Lasts

“This is the last time I will . . .” is already a phrase I’ve used too much this week (along with “this time next week I will be . . .”). Yesterday was the last time I will enjoy one of the noviciate Sunday evening feasts, when the leftovers from Sunday lunch and dinners from the previous couple of days are left in the kitchen for us to help ourselves. Over the two years it has delivered wonderful plate-mixes such as roast beef, yorkshire pudding and thai green curry (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it).

On the plus side, there was great delight among us ‘departers’ as the indoor works rota list was published without our names on it, and so all things being equal I will have cleaned my last ever noviciate toilet or shower. The joy was so great as to make the rota today’s featured picture.

Today, though, has been about looking forward as well as looking back. I’ve been writing my formal letter to the Provincial, asking to be accepted into the Society. This will be handed to him tomorrow when he pays us a short visit. It is to be handwritten, which immediately makes it feel very different, given the computerisation of so many aspects of our life. For me, it has had the effect of making the experience more authentic, more real, more me: the letter is being crafted and not just fired off. It is like an extended signature, an idea I like and which speaks to what this is actually about. We are, after all, looking to sign up to something for the rest of our lives.

And what does it say? I’m going to finish off writing it tomorrow, but at the heart is the idea that this choice is no real choice at all – I don’t see any other alternative, and I mean that in the best possible way. To not do this would feel like finding life-changing treasure in the field, burying it again and then just walking away. And who would ever want to do that?

Tonight, is curry night. My last one, in case I hadn’t said . . .