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Needless to say I am not really called Herodias or anything like it, but like so many I have found it necessary to hide my everyday identity to approach the chapel of the Lord.. I am a sister at a convent of the order of Carmel, somewhere in Scandinavia. If you want a less un-Christian name, I could be called Sister Stephanie. I always wanted to be a sister serving the Lord, and when I was seventeen my parents sold me to a nunnery in exchange for some cattle and Requiem masses for an aunt, which could only be said to fit my wishes and arguably those of the Lord as well. After training innhow to pray well and to serve well I was smuggled into another country a thousand miles away, thus landing in the convent where I am now, and essentially a slave.
My simple and honourable life seemed to run as it had been planned, in the service of Christ our Lord, but last year I was beset with strange visions and dreams that indicated a conflict looming over the community. When I tried to explain and tell of these visions and omens to my sisters I was not well understood; perhaps I was too agitated but dark demons must have been at work too. A few months later the Abbess passed to a better life and a new lady was appointed to lead the little community. She instantly singled me out as her enemy, and while she set about changing some of the routines and purpose of the convent, she had Stephanie whipped, ordered to silence and finally tattooed as a special element of unrest. I was left hanging by my wrists, hooded and flogged in a cellar dungeon deep under the library to make me soften and obey her.
I am proud to be suffering for the name of the LORD, but I do not want punishments like these to come over more of our sisters, and still less do I wish the divine punishment that could strike our sacred place. Last month I was returned some to my old life as a sister, though I am still being bound and whipped each Tuesday and Friday, and I began looking for men who walk behind the flame of God through the desert of Sinai. That is how I made contact with this church, which indeed looks like a haven of peace and piety led by men of God. I pray that you will deign to accept my presence under the protection of the LORD.
I continue to pray for my persecutor, as Christ taught us, but most of all praying that she might be enlightened by true faith and mercy.
My simple and honourable life seemed to run as it had been planned, in the service of Christ our Lord, but last year I was beset with strange visions and dreams that indicated a conflict looming over the community. When I tried to explain and tell of these visions and omens to my sisters I was not well understood; perhaps I was too agitated but dark demons must have been at work too. A few months later the Abbess passed to a better life and a new lady was appointed to lead the little community. She instantly singled me out as her enemy, and while she set about changing some of the routines and purpose of the convent, she had Stephanie whipped, ordered to silence and finally tattooed as a special element of unrest. I was left hanging by my wrists, hooded and flogged in a cellar dungeon deep under the library to make me soften and obey her.
I am proud to be suffering for the name of the LORD, but I do not want punishments like these to come over more of our sisters, and still less do I wish the divine punishment that could strike our sacred place. Last month I was returned some to my old life as a sister, though I am still being bound and whipped each Tuesday and Friday, and I began looking for men who walk behind the flame of God through the desert of Sinai. That is how I made contact with this church, which indeed looks like a haven of peace and piety led by men of God. I pray that you will deign to accept my presence under the protection of the LORD.I continue to pray for my persecutor, as Christ taught us, but most of all praying that she might be enlightened by true faith and mercy.
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