When we were in Nashville for my friend's profession of vows we did not have directions to get from the Cathedral, where the Mass was, to the convent, where the reception was. I planned on following our friends but that idea was quickly shown to be a bad one when we lost them as people filtered onto the road from three different parking lots. Factor in a traffic light and we were on our own.
And then we spotted a car with a couple of nuns. Hallelujah! They were clearly Nashville Dominicans, they were two cars ahead of us, and so we felt safe following them back to the convent.
When they turned where all the other cars from the cathedral went straight we wondered if they were taking a short cut or going somewhere else but we stuck with them. And then they made a quick turn - clearly a last minute decision - leaving us to wait for traffic. A red light meant we were able to catch up with them and a couple of blocks later, at another red light, we decided we needed to talk with the nuns.
I jumped out of the van, ran up to the passenger window and knocked on it.
The sisters were startled and I had to gesture and ask them to roll down the window because they were just staring at me.
"Are you going to the convent?" I asked.
"Yes! Do you want to follow us?"
"Yes! We have been. So no more quick turning!" I said in a slightly scolding tone while making a turning gesture that was more like a flail of my arm. I was feeling a little bit of pressure since I was barefooted on the streets of downtown Nashville, hoping the light wouldn't change.
The sisters laughed and laughed as I ran back to the van and hopped in. They turned and waved, still laughing at me.
I forgot to tell Sr. Marie Noelle the story and on the way home to Illinois Travis and I wondered if the sisters in the car told the story but no one knew who the crazy lady was. It was me.