In her twenties and thirties, Monica Clare was a talented but exhausted photo editor who spent her days getting yelled at by clients who were often strung out on cocaine and megalomania. For years, the voice calling her to a simpler, quieter life had been getting louder. As a little kid, she’d seen Audrey Hepburn in The Nun’s Story and thought: That’s me. That’s how she found herself straightening her habit nervously as she walked into a convent, preparing to live alongside eleven other sisters who’d taken the same vow of poverty and celibacy . . . indefinitely. Could a chronically fidgety, pop culture–obsessed woman of the world ever fit in? she wondered. And why did the other nuns seem so cold and disapproving? As the months went on, she realized the other nuns were shy, not unfriendly—much like herself. The culture at the convent discouraged giving compliments or even saying “please” or “thank you,” since acts of generosity were to be freely given and received. But when Monica rose to the role of Sister Superior, she got the policy against compliments changed. Relationships started to blossom, first awkwardly and then more easily. Who would have predicted that Sister Christina, the one she thought had deeply disliked her from the start, would turn out to be a huge hugger? Or that they’d spend entire afternoons trying to keep a wild turkey from running amok in their community garden?