Lydia and the Sisters of the Sacred Hand

"Novitiate Lydia, you will lead exaltations tomorrow," came the soft voice of Sister Mary Teresa. "Please be at morning prayer ten minutes early, and I will guide you through the readings once before we begin. It's very much as you've seen the other sisters perform it." Lydia turned back to Mary Teresa, nodding at the Novice Mistress with a slight smile. The Mistress retreated from Lydia's doorway without another word, and Lydia took a deep breath, closing the tome she was reading from in her personal cell.

Because of the typically experienced position of a Novice Mistress--in charge of all the postulants and novices prior to taking their permanent vows--Lydia figured that Mary Teresa was probably about thirty years older than she was, but her face was no indicator. Her eyes were still youthful and bright, her skin was soft and smooth, and from what Lydia could tell, her body was every bit as able as many of the young sisters.

At first, Lydia didn't believe she'd stay here a week. She'd considered herself faithful, a sinner like every other human being walking the earth, she understood, but faithful all the same. When her ultra-conservative parents had found her in a compromising position with obscene materials having to do with other women, their discussion about the event wasn't in any carnal detail. They couldn't or wouldn't bear it. Lydia wanted to explain herself, but she didn't have the opportunity, and her parents were already upset enough that she didn't want to hurt them further.

Something had been welling up in her since her teenage years, something she didn't understand how to manage. She had a feeling in her that she couldn't explain to either of her parents, so she bottled up until it got to be too much. The feeling welling up in her was something she was taught was unnatural, a kind of desire that would certainly be looked down upon by her family and her church. When she finally found a way to release the pressure in private, she wondered about her transgression, seeking the Scripture to find her reconciliation with God.

The worst she could find was the commandment to honor her mother and father. The apostle Paul had spoken about adultery in Corinthians, but Lydia's particular desires didn't seem to cross any of the lines that he interpreted. She wasn't an adulteress. She fornicated with no man before marriage. She wasn't a thief, she wasn't greedy, nor a drunkard, nor swindler. The only reference to the prohibition of same-sex attraction in the same Pauline epistle she studied was reserved for men.

So when her parents found her pleasuring herself — the only thing that seemed to assuage the powerful impulse rising up in her — they found her seeking images of beautiful women doing the same. Lydia was convinced that she wasn't sinning against God except in so much as she disappointed her parents. To this disobedience, she was willing to reconcile with her parents in any way they saw fit.

They wanted to send her to an Abbey.

At 18, Lydia was an adult. She could have left her parents house. Her job as a grocery clerk and her modest spending meant that she could have found a place on her own, or with a roommate...but she wasn't interested in rebellion. To act against her parents was to act against God, even if the Lord in her reading didn't condemn her for her desire. When she accepted, they seemed elated with her choice, proud of her for seeking an even deeper path toward God.

She met Mother Agnes four months before. After her initial interview, she was questioned by Mother Agnes, who was the Abbess; Sister Joanna, a prioress; and Bishop Thomas Riley. They accepted her as a postulate, with Bishop Riley and Sister Joanna being the most enthusiastic about her membership. Mother Agnes held her cards much closer to her chest, indicating neither approval nor disapproval — welcoming her with a formal reserve that made Lydia wonder how much her parents had told mother Agnes about their reasons for having her join.

Twelve weeks later, Lydia sat before Sr. Mary Teresa and Mother Agnes. She answered their questions and objections, she cited Scripture like a scholar (Mary Teresa's words, of course, not Lydia's own), and she gave the reasons in her true heart for her wish in remaining at the abbey to seek God in a way that few women ever would.

The decision was Mother Agnes' to make, and in a quiet meeting between the two of them the next day, Lydia was accepted as a novitiate. Mother Agnes had said little except to make clear that the expectations of Lydia were high due to her obvious intelligence, that given her gifts as a student and an order — pride may yet be her greatest obstruction in seeking God, and finally that the path to true happiness was not through any earthly pleasure, but through focused yet humble communion with God.

Lydia took all of this to heart. She abstained from the thing that had gotten her sent to the Abbey in the first place, and when the powerful unnamed impulse began to return in her abstinence, she simply took it on faith that the Lord had meant for her to bear it, and to manage it without her former dependence on carnal release. She could feel it growing stronger, echoing through her cells and making it more difficult for her to focus…but she only took this as a test.

Now on her third week as a novitiate, Lydia was doing well in both her studies and her duties. Instead of distracting her, the impulses continuing to well-up in her only brought out her determination. She made fast friends with many other sisters and novitiates in the abbey. Sr. Mary Teresa, her novitiate mistress, was friendly to her without forgetting the formal distance she knew she should maintain with her students. She was happy to guide her and to listen to Lydia's concerns while relating tidbits of her time before taking her permanent vows. Sr. Joanna, the prioress responsible for the maintenance of the Abbey, had opened up to her within a couple weeks, showing Lydia a side of herself that many of the other sisters were aware of but that she never exposed in front of her fellow prioresses or before mother Agnes.

