Through the Narrow Gate: A Nun’s Story. Karen Armstrong

a common outlook. We don’t eat with seculars—people who are not religious—because we have turned our back on the world. You must always respect a nun’s separateness.”

      And here we were now, come from all over the globe to share their lives.

      As if she were answering my unspoken wish to begin the new life properly, Mother Albert now spoke.

      “Reverend Mother,” she said respectfully to the Provincial, “I think as the hooding is at six-thirty we’d better be going along now.”

      “Ah yes! Splendid!” said Mother Provincial. “Yes. Well, you’ll go along now with Mother Albert to the Postulantship,” she said, smiling at us. “There the second-year novices will help you to change into the postulants’ dress. Then at half-past six we have the hooding ceremony.” She paused and her voice swelled out. “You will come into the church and you will receive the postulants’ hood, the short white veil you will wear during these first nine months. It will be your formal reception into the community. Shall we say grace together?” Shuffling, we all stood up.

      We went back into the garden where the sunlight was almost blinding after the darkness of the parlor, a straggling little procession headed by Mother Albert, who walked with an odd springing step, seeming to dance on the ball of her right foot. We limped along behind, tight skirts, orlon sweaters, one or two neat suits. I felt weak with relief.

      Mother Albert smiled at us. “Well,” she said, “this is it. The moment you’ve been thinking about for months. You’ve been imagining what it was like, I expect, wondering what you’d feel. And now you probably don’t feel anything very much at all.”