the curriculum. I was accustomed to helping children because I’d been a playground instructor in grade school.

In high school, I taught singing to kindergarten children and babysat kids in the neighborhood. My smile changed to angst at the end of each day when I returned to the convent.

In the classroom I was passionate. In the convent I was tortured.