"In another few weeks, they'll have the cast off your leg and you can go home."
"I hope so, Jennie," I said.
Suddenly, I realized she wasn't wearing her hospital white.
"This is the first time I've seen you in a black veil, Jennie.
Is it something special?"
"No, Jonas.
This is what I always wear, except when I'm on duty in the hospital."
"Then this is your day off?"
"There are no days off in the service of Our Saviour," she said simply. "No, Jonas, I've come to say good-by."
"Good-by?
But I don't understand.
You said it would be a few weeks before I- "
"I'm going away, Jonas."
I stared up at her stupidly. "Going away?"
"Yes, Jonas," she said quietly. "I’ve only been here at Mercy Hospital until I could get transportation to the Philippines.
We're rebuilding a hospital there that was destroyed in the war.
Now I am free to leave, by plane."
"But you can't, Jennie," I said.
"You can't leave the people you know, the language you speak.
You'll be a stranger there, you'll be alone."
Her fingers touched the crucifix hanging from the black leather cincture beneath her garment.
A quiet look of calm deepened in her gray eyes.
"I am never alone," she said simply.
"He is always with me."
"You don't have to, Jennie," I said. I took the pamphlet that I'd found on the table by my bed and opened it. "You've only made a temporary profession. You can resign any time you want.
There's still a three-year probationary period before you take your final vows.
You don't belong here, Jennie. It's only because you were hurt and angry.
You're much too young and beautiful to hide your life away behind a black veil." She still did not answer. "Don't you understand what I’m saying, Jennie?
I want you to come back where you belong."
She closed her eyes slowly and when she opened them, they were misted with tears.
But when she spoke, her voice was steady with the sureness of her knowledge and faith.
"It's you who don't understand, Jonas," she said.
"I have no place to which I desire to return, for it is here, in His house, that I belong."
I started to speak but she raised her hand gently.
"You think I came to Him out of hurt and anger?
You're wrong," she said quietly.
"One does not run from life to God, one runs to God for life.
All my years I sought Him, without knowing what I was seeking.
The love I found out there was a mere mockery of what I knew love could be; the charity I gave was but the smallest fraction of the charity in me to give; the mercy I showed was nothing compared with His mercy within me.
Here, in His house and in His work, I have found a greater love than any I have ever known.
Through His love, I have found security and contentment and happiness, in accordance with His divine will."
She paused for a moment, looking down at the crucifix in her fingers.
When she looked up again, her eyes were clear and untroubled.
"Is there anything in this world, Jonas, that can offer more than God?"
I didn't answer.
Slowly she held out her left hand toward me.
I looked down and saw the heavy silver ring on her third finger.
"He has invited me into His house," she said softly, "and I have taken His ring to wear so that I may dwell in His glory forever."
I took her hand and pressed my lips to the ring.
I felt her fingers brush my hair lightly, then she moved to the foot of my bed, where she turned to look at me.