Saint Agnes' Garden

By Diana Lynn Klueh

• Language: English
• Publisher: Authors Press
• Release date: May 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781643143132

Diana Lynn Klueh

Many years ago, Diana Lynn Klueh expressed in her journal her desire to become a children's author. What would it take to get started? She awoke one morning to a strong idea in her mind and heart: "Weeds in the Garden." She was mystified. How could she write a children's book about weeds in a garden? While volunteering with child survivors of domestic abuse, it became clear that these broken kids were not throw-away "weeds." They were actually precious flowers that belonged in life's garden. She observed these children wilting from abuse and family trauma. However, most of them thrived and "bloomed" with care and loving affection. Diana now enjoys life with her husband, two grown children, and three lively grandsons.

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 by Diana Lynn Klueh

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

REVIEW

BOOK TITLE: SAINT AGNES’ GARDEN

AUTHOR: DIANA LYNN KLUEH

REVIEWED BY: Kat Kennedy

I figured neither one of us was going to find much happiness in Terre Haute, Indiana. But Momma was hardheaded. That’s what Grandmomma Helen liked to say.

Jodie Sealy and her mother live in Biloxi, Mississippi, with her maternal grandmother; however, things are not going well between the two women. So Jodie’s mother decides to relocate to Terre Haute, Indiana, a move that Jodie and her grandmother are dead set against. In fact, Jodie has just discovered her desire to become a teaching nun and wishes to pursue this vocation at her current school, Sacred Heart Academy. Jodie admires Sacred Heart’s nuns and wants to emulate them as they were the most perfect ladies . . . never bothered with things that regular women had to worry about, like daddies or husbands who drank too much and acted ugly. But it’s a losing battle for Jodie and her grandmother, and she finds herself in a strange new school where she must make new friends. Though some of the students at her new school, St. Agnes, make fun of her because of her strange accent, others like the way she talks. Before long, Jodie finds her way and discovers she likes her new life.

The story’s main character, Jodie, must navigate as the only child of divorced parents while attending a Catholic school. When she moves to a new region of the country, she must also deal with the preconceptions

of those who initially think she must be ignorant because of her accent including her teacher, who divides the class into two groups: the roses and the dandelions. The roses are the bright students, and the dandelions are

the slower students. Even as a sixth-grader, Jodie realizes the audacity of dividing students into groups of weeds and flowers, and her sensibilities are insulted that one would do such a thing. Jodie comes to realize that even dandelions have a purpose and are perhaps even more spectacular than the singular rose.

Klueh’s book is inspired by The Story of a Soul, the autobiography of Saint Therese, the Carmelite nun known as the little flower. She draws especially from St. Therese’s quote concerning the differences in flowers: The splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of its scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness. The author’s extended metaphor is played out within the pages of this book beautifully as Jodie encounters the different personalities in her new school and reflects on each through a stream of consciousness dialogue written in a delightfully entertaining voice.

This 1950’s coming-of-age story is well-written with a strong female protagonist who is precocious, insightful, and resolute. Young readers will enjoy Jodie’s personality and her keen sense of justice as she navigates sixthgrade life in a new environment. As she learns to accept the individuality of each new friend, as well as deal with students for whom she doesn’t especially care, Jodie grows in faith and psychological maturity, making this a relevant book for young readers. Many will relate to the obstacles which Jodie faces throughout the book, including her parents’ divorce and their relationships with other people, her first crush, and the racism expressed by one student toward another. Klueh does a wonderful job of taking the pulse of the era and creating an enduring character in Jodie. Readers of all ages will find much to enjoy here.

Book Synopsis for Saint Agnes’ Garden

In 1955, Jodie Sealy is an outsider at Saint Agnes School. Her southern accent is mocked by some students, but loved by others. Her mamma is a free spirit who uproots Jodie, pulling her out of her comfortable school in Biloxi, Mississippi, and plunks her down in dreary Saint Agnes School in Terre Haute, Indiana.

