I gather these six Belgian nuns in their living room. Their accents were thick and their hearts brilliant. “Hey,” I ask, “Would you guys mind . . . you know . . . moving out . . . and we could turn the convent into a school for gang members?” They looked at me, then at each other, and said simply, “Sure.” And that was the entirety of their discernment process. No stain of stinginess. The abundance of God breaks through the clouds in a solitary “Sure.”
