It's not every day that you move to a new city. In fact, I've never done it before. So it's no surprise that I'm a little bewildered. Well, it may actually be a surprise to some of the people in this town. I don't know what it is yet, but there's something about this town that's just a little....off. But I shan't dwell on that now. The good Lord asks me not to judge those who I have not gotten to know. Don't judge a book by its cover, right? Unless it's the Bible. That's supposed to be a good read.
Anyways, it's a new town, and I have a new job, so I need a new name. Sister Agnes is getting annoying. I never liked my sister, and that just makes me think of her more than I would wish (don't call me a bad Christian for disliking my sister. God tells me not to judge those who I don't know. And trust me, I know my sister.) So, since I'm dropping the Sister, and since I'm the new head nun at the soup kitchen on Kush, I'm going to go by Reverend Mother Agnes Monaghan. I wish I could drop the Agnes. That's a horrid name. I'm 24 years old; Agnes makes me sound like I'm 108. But Agnes is a good Catholic name, so I may as well keep it. Reverend Mother Agnes Monaghan it is. Reverend Mother should really be reserved for the head nuns of convents and abbeys, but I am the head nun of a soup kitchen, and I deem that worthy of the title. Besides, the title is kind of badass. But don't tell anyone that I said ass.
You may be questioning my devotion to the Catholic church and my job as a nun, and you have the right to. If I could, I'd be a doctor or a writer or a winemaker or something. But there was never any chance for me to be anything but a nun. It's like a family tradition. That, by the way, doesn't make any sense. Nuns aren't supposed to get married, and they're REALLY not supposed to have babies out of wedlock, so they're all crappy nuns too. Regardless of my unorthodox methods of nunnery (is that a word? who even cares?), I do believe in God, and I do care for the people who I will soon be feeding soup to. And whether or not I like this job, it has to be better than that teaching gig I had at Our Lady of Sorrows elementary school in New Jersey. I'm not much for wacking kids on the knuckles with rulers. I don't think God would like that very much either, as a matter of fact. I do, however, wonder why the nun who ran the soup kitchen before me was so desperate to leave. It probably has something to do with the fact that this city is sketchy. REALLY sketchy. But again, no judging.
So this soup kitchen that I run now is on Kush. It's next to a clinic and a Church of God. That should be interesting. I mean, for all intents and purposes, I'm VERY Catholic. This should be fun. There's a graveyard and a homeless hangout behind the kitchen, so at least I know that I'm within spitting distance of the people I'm serving (not that I would ever spit. I'm a lady).
Anyways, I'm in apartment 206b at the moment. It's tiny and smelly, but my stuff fits in it, and that works for me. I really should be living in a convent somewhere, but there's nowhere closeby, and this will give me the opportunity to get to know some of God's children who I would have never involved myself with before. It's time for me to step up and realize that I'm one of them now. I'm a strange, shady person living in a rundown little city that desperately needs a remodel. Or 8. But that's me now. I'm open to that, right? I'll get there. However, I don't think I'll ever be okay with the head shop that I found behind the drug store. I may not be the best nun ever, but I know better than to let that one slide. I will certainly be praying for their sweet little souls tonight. But then again, I'll need to pray for my own soul since I'm bred from rule-breaking, frisky little nuns who couldn't keep their large and unflattering robes on. Good Lord.
I better start praying now.