Jodie learns what life is like in an underprivileged community and discovers that she has not been called to become a nun after all. She had been planning to take the veil since her childhood in Mississippi when she believed nuns were perfect ladies with no troubles. They never had to worry about missing daddies, free spirit moms or other grouchy kinfolks.

Life changes for Jodie. Her best friend has had a true calling to become a Sister of Mercy while Jodie finds her first love in her sixth-grade class.

Jodie begins to fine her true self when Sister Margaret Mary reads to them from a book by Saint Therese of Lisieux. Therese had learned in a revelation from God that we are all different kinds of flowers. We are loved equally in God’s garden whether we are a rose or a wild violet.

February 22, 2020

zDiana Lynn Klueh

Chapter One

Early in 1952, Momma and I had to move in with Grandmomma Helen Bouillet. She lived in a nice big house on Porter Avenue in Biloxi, Mississippi. Grandmomma liked to say we came crawlin’ back home just like she said we would. She had been right about everything.

Miss Patricia, she said to Momma. "Didn’t I tell y’all not to marry that airman? Bob was a good-lookin’ Yankee. I’ll grant you that. But you have to watch out for a man’s background.

Y’all never listened to me."

Right away, Grandmomma began to straighten me out. She said I was just like my momma when I wouldn’t mind or sassed back. So she sent me to Sacred Heart Academy where she and Momma had gone. Those nuns will make a lady out of you, Jodie Sealy, she said while waggling her finger back and forth in my face. They’ll take the vinegar and sass out of you. They didn’t get it all out of your momma. They liked to say she was a free spirit. That just meant she was spoiled. Her daddy liked to spoil her when he thought I wasn’t lookin’.

When Grandmomma and Momma fussed at one another, they acted like I was a deaf and dumb baby doll. They didn’t seem to care what they said as long as they weren’t talking directly at me. There might be a lady underneath the air force brat y’all caused her to be, Grandmomma said over my head.

Momma talked back. I figured she was still sassy. There wasn’t a blessed thing I could do with her. She acted like a wild little monkey.

Deep down I knew Momma was disappointed with me. Maybe if I hadn’t acted like a wild monkey, they might still be married, and Daddy wouldn’t drink too much whiskey and beer. When we lived at the air force base in California, Daddy yelled at Momma that I didn’t behave right. She yelled right back that it was his fault I wouldn’t mind. He’d shout orders at me, and then change his mind about what he wanted me to do. So I just did what I darn-well pleased. I sassed back, and figured I didn’t have to mind anybody.

Whenever they argued and yelled, I scooted under the bed and stayed a long time. It felt like we were riding a carousel that spun around way too fast until it broke down and we all flew off.

So, at Sacred Heart Academy, I tried my hardest to become a fine young lady - a perfect lady in thought, word and deed. I figured Grandmomma Helen would be real happy with me. She wouldn’t think about how disappointed she was with Momma and Daddy when she looked at me. She’d likely brag to her nice friends about her little darlin’.

Our principal, old Sister Veronica, told Momma and Grandmomma that I seemed to be bright enough, and I had some good breeding. That meant I was from a good family, on Grandmomma’s side anyway. Everybody said Sister Veronica was so old, she likely landed in Biloxi with the first boat load of priests and nuns who started converting the Indians. That was a lie, but they told it as a joke, then it wasn’t so bad. Grown people didn’t think they had to be perfect. Only kids and nuns had to be perfect.

I decided one day that nuns were the most perfect ladies. Everybody thought so. Even the grouchy ones who acted mean sometimes were truly ladies down deep. Otherwise, why would they want to be nuns? That’s what I wanted to be: A teaching nun. They were never bothered with things that regular women had to worry about, like daddies or husbands who drank too much and acted ugly.

My life began to take shape, secretly at first. I would conquer all my tendencies toward sass and vinegar until they dried up along with any pieces of free spirit. The first strong wind would blow them out on Biloxi Bay until they disappeared somewhere over the Gulf