In one of Lydia's sleepless nights, she found herself praying at the quiet East Chapel with only Sr. Joanna as her company. When Joanna rose to depart, Lydia's eyes opened, meeting Joanna's own. Maintaining her silence, Joanna mouthed a simple question, quietly asking Lydia if she was hungry. Lydia nodded, smiling slightly, and followed Sr. Joanna's beckon to the Abbey's secondary kitchen, where she revealed a splendid chocolate cake and shared a slice with Lydia as they had some tea.

"You seem to be getting along great, my dear," Joanna whispered, winking behind her glasses as she flexed one of her rosy cheeks. "Even Mother Superior likes you." Lydia remembered what Mother Agnes said about pride, but she couldn't resist.

"You...really think so?" Lydia asked. Joanna's smile widened as she poured more tea into Lydia's cup.

"She reserves her heart for God...not her sleeve. I know it's tough to tell what she thinks of anything, but keep with your diligence and be true to yourself, dear. You seem to be our shining star among the novices." Joanna did a little shimmy in her night vestments. "And for goodness sake, don't forget to have a little fun. Be mindful about your timing, of course, but one should never be too serious. Even King Solomon and the Lord's Divine Son taught that there's a time for joy."

"I suppose that being too serious...that might come from a place of pride too, right?" Lydia asked.

"Precisely right, my dear. Stick with Clem, she knows what that balance is all about."

Sister Clementine, in the cell across from her own, was probably her closest friend. She was absolutely beautiful--with fair skin, blonde hair, and a gentle, friendly smile. Lydia could tell that Clem's upbringing was quite different from her own. She tended to speak formally with those who did the same, Lydia included, but she was also fun and a little mischievous around those who were inclined to be the same. To a precious few — Sr. Selena was probably the best example — she almost seemed to speak a different language, full of the trappings of something like Lydia would expect from the popular girls at a public high school. This ability to adapt in conversation made her something of a social butterfly inside the abbey, but it also brought her the attention and occasional ire of mother Agnes.

As a novitiate, Lydia tried her best not to get caught up in the gossipy side of affairs in the priory, but Clem and Selena were certainly even more fun as a pair than anyone else she'd been acquianted with.

"Well, enjoy the rest of your tea, dear," Joanna smiled, carrying away Lydia's empty plate with her own.

"Good night, Sister Joanna," Lydia said.

The quiet of the abbey soon consumed the kitchen once more, and Lydia sat thinking about Clem. She was, perhaps, the most beautiful of all the women in the group. Selena was pretty too--perhaps the more provocative of the two and the wilder one before she became to the abbey--but Clem was...nearly perfect.

Lydia wondered if she was the only virgin of the younger sisters. Clem mentioned an ex-boyfriend in passing once, but beyond talking about her ideological reasons for joining a year into junior college, she didn't reveal much about specific indiscretions before her time here. Most of the stories she'd tell to Lydia were about the abbey and the other sisters. Her hobbies.

Lydia's mind was wandering. She thought about Clem's body, remembering when the two of them passed each other in the hall on the way to and from the bath. Clem's breasts were pronounced to the point where Lydia had to wonder if she binded them against herself in her vestments. Her skin was like...

"Ooh!" Lydia let out a little squack, pushing out her chair and placing a hand between her legs in her robes. She'd felt...something. She first looked around to make sure that she was undisturbed after her little verbal outburst.

She could feel the blood rushing to her face. She'd felt something there, and yet she wondered how much of the sensation was real and how much of it was a hypochondria that came from her own abstinence from such activities. She swallowed hard and looked around again, reassuring herself that she was alone. She looked down at her lap as if she was waiting for something else to happen.

Nothing did.

She took a deep breath, sipping her tea as she tried to recall the sensation. Almost like something was insinuating itself against her. Trying to slip in.

Like she would when she--

Lydia gasped, paused in her train of thought as an apparent bump from the table sent her tea saucer clattering, then gently rolling on the rim touching the table. She pushed her chair back in the moment, watching the thing spin slightly on its recursing path until the porcelain came to rest again.

Lydia looked under the table. Her knees hadn't hit it, had they? She didn't remember being in contact with the table at all. She took a deep breath.

Lord, may your servant sleep so that I'm not running my head around silly things, she thought. May your servant stop thinking about pleasures of the fl... Lydia pursed her lips. This was human, wasn't it? Feeling need in this way--it was human. People were designed to be with each other, and yet--her parents sent her here. But those were their choices, and their law. They'd put Lydia in God's hands, and she'd found nothing in Gods law that came into conflict with how she felt. Guide me, God. Show me what is right and make my heart nearer to yours. Reveal my service to you and give me the wisdom to know when I'm witnessing your subtle perfection. She sighed, looking down at her lap again. I promise to do my best to listen.

_

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