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“Here Come the Nicolases!”

I've decided to become a nun. I know Papa won't be happy to hear of this because it will upend his plans for me to become a lawyer!

From the days when he used to sit me on his knee, it's been understood that law and politics are to be my calling. That is, until I went off to college and messed things up. Well, it can't be helped because, after all, it's my life. It's hardly as though I'm looking to pursue a vocation that will besmirch the family name.

Plus, shouldn't it count for something if I make myself happy, while simultaneously following what I believe is God's path for me?

I haven't actually entered a nunnery yet, so I've still got time to figure out how to spin things in a way that makes everyone feel good about my decision. Until then, I'm not sharing my nunnery aspiration with anyone.

Not my siblings, not my friends, and especially not Papa.

Choosing a Path

Thanks to my sterling high school grades, I wind up with a plethora of attractive college options. St. Theresa's College, which is in Manila, gets the nod over another school in the same city, Scholastica's College. St. Theresa's wins partially because it's closer to Papa's Nicfur Furniture store, which has a small apartment behind the showroom. The apartment will be my home during my stint at St. Theresa's College.

After mistakenly assuming I could stop studying nonstop like I did in high school, and still get top grades. I discover the error of my ways when my first‐semester report card arrives. Although I earn 90s in philosophy, literature, history, and mathematics, I receive a 77 in Spanish. Huh? This grade enrages me because it erases any chance I have of being classified magna cum laude or summa cum laude upon graduation.

For three doggone centuries, my country was considered a Spanish colony, until the United States took over the colonizer role around 1898, aborting the Philippines’ nascent revolution against Spain.

Spanish was widely spoken throughout the Philippines up till World War II. In fact, Mama's father—Don Roman Mañalac—speaks only in Spanish, as does Mama. So my ear is definitely attuned to the language, yet it still manages to trip me up. Spanish classes are mandatory at all Philippine colleges and universities. Good grief! My ire isn't directed at my instructor but at myself for failing to resort to my usual study habits.

After my less than impressive grade in Spanish, I return to my tried‐and‐true study routine with single‐minded intensity. Plus, I join the Sodality, an organization that honors the Blessed Virgin Mary. And on Fridays, I work with a group that delivers food and clothing to Manila's impoverished and homeless residents.

As if this weren't enough, I also write for the school newsletter, “The Theresian”; lend my talents to a literary publication known as “The ORION”; sign up for a poetry reading group whose members include male students from Ateneo de Manila University; and join a group called “Girls’ Friday” that's composed of college women involved with Student Catholic Action.

Despite that strenuous academic/extracurricular load, when commencement day arrives, I receive a liberal arts degree in humanities with cum laude honors. I also get a Catholic Action Award during commencement, to my great surprise!

After graduation, my friend and classmate Violeta Calvo heads off to the University of the Philippines College of Law in Quezon City, while I remain in Manila, where I teach catechism classes in the public school system and work as a Philippines history instructor at Philippines Women's University, a well‐known, non‐sectarian school. In my characteristic fashion, I also sign up for evening classes offered by the University of the Philippines College of Law in Manila, in lieu of the day law classes offered on the Diliman campus.

After balancing this murderous schedule on the way to earning a year's worth of law school credits, I wise up, decide to attend law school full time, and join Violeta at UP‐Diliman, while remaining steadfast in my decision to join a nunnery. Having learned the hard way that legal study requires my undivided attention, I make it a point not to tackle any teaching jobs.

UP‐Diliman is a bastion of liberalism, serious scholarship, and is the top educational institution in the country when I enroll in 1963. Many leaders from the worlds of medicine, politics, industry, architecture, and fine arts are UP‐Diliman graduates, as are a slew of noteworthy writers.

None of the Catholic‐aligned educational institutions in the Philippines are particularly fond of the University of the Philippines, which they consider a hotbed of communism, along with being antagonistic toward Catholicism.

The Catholic academicians hostile to the University of the Philippines would be very surprised to know that one of its students—me—is stealthily attending off‐campus, informational sessions where the Notre Dame de Vie Institute talks about nuns and the work that nuns do. I find the Institute attractive because, the nuns associated with it wear ordinary clothes while working as secretaries, teachers, social workers, etc.

The thought of gliding through Quezon City as an incognito nun appeals to me. It would be interesting to rub shoulders with people who are none the wiser that I've taken vows of poverty, obedience, and chastity.

Established by a French priest, the Notre Dame de Vie Institute is a Catholic religious organization with offices located in a small house in Quezon City. I'm one of about 10 young Filipinas from all walks of life who are curious to see what devoting the rest of our lives to God might be like.

As would‐be nuns, we all share the same overarching goal: to follow Christ in His spirit of love and service.

After a year of listening to Notre Dame de Vie Institute lectures primarily given by Mother Superior Marie Goux, she challenges me to make the toughest decision of my young life. Noting how seamlessly I've adapted to the Notre Dame de Vie Institute and its mission, Mother Superior tells me that if I intend to take my vows to become a nun, I'll need to start my formal training on July 4, 1965.

Even though I'm currently a second‐year student at the University of the Philippines College of Law, I sure could use some wise counsel right now. Mama has always been an invaluable touchstone during times like this, so I need to swallow my pride and unveil the big secret I've been keeping from her.

“Loida,” she tells me in a neutral‐sounding voice, “you're in your second year of law school, and you have two years left. Wouldn't it make sense to get your law degree and then pass the bar before you enter a nunnery?

“After that, you can go wherever you want to go. Whether you're in a convent or not, that degree will always be yours, and you won't have to depend on anybody.”

As always, Mama's thoughtful advice makes a world of sense. The next time I visit the Notre Dame de Vie Institute, it's with the intention of informing Mother Superior that I won't be moving forward with my training come July 4.

“You are like fruit that is not ripe yet,” Mother Superior says in that kindly way of hers. “But you are full of integrity, and your motives are pure. And who knows, the fruit may yet fall from the tree.”

Mother Superior's response enables me to walk away from the Notre Dame de Vie Institute, and the possibility of becoming a nun, with an untroubled heart. When you are not ready, you are not ready.

Just because becoming a nun is no longer in my future, that doesn't mean I can no longer be of service to people. With that in mind, when my third year of law school rolls around, I seek election to UP's Student Council as part of a ticket headed by law school classmate Macapanton “Jun” Abbas, Jr. While Jun loses, I win a very narrow margin and am elected to the position of university councilor!

Jun may not have captured the hearts and minds of UP's students, but he certainly did a masterful job when it comes to winning my heart and mind! A brilliant debater and eloquent speaker who has Chinese facial features, Jun possesses one of the sharpest minds within our Law Class of 1967 cohort. Without setting out to, he's created stirrings within me that I didn't know existed.

I wonder if he has any clue my heart dances to an exciting new rhythm whenever he comes around? The same feelings are being felt by three of my girlfriends who are just as mesmerized by Jun's gravitas, wit, and charm as I am.

But Jun has a fatal flaw in my book: He's a devout Muslim who dreams of creating a Moslem state within the Philippines. Even so, there will always be a special place in my heart for Jun, because who doesn't remember their first crush? Plus, I've been broadened by befriending someone of the Islamic faith.

However, due to my Catholic faith, I don't think I could enter into a serious relationship with a Muslim, and I'm pretty sure Jun would never marry a non‐Muslim unless she first converted to Islam. Be that as it may, the butterflies and sweaty palms I experienced in Jun's presence were interesting, to say the least.

Not long after our bid for student government posts, US...