The Enchanted Outsider

Carlow University convent, Pittsburgh, PA Image via: Carlow archives

As I retrieved my new pack of birth control pills from my nightstand this evening, I noticed my third stash of knitting shoved into the drawer. I have three stashes, and this is the least sought probably because the other two are easily accessible among my other craft supplies. This third and often forgotten stash includes two spools of a sock weight wool-acrylic blend, a partially done lace sample from Kool Aid dyed wool yarn, and a nearly completed prayer shawl of Red Heart acrylic. The US size 15 bamboo needles used in knitting this prayer shawl were removed and many of the exposed, sage green stitches threatened to unravel. Tangled among the knotted skein was my new pack of bills.

This shawl began in a magical place. When I tell you what this place is, you may think it's ironic or funny that my birth control pills were found wrapped up in the undone shawl. It's a little ironic, but only a little. The Sisters of Mercy at Carlow wouldn't judge me for using the pills. The group I interacted with for about two months in the spring of 2008 didn't judge me for anything. I never felt more welcomed and more like I could simply be (not even just be myself, but just be), than when I would meet the sisters on Saturday mornings at Carlow.

I went to college at Carlow, lived in the dorm all four years. There is only one dorm building, and only women can live in it. My deepest, best friends lived with me in that building. Our hall on the 9th floor had bras decorating the emergency lights and a carpet stained with spray paint, thanks to us. I loved it there very much.

Since I majored in creative writing, finding a job in my field in Pittsburgh wasn't very possible. What did I do? I went back to Carlow! They gave me a job assisting the Registrar. I printed out class rosters way too many reams of paper and produced new student packets for Freshmen. I took long lunches and  took many breaks wandering the grounds that my friends and I had. On the top of Grace Library, you can see all of South Oakland and a tip of the South Side. I sat there so much all seven years I was associated with Carlow. It's not the best school in Pittsburgh for sure, but it certainly has a lot of charm and spirit. The best way I can describe my connection to it is to say "Carlow is my Rushmore." If you've never seen the movie Rushmore, you should and then you will get it. You should just watch the movie anyway.

Above is the second shawl I worked on. It's three-quarters of the way finished, and I can easily finish it within the week. Though I can keep it or donate it, I kind of want to mail it to Carlow. There, Carol, the convent volunteer who organized the shawl group, would be so excited and gracious to receive it. She'd pick what she believes are just the right charms and prayer card to add to it. She would comment on how lovely she thinks it is. The sisters would nod in agreement. I'm not sure if they'd all remember me, or if there even still there. If they got a random-seeming shawl from a girl in California who says she used to knit with them Saturday mornings, they'd appreciate it no matter what.

I was explaining my enthusiasm for the sisters to Jeremy while I fixed the unraveling line of knitting. I think that they might have thought I was a little strange. What kind of 24 year old woman, gets up at 8 AM, travels on the bus, and knits with a bunch of old Catholic nuns? Well, if you know me, the answer is simple: Angela Bayout would. I barely spoke while there in the craft activity room, which has a window facing out to the campus green and an idol of St Francis.

The sisters, all of whom crocheted by the way, would joke among themselves and reminisce, usually filling me in on necessary details. A favorite story includes a sister who refused to say "breast" when it came to ordering chicken at the butcher. She would ask for "chicken chests." One of the sisters told a story about a funny experience she had as she was falling asleep. She swore it wasn't a dream because, well, she just knew. You know how you just know? She was lying in bed relaxing and in her ear she heard the name "Lucinda" clear as a bell. It was very beautiful, she said, and she had never heard of that name before then. Ever since then, she always liked that name.

They often talked about beauty, beauty in art that they studied, beauty in each other's shawl-in-progress, and just the natural beauty all around them. The stories and subjects were always positive, but most of all they were always honest and genuine. And, they rarely asked me any questions.

I suppose it's a sister's job to simply accept. It didn't matter why I was there or how I got there or what, they always expressed that they were simply glad that I was there. They never asked me if I went to church or even if I was religious in any way. They never asked anything of me or expected anything of me. They never ever asked me, "Why are you so quiet!?" They just expressed a gratitude for my knitting and an appreciation for my presence. It is so stunningly simple how easy it is to make a person feel good.

Being in the convent with them was always both calming and invigorating at the same time. When entering or exiting, I would often get confused since all of the halls sort of looked the same. I always seemed to turn left instead of right or right instead of left and I would end up in the lobby outside of the main chapel. The first time this happened, I was walking quickly so as not to be caught as a strange wanderer, I would almost run right into an idol of The Virgin Mary. She was chalk white, and though I would never have touched her, she looked feather soft. The air in that lobby was light but not thin. I'm stuck on trying to describe it as anything but just peaceful. But, also powerful. But, also completely good and accepting. I don't know, I just found myself caught off guard in this warmly lit, incredibly quiet (like, too quiet) room and I was totally awe struck by the sensation I got.

I might have been taken by the atmosphere, but even in the florescent-lighted craft room I felt that positivity. I think that the women there are just so kind and so loving of "all God's creatures" and all things under the sun, that their positivity fills that building and lifts it up like a flame on a hot air balloon. I think that if they could, they should give themselves more credit.

I am unwilling to say that it was actually, literally the spirit of God I sensed. I suppose I can say that it was the spirit, but I think that the spirit of God is another way of saying that these women exuded so much goodness that it produced some sort of affect on me. The fact that it happened to me at all is good enough for me.

I wasn't ever a Catholic and probably won't be. I don't want to be part of an organization where men do and say some of the worst possible things men can do and say. Most of my experiences with religion have been negative, so I'm not going to join the club. I'm just sort of dazzled by Catholic stuff. I like their grand architecture and Pagan way of things. I don't like that they sometimes feign humbleness with this grand architecture and ignore the obvious Paganism. Mostly, I love their organization of women, very good women. Not all of the sisters at Carlow were this way, but many of the individuals that I encountered over my seven years there were. I don't see them as Catholic nuns who are part of the aforementioned organization that I wish not to be a part of (especially in light of this), but I see them as inspiring women that go beyond aspirations.

Do you personally know a group of people who have or have had a deep affect on you?