Everyday Sin

         When Sister Mary welcomed God into her life, she also shut out everyone else. Her mother, her two sisters, the man who had almost become her husband. They were distractions, she said. She also shut out her sexuality, a thing that both frightened and excited her. She had grown tired of washing soiled underwear in the sink basin so that she would have a clean pair to wear for Mass. Now, the underwear she wore were bleached white cotton that covered every square inch of her posterior. And she never wore the same pair twice.
         Sister Mary shopped at convenience stores often. Everything in these stores felt clean and many things were divided out into single servings, even the pearly white underwear. And they were cheap. She had given up most of her material possessions after God came to her, and no longer worked for a living. Sister Mary had to spend her pennies wisely.
         After morning services, she stepped out into the sunlight of a fine Spring day and raised her face to the heavens. There were a few clouds but none that threatened rain. This was good because she walked everywhere and did not like carrying an umbrella. This would be a day she would enjoy walking.
         People stared at Sister Mary sometimes, but she had learned to ignore them. Not many people accepted the religious life. They wanted money and love and a million other unnecessary things. They were jealous of her, she thought, jealous that they did not have the courage to renounce their lives and follow God. Today a carful of teenagers jeered at her, their scraggly heads hanging out of windows like wilted sunflowers. She didn’t hear what they said because she focused her thoughts upon the Virgin Mary and chanted below her breath. With each footstep, she muttered another phrase. Hail Mary, full of grace – you old penguin, they shouted – blessed are thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus – did the priest rape any little boys today? – Holy Mary, mother of God – I bet you’re a dirty whore – pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death. Eventually, the car sped away, full of laughter. Amen.
         By the time she reached the store, she had started fingering through her rosary. It was a cheap string of red, plastic beads. It had sat in a shoebox of mementos until, at the age of thirty-six, she had rediscovered it. It was a gift given to her by a childhood friend shortly after her First Communion. Finding it brought her a sort of completion that she couldn’t explain. She had not seen this friend for more than ten years, and yet she felt that if their paths should ever cross again she would be able to recognize her. This friend would be shining, she said to herself, yes, shining with a love for Christ that had started burning at such a young age. It would be several years yet before Sister Mary would emit even a faint glow. Few people these days could achieve decent halos, and she had never seen anyone that devoted. Maybe she would when she finally saved up enough money for her pilgrimage to the Holy Land.
         Sister Mary sat on a bench outside to finish praying. When she first began her spiritual journey, she remembered reading about devout hermits who hid high up in ancient caves, reciting mantras. Each hermit chose his own mantra and repeated it with each inhalation and exhalation. By connecting these prayers to their breath, they could intentionally pray without moving their lips. All they had to do was breathe. In and out. In and out. Sister Mary preferred to wrap her mouth around the words, to truly taste them on her tongue. If she ever tried the breathing mantras, she would have to breathe very slowly to keep that taste. Otherwise, it would escape from her too quickly.
         Sister Mary tried very hard to prevent herself from sinning, in thought or deed. It was easy to stop doing sinful acts. All she had to do was to pause before moving, to allow that second for her conscience to kick in, and she would be fine. What was harder was stopping the thoughts. These she had to repeatedly punish herself for. Because thought could lead to action, and actions were unforgivable. Once one had acted, it could not be taken back. Thoughts, however, were more malleable than that. They could be molded from sinful thoughts into more righteous blessings. But they had to be caught, first.
         As she walked into the store, Sister Mary picked up one of the free flyers at the front door. She would use this as protection. As soon as a sinful thought started to creep into her mind, she would rap herself on the arm with the flyer as a reminder. In public places, it was easy for these thoughts to creep up on her. If she wasn’t paying close attention, they would jump up into her line of vision and blind her from what was good and just. Sister Mary could feel a warm greed rising up in her gut. This was the evil within her eagerly anticipating those thoughts that would come. She slapped the flyer against her arm as a warning to that evil side. You are not welcome, Devil, you are not welcome in this place.
         She moved past several young women gazing at themselves in mirrors. One was applying a purplish shade of lipstick to the inside of her wrist and watching it glimmer under the lights. The woman was hypnotized by the way the band of color caught the light. She kept turning her wrist from side to side. Side to side. Side to side. Sister Mary couldn’t help but notice a faint smile on the woman’s face, a joyfulness that sickened her.
         “Harlot,” Sister Mary muttered. She walked faster. As she reached the end of the aisle, she repeated it again and then gave herself a good smack on the arm. She had to constantly remind herself that not everyone had found God as she had. It wasn’t always their fault. But she was eager to judge and condemn. She hit herself again, wincing. “No, no, no,” she said to herself. “Stop those filthy thoughts.”
         She came to the underwear rack and started searching for her size. It was a new week. She would need at least seven or eight fresh pairs. A bald-headed man walked past her, humming to himself. He joined another man, shorter but with more hair, near the toothpaste. Motioning toward her, he whispered loudly. “Who would buy that stuff?” he asked. “I don’t know,” said his friend, laughing. “Apparently that old nun over there. Bet its rough as sandpaper, and I bet she likes it.”
         “Blasphemer,” Sister Mary muttered. She rapped against her arm, which now stung a bright pink. She had better find her way out of here and home quickly, before any more temptations arose. “You are such a sinner, Mary” she said as she brandished the flyer and flailed at her arm. “You must make confession this afternoon.”
         When she finally made her way up to the checkout line, she watched as several young girls purchased cigarettes. The cashier carded them and approved the sale, but Sister Mary still found herself questioning the age of the girls. She couldn’t seem to remember ever being that young. “Envy,” she whispered. “One of the seven deadly sins, you bitch!” She wailed on her arm. “You envious bitch.” A few customers looked at her, but she didn’t care. Such sins must be punished.
         The cashier greeted her with wide eyes. “What are you staring at?” asked Sister Mary. “Never seen a nun before?” The girl only stared, and it took a few moments before she could find her words.
         “Did you find everything alright today?” she asked.
         “Yes, thank you,” said Sister Mary, trying to cool her growing rage. She threw the underwear onto the counter, and watched the girl hesitantly touch it. “Don’t worry, I didn’t wear it yet,” she assured the girl. “Besides, even if I did, I sure as hell ain’t having sex am I?”
         The girl laughed nervously as she scanned each barcode and dropped the underwear into a plastic bag. Sister Mary leaned over the counter, her great bosom pressing against its flat surface. She lowered her voice so only the girl could hear her. “But you are, aren’t you?” she asked.
         The girl frowned for a moment and then plastered a false smile onto her lips. She took Sister Mary’s wrinkled bills and handed her back the change without a word.
         “Have a nice day,” said Sister Mary. As she walked out into the entryway, she started smacking herself violently. With each hit, she screamed at herself. “You horrible old sinner!” she shouted. “Why do you say these things? Why do you enjoy sinning?”
         Then she walked out into the sunshine and looked up at the clouds. It was such a beautiful day.