�What a
nuisance,� I thought in exasperation while walking towards the Convent,
�to think of the preparation of meals, of a husband�s culinary likes and
dislikes��
I was going to the convent garden to buy some red cabbages the Sister
had for sale.
I searched for Sister Gertrude, or rather, as they called her, Cook
Sister. Not finding her in the house, I walked down to the garden. There
I saw her stout figure bending down over a bed of carrots. The sun was
hot on her, but she worked slowly, methodically picking out one carrot,
after another, one after another.
As I approached, she saw me and got up slowly as though with some
difficulty, but her wrinkled face was animated and her smile was warm
and welcoming. We talked about her carrots, cabbages, potatoes and peas.
She showed me the herbs she had planted, the special mint she used for
her sauces, the roses from which she made jams and the lavender flowers
whose scent was so fragrant in her linen cupboards.
She enjoyed explaining the uses of the different flowers and plants, and
she spoke with enthusiasm about her cooking and baking, but I thought
her rather simple and was disappointed that a religious Sister should be
like that. She must have guessed my thoughts for she suddenly said: �I
can do very little, but I try to do it really well and with gladness.
Don�t you?�
No, I did not. I have never thought that one should pay so much
attention to simple routine tasks, besides I could not. I would not
confess to this simple soul my reasons. She could not help me. She would
not know how.
She looked at me with her faded blue eyes. �Look around you�, she said
suddenly and listen to the garden, this helps sometimes when you are
troubled.
We stood quietly, and looked and listened. The beds of carrots, tomatoes
and potatoes disappeared from my eyes. I saw the bright mass of
greenness, I heard the faint rustle of leaves, the buzzing of bees, I
smelled the herbs and flowers; there was a wonderful quietness around us
and a strange intimacy which, somehow, united man and nature.
�That is why I plant and sow,� the Sister said quietly. �One�s
achievement is not only in material gains.�
�Have I achieved anything?� I thought miserably. �I lost what I was
longing to achieve. Oh God�� and suddenly the tranquility of the garden
and the serenity of the Sister became unendurable. I fled from the
garden, hating those who had achieved anything in this world and those
who were at peace with themselves.
She came to see me the next day. She brought me the jar of the rose jam
she was so proud of. We talked again about common-place things and
people and she asked me if I could come to help her pick fruit. And so I
went, but as soon as I entered the Convent garden and felt the
tranquility of the place, I felt I could not bear it. I was out of place
there.
My baby is dead. I have never held him in my arms, I have never heard
him crying, I have never touched him. I longed for him; my arms, my
breast, my whole being longed for him. There was something in my body
and soul that was missing forever. I went through the whole misery of
the last month listening again and again to the voice of my doctor:
�Your baby was still born, it never breathed, it never lived.� And the
priest was saying,
�Don�t despair, in God�s domains there is a place for him too. He is
enjoying natural happiness and he does not suffer. He is not lost.�
Don�t despair, how easy it is to say! What does he or this jolly healthy
Sister know about real suffering, or about real PAIN? They all live a
life of recluses, outside the real world, caring only for themselves and
their souls. But I suffered and I am still in pain. All those months of
waiting, hope and joy shattered with the words: �He is dead. Your baby
is dead.�
I did not help her pick fruit. I did not wait for her. I fled again, to
cry
in my pillow and then to face the world with an unhappy face.
But Sister Gertrude came to me again. She was bottling fruit now, and if
I came she would show me how.
The kitchen was scrubbed clean; the empty shelves in her white-washed
pantry were filled up with jars and on the old-fashioned stove stood the
pots with shimmering fruit. The smell of the wood-fire and the scent of
cooking apples reminded me of home.
Sister Gertrude red and sweating but nevertheless very energetic called
to me from the stove, �Hard work, my child, but when you are busy you
seldom think and this is often the best remedy for your pain.� It was
true; I did not think much during those two hours I spent with her in
the kitchen, but when we went down later to the garden to look for some
more fruit, the quietness of the evening among the trees and shrubs hit
me even harder.
The leaves were shimmering in the last rays of the sun; the flowers were
bending down some closing for the night-deep shadows lay over the beds
of vegetables. The garden was resting, preparing for the night. There
was a pervading sense of peace and Sister said quietly, �The plants and
flowers, the birds and animals, they live in the day and sleep at night.
They praise God in their own way and do not despair when the time comes
for them to fade. We, who have souls and minds, we should know even
better that time passes, joy and sorrow pass away, and then comes the
evening of our life, when we quietly rest and wait. The time comes when
you start weaning yourself from the world, as the baby weans itself from
the mother�s breast.�
My baby! I thought rebelliously, he had no time wean himself from me! He
did not live long enough to do it. I never saw the color of his eyes, or
whether his hair was blond like mine. And his little cheeks: were they
velvety to the touch, like the petals of those flowers? He had never
cuddled against my breast with little sucking noises demanding his first
drink�
�You are happy and serene, for you have never suffered, never lived in
despair,� I threw in her face. �You are wonderfully healthy; you do not
suffer from any longings or desires. You are completely content with
yourself for you have planned your life and it all goes without a
hitch.� I was choking with tears and left her abruptly and rushed home
like someone possessed. It was impossible for her to understand me; she
was just a simple Cook Sister.
The last time I saw her, she was very ill. She was lying in bed in her
little bare room, and as I entered I saw her gazing through the window
at her garden. Was she thinking of her tomatoes, carrots and unpicked
apples? I wondered. She guessed my thoughts again:
�Some are born to great things in life,� she said simply. �Some suffer a
lot, while others struggle and endure great temptations and
humiliations. Some, like me, find happiness in simple things like rows
of carrots and the sweet smell of roses.�
�Whatever you do, whatever you must endure, wherever you are and
whatever you are born into, remember that God made us all in his
likeness. There is greatness and smallness in Him, there is sorrow and
pain, happiness and joy in Him. Our misery is His, our joy is His, and
He is in the Nature that I loved so much. I praised Him through the
small things of this world, while you praise Him in your sorrow. He
shares all this with us and He is the one who will grant you
forgetfulness and release you from your pain.
Don�t struggle. Trust Him. He is your Father. He knows you. He sees you.
Try to remember: He is here in this room, in my garden and with your
baby. He looks after him. Why should you worry? I have never worried,
not even about my garden, all is in His hands and if God be for us who
are against us?�
Soon afterwards she died.
�Did you
know, said my doctor �that she died of cancer? She had cancer of the
kidney, and it was not just a rapid illness; she had one kidney removed
a few years ago. She was always unwell, and probably always in pain. She
knew all along it was cancer. What agonies that woman went through. God
only knows�.
�She was granted a holiday to see her country soon before she became
ill�, said Mother superior. �She was so thrilled when she heard the
news. After 40 years of the religious life she would see her home town
again. She longed to see the valley where she was born. I know the
place; it is an earthly paradise, so green and so beautiful. She loved
Nature, did you know that?�
And I thought: I talked to her about my pain, my longings�
I miss her and I regret so many things, but now I try to imitate her a
little, though she was only a simple Cook Sister.
April 29, 2007
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