Personal Narrative: My Family's Cenacolo Community

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The sun shone through the swaying trees in Fullerton that day, children played at the park, dogs ran around fetching sticks, and the well known “Wheels on the Bus” song told all the kids that the ice cream truck was right around the corner. Every house had their air conditioning on and mothers were getting dinner ready for their families. Father’s were playing catch with their sons, or watching the news on TV.
It was the summer of 1999, and I was home for vacation from teaching in Chicago. During this time I was not happy with myself and I had an eating disorder, but I tried to cover it up because my parents did not know about it yet. I had my hair long, and I was very skinny. I had not been outside much in Chicago, so my skin was pale
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I then hung up the phone. Sad that my father did not approve of my choice, but ready to begin a new life I took a bus to Italy a few days after the phone call. Back at home my dad was in a frenzy. Thinking that I joined a cult he contacted all his friends, priests and sisters he knew asking him about the Cenacolo Community. Finally my parents recieved news that the community I was with had a branch in Florida. Being too worried and upset my dad stayed home while my mom flew to Florida to find out more about Cenacolo. Meanwhile in Italy I was living in the community and going through the same routine as everyone else. I loved the head sister Mother Elvira, she was always smiling and she had amazing advice for me and all the other young adults there. She taught us to not care about our outside appearance and to smile, love, be kind, and serve others. Mother Elvira made all the girls chop our hair of, which was hard for me because I had spent years getting my hair to be so long, but once I cut my hair I felt free. Life was beginning to have a purpose for me and I had never been so close to…show more content…
She had liked the community and she found out it was run by a very holy nun, Mother Elvira. Even after hearing the new my dad was still angry. He called the community and yelled at them saying that they had kidnapped his youngest daughter and were holding her against her own will. About a year later my dad finally got over the fact I was not coming home any time soon and he calmed down. Luckily he did because this was the year my oldest sister got married. I was debating whether or not to come because I was in the middle of becoming a nun and the community needed my help, but in the end decided to return for her wedding. I called my sister and told her that I would be there for her special day and asked if she would pick me up. Agreeing to pick me up on the Saturday before her wedding I got packed and ready to go. A surprise greeted me when I arrived at LAX. Instead of my sister, my parents had come to pick me up. Feeling awkward I casually greeted
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