Have you ever read or heard of stories about the atrocities that happened in Catholic boarding schools a couple generations ago? There's a new twist on that old story that makes me shudder, partly because I almost felt I had BEEN THERE!
Back, maybe sixty years ago, or so the story goes there was an all girls orphanage run by nuns who were very severe. Possibly because of the lack of love in that atmosphere, some of the girls got carried away with guys they secretly met, and babies resulted. Of course this was responded to with shock, horror, and disapproval. The one girl who the story focuses on dearly loved her little boy, but was only allowed to see him for a short time once a week. Imagine the delighted reunion when they fell into each others arms during these brief visits! Picture these very young moms running into the room barely heeding the stern commands to walk like ladies!
The scene changes in a flash!! Almost too late this girl finds out that her child is going to be snatched away and adopted! How she screams and wails and races down the stairs but is held back. She tears up the stairs once again and calls and calls out the window to her sweet little boy. Imagine her excruciating dispair and agony of losing the love of her life!
She never, never forgets him, and eventually searches exstensively...and finds him...after he dies.
So what does this have to do with ME, you ask?
I had a strange sensation while we stayed in a spacious cottage that used to be a vacation home for nuns. It was chill, musky, plain house and far too easy to picture that young girl flying down the stairs in that sort of atmosphere. There was even one or two iron crosses hanging on the walls.
But I'm leaving you on a down note. Next time I'll post about the positive sights on this spots.
Back, maybe sixty years ago, or so the story goes there was an all girls orphanage run by nuns who were very severe. Possibly because of the lack of love in that atmosphere, some of the girls got carried away with guys they secretly met, and babies resulted. Of course this was responded to with shock, horror, and disapproval. The one girl who the story focuses on dearly loved her little boy, but was only allowed to see him for a short time once a week. Imagine the delighted reunion when they fell into each others arms during these brief visits! Picture these very young moms running into the room barely heeding the stern commands to walk like ladies!
The scene changes in a flash!! Almost too late this girl finds out that her child is going to be snatched away and adopted! How she screams and wails and races down the stairs but is held back. She tears up the stairs once again and calls and calls out the window to her sweet little boy. Imagine her excruciating dispair and agony of losing the love of her life!
She never, never forgets him, and eventually searches exstensively...and finds him...after he dies.
So what does this have to do with ME, you ask?
I had a strange sensation while we stayed in a spacious cottage that used to be a vacation home for nuns. It was chill, musky, plain house and far too easy to picture that young girl flying down the stairs in that sort of atmosphere. There was even one or two iron crosses hanging on the walls.
But I'm leaving you on a down note. Next time I'll post about the positive sights on this spots.
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