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In the Narthex I laid aside my customary habit and was clothed in the Vlasyaniysa, a white robe similar to the baptismal robe. I took a deep breath and thought, “This is it. How did I make it to this moment?” I knew that it was only through sheer grace. I entered barefooted into St. John Cathedral as the Troparion of the Prodigal Son was being sung:
Haste! Open Your fatherly arms to me,for I have lived like the Prodigal.O Savior, do not despise my impoverished heart,that heart that gazes upon the fathomless wealth of Your mercy.For, I have sinned against Heaven, and before You!“That’s me” (the prodigal), I thought, as I walked down the aisle to make my life profession as a nun—a woman—broken, unworthy and sinful—yet irresistibly drawn by my Bridegroom to become His bride for eternity. I ached almost three years for this moment and with each prostration, I was filled with an increasing awe at the reality I was entering into.
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As I stood fully robed before an icon of Christ the Bridegroom, I closed my eyes and was overwhelmed with an indescribable sense of peace and joy. I do not know how long I basked in that state, but I was content to remain in it. When I opened my eyes, I was startled at the fact that I was standing in the front of the Cathedral before hundreds of witnesses. For a moment I thought, “How in the heck did I get here?” At the end of the long service, I turned around to be greeted by everyone and when I gazed at all the people present who have journeyed with me, I was filled with an edifying gift of love and thought, “Aaaah, they are how I got here.”
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