Sister Maria Amata was distracted. "Why is she crying? I wonder if Sister Mary Elaine snapped at her. She doesn't usually get upset, though. Not like I do."
The warm breeze of the June day wafted into the choir. The scent of honeysuckle was in the air. What had Sister Zita Anne told her once?
"I was married in June." Not three months later, her husband had been killed in the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center in New York. His death had tested her faith.
"I thought I could never forgive the terrorists who killed my husband. I knew I had to. It was what Jesus was calling me to do. Every day was a new effort. It took time. It took a lot of help and support from others. I was so in love! Never, and I mean never, would I have thought I'd enter a cloistered monastery. Well, here I am!"
A sudden revelation crashed into Sister Maria Amata's thoughts: "That's what is so peaceful about her. She really forgives those guys."
Sister Mary Dominic intoned the Magnificat, Mary's canticle. "My soul glorifies the Lord."
Sister Maria Amata struggled to fight back the tears coming to her eyes. She looked up at the icon of Our Lady of Tenderness that was at the front of the choir. "Mother of God and my Mother, please, help to forgive the man that killed Danny. I'm trying to, but I'm not free. Show me how to let go! Help me to be truly free, to give everything I am to God."