A Midnight Conversation

The heavy wooden doors of St. Augustine's Convent had long since closed for the night, and the dim glow of candlelight flickered inside Maria's small chamber. She sat by the window, staring at the dark sky, lost in thought. The events of the past days had left a deep impact on her. The practical classes, the visit to St. Luke's Hospice, and the lessons on evangelization—all of it weighed on her mind.

But tonight, she felt a need to share her thoughts with someone who would understand. She reached for her phone, hidden beneath her pillow, and quietly dialed a number she hadn't called in weeks.

The line rang twice before a familiar, warm voice answered.

Ayesha: (whispering)

"Maria? Is that you?"

Maria smiled, relieved to hear her friend's voice.

Maria: (softly)

"Yes, Ayesha, it's me. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

Ayesha: (gently laughing)

"Of course not! You know I always have time for you. It's been so long since we talked. How have you been?"

Maria sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

Maria:

"I don't even know where to begin, Ayesha. So much has happened. We've been attending practical classes outside the convent, meeting people, sharing the Gospel… it's been overwhelming but also eye-opening."

Ayesha's voice softened.

Ayesha:

"Tell me everything. I want to hear all about it."

Maria leaned back against her pillow, staring at the ceiling as she spoke.

The Practical Classes

Maria:

"The first class was about serving the community. Sister Orlean Watt taught us that as nuns, our role is not just to pray but to be a living example of Christ's love. She made us visit a hospice for the elderly, Ayesha… and it was heartbreaking."

Ayesha: (curious)

"What did you see there?"

Maria:

"Loneliness. So much loneliness. We met an old man, Mr. Reynolds. He used to be a church organist, but now he can barely move his fingers. He told us how he spent his whole life playing for Sunday masses, but now he just sits by the window, forgotten."

Ayesha was silent for a moment.

Ayesha:

"That's so sad… Did you talk to him?"

Maria: (nodding, even though Ayesha couldn't see her)

"Yes. I told him that even if he can't play anymore, the faith he spread through his music still lives on. And you know what, Ayesha? He cried. He actually cried."

Ayesha let out a small sigh.

Ayesha:

"Maria, that's beautiful. You comforted him. That's what real service is—giving people hope when they have none."

Maria felt warmth spread in her chest.

Teaching Catechism and Evangelization

Maria: (continuing)

"Then, we were taught about evangelization—how to spread faith through our actions. Sister Orlean said that words mean nothing if our lives don't reflect Christ's love. And it made me think, Ayesha…"

She hesitated.

Ayesha: (encouragingly)

"Think about what?"

Maria took a deep breath.

Maria:

"If faith is truly about love and actions, then why do so many people argue over it? Why do they force it upon others instead of letting their kindness speak for itself?"

Ayesha's voice was thoughtful.

Ayesha:

"That's a deep question, Maria. Every religion teaches love, but people twist it into something else. True faith should never be about force—it should be about conviction, about what's in your heart."

Maria felt a lump form in her throat.

Maria: (softly)

"That's exactly what I feel. But here, it's difficult to ask these questions. The moment I bring up faith from a different perspective, people get defensive. A few days ago, I mentioned Islam in class, and it turned into a heated debate. Some students even accused Islam of being spread by the sword and terrorism."

Ayesha's voice hardened.

Ayesha:

"That must have been tough for you. What did you say?"

Maria clenched her fists.

Maria:

"I defended Islam the best I could. I told them that Islam teaches peace, that it calls for justice, that the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) was known for his kindness. But Ayesha… I could see it in their eyes. They weren't listening. They had already made up their minds."

Ayesha: (sadly)

"It's the same everywhere, Maria. People fear what they don't understand. But you did the right thing by speaking up. Even if only one person truly heard you, it was worth it."

Maria smiled faintly.

The Most Difficult Part

Maria:

"You know, there was another moment that shook me. We had a discussion on the challenges and joys of religious commitment. I compared it with Islamic teachings, but this time, my teacher, Sister Carla, became angry. She said I was causing trouble by bringing up Islam too often."

Ayesha's voice tensed.

Ayesha:

"And what did you do?"

Maria hesitated before answering.

Maria:

"I tried to stay calm, but the conversation got heated. Just when it was about to get worse, Sister Alex walked by and stopped it. She warned me not to compare Christianity and Islam again."

There was silence on the other end.

Ayesha: (softly)

"Sister Alex knows about you, doesn't she?"

Maria closed her eyes.

Maria:

"Yes. And I think she's protecting me in her own way. She doesn't want me to get into trouble. But Ayesha… I feel like I can't hold back anymore. The more I learn, the more I want to know. The more I want to understand."

Ayesha's voice was filled with warmth.

Ayesha:

"Then don't hold back, Maria. Keep learning. Keep searching for the truth. No one can take that away from you."

Maria smiled, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

A Silent Prayer

The clock struck midnight. Maria knew she had to end the call soon before someone discovered her awake.

Maria: (whispering)

"Ayesha, thank you for listening. I needed this conversation more than you know."

Ayesha chuckled softly.

Ayesha:

"Anytime, Maria. You're never alone. And remember, the journey of faith isn't about where you start—it's about where your heart leads you."

Maria wiped away a stray tear.

Maria: (softly)

"Good night, Ayesha."

Ayesha: (gently)

"Good night, Maria. May Allah guide you."

As Maria ended the call and placed the phone back under her pillow, she let out a deep breath. The night was quiet, but inside her heart, a storm was raging. She was standing at the edge of something unknown—something life-changing.

And for the first time, she wasn't afraid.