Olga could be a model on the cover of Vogue magazine. She has the classic African beauty. She is slender and has a perfectly rounded head with hair cropped very short like a sculptured cap upon her skull. She is very proud of her African background. Her short haircut is a symbol of her pride in her heritage. In the culture of the Dominican Republic, long hair is the customary style for women and short hair is considered to be mannish. Olga has made a conscious, courageous decision to wear her hair very short in open acknowledgement of who she is. On the outside Olga looks as poised and confident as any Vogue model, but on the inside she is Olguita, ‘little Olga’, piecing together her life’s meaning in a series of stories which she herself began with ‘Once upon a time…’

Olguita was often alone. At night she would go behind her grandmother’s house and gaze up at the stars. She would focus on one particular bright star and address her longings to Jesus through it. There in the dark, beneath the stars, she felt at peace and wanted to share this peace with others. In her mother’s house there were two holy pictures, one of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and one of Maria Altagratia. Whenever Olguita would receive a good report from school she would roll up the paper and put it behind the picture of the Sacred Heart saying: ‘I did this for you.’ She would often kneel before the picture and say: ‘I want to be something useful.’ One day when she was at her grandmother’s lying on grandmother’s bed thinking; ‘What am I going to do?’ the word ‘nun’ came to mind. ‘No!’ she cried out in surprise. ‘Get someone whose family is healthy.’ But the idea stayed with her and she couldn’t shake it. She spoke seriously with her mother about it. Her mother was not encouraging: ‘You’ll never make it. Our family is not stable. We have no money and I can’t support your decision.’ Olguita went to her bedroom and cried to Jesus: ‘Why did you call me to this if I can’t do it?’

Olguita realized that her mother was right. All the sisters that she knew were white. They came from good families and they were rich. But when a lady catechist in the parish invited her to her home and said: ‘Is it true that you want to be a sister?’ Olga said: ‘Yes!’ The lady took her to visit the sisters at Monte Oracion, the Mountain of Prayer. She met Sister Gina who refuted all her mother’s objections: ‘your parents may be separated but that does not matter. They made their lives. You must make yours. You don’t need money to come to the Missionaries of the Sacred Heart. And as for support – we’ll walk with you.’ Olguita left Monte Oracion walking on air.

Shortly afterwards she left her tropical island to live with the sisters in Peru. Peru was a very different world from the Dominican Republic. The sisters were kind and Olguita tried very hard to be a good novice, but the experiences of her childhood began to loom large in her consciousness. At the completion of her novitiate the sisters gently suggested that she return home to the Dominican Republic, deal first with some of this unfinished business, then return to the community when she felt ready. It was oh so reasonable, but Olguita felt as if God was deserting her too.

Back once more in the Dominican Republic, Olguita found a job in the tobacco factory where her mother worked. Conditions in the factory were appalling: the heat was oppressive, the smell of sweating women and tobacco leaves was awful, work was difficult and wages were low. In the midst of the grind the women helped each other; they told one another their troubles; they shared their lunches. The first ones finished would not go home but stayed to help those who were lagging behind. For Olguita the awful tobacco factory job for her became a place of blessing. She worked side by side with her mother and the other women for four months and during that time the rift between mother and daughter healed. Forgiving her father is a slower process and she is still working on it.

Olguita rejoined the sister’s community and on August 14, 1999, Olga Altagratia Mata Sanchez joyously took her first vows as a Missionary Sister of the Sacred Heart in the midst of her religious family, her own family and well-wishers from all over the Dominican Republic. When she walked through the streets of her home neighborhood a few days’ later people shook her hand or kissed her. The old ones called her from their doorways and front verandas: ‘Felicitationes, Olguita. You have gained your heart’s desire.’ ‘Welcome home, Olguita. We’re so proud you are one of us.’