I had once gotten it into my head that I wanted to be a Benedictine Oblate. I felt this after being swept up by the romance of Kathleen Norris’ The Cloister Walk. I dove in. I found a monastery in Indiana that took long distance oblates and began my investiture. Basically I was supposed to pray daily, read as much of The Liturgy of the Hours as I could fit into my normal life and read prescribed selections from the The Rule of Saint Benedict each day.
It didn’t take me long to discover that I was not, never had been, and never would be that disciplined. Continue reading