Date: Wed, 20 Dec 2000 22:34:52 -0000
From: Kathy Lind <lindkathy@hotmail.com>
Subject: God's Treasure

By an African Sister travelling through Northern Italy.

"The Mother Superior wishes to see you", said the youngest nun when she
found the Visiting Sister reading in the cloister.

The cloister was cool, a place of solace again the winds which had been
blowing for days up from Padua.   Hot and dry they were, but the cloister
was sheltered.   The stonework was Iscia from Tergonna, and had had soft,
well-worn glow now that the morning sun was still behind the hills.

Sister was reading a letter from home.  Zhonga was such a long way away, a
different world away, and the young nun's appearance brought Sister back to
where she was in Italy, researching, writing.

"You are busy all the time," said the young nun.  "And you are too," said
Sister. "I heard that you are just out of your novitiate, and you did very
well in your examinations.  And you are French?"

The young nun blushed a little in acknowledgment and stood a little closer
to Sister. "We are all good friends here," the young nun said softly.   In
reply Sister, from where she was sitting,  opened the front of the young
nun's robe and caressed what bare flesh she could find inside.

"After prayers?,"  Sister asked softly. "Oui", whispered the young nun as
she slipped away.

The office of the Mother Superior was quite grand, a legacy of earlier and
perhaps more worldly occupants who had political power on their minds rather
than directing the souls of themselves and others towards God.  The table
was oak from Tulerni, the gilt lanterns were from Cosuovo at the time of
Angiohiri family, and the bookcases were Veronese, possibly myrtle from the
Tioro valley.

"Come, my dear," said the Mother Superior, standing tall and - if she were
in another world - elegant.   "I have some paper for your studies, they have
not been opened for years.  And I would like to ask about you."

"Certainly, Dear Mother.  I hear you wanted to ask about my robes?  They are
from Africa, and to be honest they are an amalgam of local native styles and
European nun's attire."

"Yes, I can see that, and they are striking.  May I  examine the cloth?  "Of
course, you may examine it all"  "All?"  "Yes, all."

Sister closed her eyes and held out of arms as the Mother Superior came
closer to stand beside her in front of the desk.  One by one the pieces of
cloth which made up Sister's habit was unwound.  Firstly it was the shawl.
The left breast was exposed, then the right, Then the stomach, then the
legs.

"You are God's treasure."

"You must examine me to see if I am fit for God's work, to work here in
Italy with you in prayer and supplication."

"Let us keep out hearts full of love and so start with Love.  The Mount of
Love.  The Mount of Venus."

Sister leant back against the historic timber of the magnificent desk, once
made from the limbs of a mighty tree.   Sister's own limbs spread wider as
the test began."

(Ends)