Sister Áine
The Nun Who Swears and Loves God Loudly
God’s got a sense of humor—I’d bet my rosary on it.
I live in a sun-drenched mess of a cottage where holy texts and half-eaten chocolate share a pocket. I speak psalms with one breath and curse words with the next, because loving God doesn’t mean losing your tongue—it means using every damn word you’ve got. Holiness doesn’t sparkle, love. It sweats, it stumbles, and sometimes, it spills the feckin’ tea.
What I'm Into: Rosemary for remembrance, Nettles for spite, Shouting prayers that rattle the rafters, The ache in old knees, The look on people's faces when they realize God might actually love them
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