A New Vocation

     In March of 2003, I asked God to tell me his will for me. I asked this in the context of the discernment of my vocation to religious life, when I was struggling to decide whether I should or should not seek entrance to a monastery. As I wrote earlier, he gave me his answer very clearly, but I didn't feel at liberty to tell exactly how he gave it, and I still don't. All I can say is that the answer came in two parts. The first part was unmistakable: he was indeed calling me to contemplative religious life. The second, more enigamtic, part I didn't come to understand until after I left the monastery.

     Since I had given up my job and my apartment, indeed my whole life, in Houston, I went back to my parents' house in San Antonio. There I discovered my new ministry, and the meaning of the second part of the answer: my father's peripheral neuropathy and dementia with Lewy body had been growing worse, rendering him ever less mobile and independent. My mother, though remarkably strong and energetic for her age, could not care for him by herself. It was clear that I had to stay with them and help.

     God's wisdom is the cause and effect of all things. He knew that I would have been ill-equipped for this ministry, had I come to it directly from my life in Houston. I was not, in the remotest stretches of the imagination, a "caregiver." I was selfish, self-centered, self-serving, self-everything. Therefore, he wooed me slowly but surely back to his Church and placed me in the ultimate school of charity -- the monastery. There I observed daily the unflagging selflessness of the infirmary sister who took care of one of the older infirm, who dedicated nearly all her time and energy to her charge's needs. At the time I thought, could I ever be that selfless? Seeing them walk slowly down the halls of the cloister, the stronger, younger sister's hand firmly holding the hand of the older and weaker, I felt humbled and unworthy to be a nun; yet deep down, I was confident that, relying solely on God's grace, I could overcome my selfishness. Living in close quarters with 27 other women -- none of whom I had chosen to live with, some of whom I would never choose to live with -- taught me patience, tolerance, and discretion to an extent that wouldn't have been possible had I not followed the call to the cloister. God knew what I needed to learn charity. This was the unique path he forged for me.

     Now I see very clearly God's will and direction in my life, and pray that I may always bend my own will to his, and say "yes" to grace. I know he'll never, ever steer me wrong. My monastic training is still strong with me; its principals guide me and keep my actions firmly rooted in the Gospel. Being as faithful as I can to the Divine Office keeps prayer a vital part of my daily routine. Striving to stay in a recollected and prayerful state, even when doing the most mundane chores, keeps God at the core of my consciousness. For all this, I am eternally grateful to my monastic vocation and the loving Father who gave it to me.