This weekend was eagerly awaited by the Jerosolimitan nuns in St Ursula Street, Valletta.

Firstly, yesterday was spring hunting referendum day, which meant it was one of the extraordinarily rare days they could step out of their cloistered monastery.

And more importantly for them, today is special for Sister Christine Borg and Sister Lillian Borg, who are sisters in Christ as well as in blood, because the Sr Christine will mark 25 years since taking the veil, while her younger sister will take her solemn perpetual vows in a ceremony presided over by the Archbishop in the beautifully decorated church of St Ursula.

These final vows will mark Sr Lillian, 36, as the latest woman to join the community of 13 nuns aged between 25 and 88, who are led by the bubbly and energetic Mother Agnese Zammit, who will soon mark her first year as prioress.

Sr Lillian and Sr Christine, 43, tell me of their two very different paths, which ultimately converged through Christ’s calling. Joined by Mother Agnese, 56, the nuns joke and playfully tease their prioress.

Their laughter is the only sound which permeates the stillness of the church, which exudes an almost infectious aura of peace and serenity reflected in the nuns themselves.

“I tell my nuns that we gave up everything to acquire everything,” Mother Agnese says.

“If the youths out there knew just how happy we are, we’d probably have no space in the monastery to house them all,” she quips.

Sr Christine explains that since she was a child, she always felt she wanted to become a nun.

“I used to say: ‘I want to join those nuns who never come out’. I didn’t even know whether they even existed. And I used to say that if they didn’t exist, I’d create them myself,” she says with a laugh.

“How the idea first entered my mind, I don’t know. There were boys who chased me but I used to immediately warn them they I wanted to become a nun so they would stop flirting with me.”

What prompted her to become a cloistered nun, leading a life of seclusion and prayer, as opposed to other orders?

Sr Christine replies that she always loved the contemplative life and would dedicate a lot of time to prayer, allowing the Lord to communicate His wishes to her.

That’s not to say that her decision was not accompanied by the inevitable sense of fear.

I tell my nuns that we gave up everything to acquire everything. If the youths out there knew just how happy we are, we’d have no space in the monastery to house them all

“You leave a lot behind you. Today’s world offers so much – there are mobile phones, the internet. Perhaps in the 1990s it was less so but still.

“But I kept my focus. One of our vows is that of poverty. Yes, I will deprive myself of many worldly materials but I will enrich myself with God.”

Did Sr Lillian decide to join the Jerosolimitan nuns because she missed her elder sister?

“No, not at all,” the two nuns chorus in unison and burst into a laugh.

Sr Lillian explains that, unlike her sister, she had never considered become a nun – and a cloistered one at that. Despite Sr Christine being a nun, she had never understood what having a ‘vocation’ or ‘calling’ meant.

“In my case, God first let me do whatever I pleased and then He pulled me by the ear and told me: ‘I want you here’,” she smiles.

She had led an active life – working as a secretary at a supermarket for nine years, frequently travelling abroad, having a lot of friends and dating a number of men.

But despite the seeming fullness of her life, she felt punctured by a gaping hole within her and a sense of emptiness which numbed her being.

Then one day, at a retreat with friends, a priest told each of her friends what he imagined they would become in the future. Turning to her, he told her he imagined her as a nun.

“I told him that we needed to talk. And I just wept – I felt so empty.”

She was directed to visit a number of monasteries to discern whether the life of a cloistered nun appealed to her.

“I was absolutely stunned when my Lillian told me she’d be joining us six years ago,” Sr Christine says.

I was stunned when she told me she’d be joining us. I just couldn’t believe it. She was always in Paceville

“I just couldn’t believe it. She was always hanging out in Paceville. I was rendered speechless.”

Cloistered nuns relinquish all material possessions to live a life of solitude and sacrifice. They can only see their families in the monastery’s parlour behind a lattice once a month. They watch TV for a very limited time once a week.

They can only step outside for hospital visits or to vote.

But under the direction of Mother Agnese, the nuns’ ‘constitution’ or set of rules is being revisited and brought up to date.

During the summer weekends, rules are slightly relaxed. Mother Agnese allows her nuns to watch a movie on a projector and eat snacks, as if they were in a cinema. During meal times, the nuns are not allowed to talk.

They have watched the Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter. Up next is Frozen.

Mother Agnese also took it into her hands to install a glass showcase stretching from one end of the wall to the other to gather and display all the monastery’s antiquities.

“We had no idea what we had – everything was scattered and hidden in the recesses of the monastery.

“We have artefacts dating to the 18th century such as a beautiful tea set forged out of silver. It’s some of the few remaining treasures dating to the Knights of St John because many of our treasures were taken away during Napoleon’s time.

“In fact the French had taken everything apart from the skull of Blessed Gerard, because they were afraid of it.”

Fra Gerard, who died in 1120, is believed to be the founder of the Knights Hospitaller. Hundreds of members of the Order make their way to the Valletta monastery to pay their respects before his relic.

“They are so devout,” Mother Agnese says.

“Groups and groups of people would flow in. We were absolutely stunned. And they’re so generous – I needed €800 to pay for the restoration of the arches in the monastery and they gave it to us.”

Mother Agnese is also overseeing restoration works in the monastery. Works on the living quarters are about to start shortly.

They are helped along by people’s generosity. Meanwhile, the monastery’s communal telephone frequently rings with people divulging their troubles and asking for prayers.

“There are so many problems and so much suffering,” Mother Agnese says.

“That’s what I tell my nuns – God has delivered us from so many problems.”

Personal life experiences have also prompted Mother Agnese to revisit the nuns’ constitution.

When her father, to whom she was very close to, was aged between 89 and 94, she used to visit him once a year at his home. She has now brought the timeframe down to once every six months in the case of sick and elderly parents.

Does she feel any guilt that she could not tend to her elderly parents in their hour of need?

“Yes, we feel it – we’re only human. When my father passed away, it was as if my world had collapsed. I thought to myself how cruel I was to have left home at the age of 18 and that I didn’t get to make the most out of my father. But the Lord has matured me.

“During Lent, we do not see people or otherwise communicate with outsiders. But the father of one of our youngest nuns fell ill. Her brother phoned me up to inform me and I told him: ‘What are you waiting for? Come for your sister and take her to his side.’

“I know too well what it feels like. We can’t keep living in the Medieval ages so it’s important to keep ourselves up to date so that youths can follow God’s calling and join us.”