Sister Poh?

Never in my life have I ever felt the need - or ever had the daring - to contemplate the possibilities of a monastic life. Until now. And it certainly does tear me up, frighten me, and keep me up at night thinking.

Singlehood is quite a different creature from monastry. Monastic living calls to focus the uncollected pieces of our lives. It is the setting aside of our devotion, attention and affections. It is not a waiting game, an interim or holding bay until something happens.

Done right, it is not an avenue of escape from life's cruel taunts, or a hiding place where we curl to lick our wounds, detach and disengage. It calls us to be present, to consciousness, to bear arms and face head on the wars that wage on inside us.

It doesn't stop us from feeling. Quite the contrary, it sets us free to feel, and challenges us to hold our mixed emotions and dubious intentions trial before the One who knows us better than we know ourselves.

It is a crucible where disciplines are formed and carved into stone.

It is a classroom of faith, where we learn that God is enough for us, that His grace is sufficient for us - that more than anything else, it is hope that animates our lives and give us reason to keep persisting.