Sr. Ann McGovern, CSJ

About six years ago, I flew home to Pittsburgh to surprise my parents for Thanksgiving vacation, however, this surprise also brought the shocking news that I was considering becoming a nun. It was a long flight to the East Coast as I rehearsed all of my logical reasons for thinking of religious life, in hopes that they would support and encourage me on this new and mysterious journey. Looking back, what I remember most is not just the fear and anxiety of telling them that I wanted to become a nun, but that there was "something" deeper which gave me the courage to be honest, open, and trusting of the call that persistently echoed within me.

I was raised in a strong, Irish Catholic family and I am the youngest of six children. In one sense, it is not unusual that someone with my background would consider religious life, but from my family's perspective it was extremely unusual and left them confounded. The first night I arrived in Pittsburgh, I sat my parents down and told them directly that I was considering entering religious life. They looked at me blankly and asked me to repeat everything one more time. Slowly I tried to explain this deep desire for a life of service within the context of community. At the time, I was teaching in an inner city public high school in Los Angeles and my parents asked if teaching had brought this on. I think they were silently hoping that this was a passing phase. I shared that my vocation was growing out of a sense of wanting to live with and in service of the poor and that in the course of my teaching experience my relationship with God was deepening and I felt a call to something more. I could not explain why I felt this call, but only that the feeling was real and persistent. They were sincerely troubled because their stereotypes of religious did not fit their image of me. I was twenty five, outgoing, athletic, loved parties, and was not the "sister" type. They worried that I would change in order to meet the expectations of the community.

For the rest of the weekend, my parents struggled to understand me and I fumbled with words that could articulate the feelings in my heart. Nothing I said seemed to bring much enthusiasm and I was beginning to feel as though I had disappointed them. My father expected that I would be attending graduate school and my mother was hoping that I would be engaged. After my announcement, their minds continued to fill with images of me in a full habit and locked away in a cloistered convent. They could not seem to hear my explanation that religious life in the 90's was significantly different from their childhood years and that in many ways I would remain the same person.

Looking back, I can recognise the unrealistic expectations I placed on my parents and the need for immediate acceptance that was brewing inside of me. In some ways, I wanted my parents to make the decision for me. I could hear myself saying, if they accept the idea then it is the right decision but if they do not accept the idea, then I will reconsider. This bargaining did not last and I soon discovered that the process was not black and white and that only through prayer, time, and discussion would clarity arise. Just as I needed more time for discernment, so too did my parents.

Over the next two years, I moved more seriously into religious life and was ready to begin my Candidacy with the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet. My deepest concern at that point was my family's acceptance of this new path. I had shared everything with my brothers and sisters and my parents knew that my Candidacy was beginning. Yet there was still no overt support. I felt as though everyone wanted to look the other way and avoid any conversation about my decision. However, something began to change as soon as I moved into community and my commitment was becoming more visible. I noticed that my siblings were taking more interest and asking more questions. By January of my first year, my parents came to visit my house and meet the sisters. It was somewhat of an awkward dinner, but it broke the ice for everyone. My parents could finally put faces and places to my life and they were beginning to feel more relaxed about the idea. As I dropped them off at the airport to return to Pittsburgh that weekend, my Dad leaned over and said to me, "this decision is ultimately up to you and we just want you to be happy, so if this is what you want, then stay in it." This was a pivotal moment in my discernment. Suddenly, the burden of acceptance was lifted and now the decision was up to me and not dependent on my family's response.

During the course of my Candidacy my mother came to Los Angeles a few more times and felt absolutely at home. My local community welcomed her and she left with great hugs and smiles. For my entrance into the novitiate, my mother and father wanted to come to Los Angeles. It was another turning point for them and brought me tremendous affirmation. They were overwhelmed by the warmth of the entire community, the beauty of the liturgy, and most of all by my happiness and readiness for this life. As I gave my parents the sign of peace, I could feel their support, encouragement, and acceptance of the mysterious path that I was walking. I could see the gradual work that we had done and I clearly saw how time could heal and nurture relationships.

Now six years after I first told my family, I am approaching my first profession of vows and the entire family is flying to Los Angeles for the big day. My sisters, brothers, and parents are excited and proud and want to experience my life and support my commitment. If you had asked me six years ago, if I ever expected this transformation, I would have laughed and said no. Yet God works in mysterious ways and the McGoverns are some of my biggest supporters!

The gift of these six years has been the growth of relationships within my family. We are closer as a result of this process and it has been worth the struggles and awkward conversations. As I continue to include them in my discernment, they continue to share their fears, concerns, and stereotypes of nuns, most of which dissipates as soon as they ask the question. Most importantly, they can see my happiness and confidence and want only the best for me. Today I can reassure them that my happiness rests in responding to the call to follow God as a Sister of St. Joseph of Carondelet.