I
am first-generation American from the New York City metropolitan area.
My father was from Germany and my mother is from Cuba of Spanish
descent. My vocation experience began at an early age but at that time I
did not know what it was. While I was preparing for First Communion, I
began to pay more attention to the kids who were altar servers. Mass
bored me and I never understood the homily so my mind wandered a bit. I
was impressed by the robes worn by the altar servers and the attention
they seemed to show during Mass. I approached Father Greg who was great
with children. He made learning fun and genuinely made us excited to
come to Mass. As I got older, my responsibilities grew. Parishioners
ask for me by name to serve at funerals and weddings. My fellow
classmates would get a bit jealous when I was pulled out of class to
serve. What kid does not want to get out of class? You knew you made it
as an altar server when you were asked to partake in midnight Mass.
That's like the Super Bowl of Masses!
After
my Confirmation, I became too old be an altar server. So the next
natural step was to become a Eucharistic minister. Since Fr. Greg had
now left, it was now Fr. Rob who taught me. He was overjoyed that
several other classmates wanted to participate. Some time went by, and
as my high school life became more stressed and filled with activities, I
chose sleep over going to Mass. Some would say my spiritual journey
ended, and at that time, I would have to agree. The Holy Spirit never
stopped speaking to me. I just stopped making time to listen.
My twenties
were filled with youthful interests and frenzied social activities. I
always knew my life would be that of service but did not know the form
it would take. I was all over the place and tried everything but rarely
went to Mass. Lifeguarding was fun but it's not a career. Bartending
was fun but not a career. Acting and dancing, any type of performing,
were loads of fun. Making people smile is a great thing but not a
career for me. Medicine! That is where I should go! I then went to
school to become an EMT. After a few years of that I went to nursing
school and got my LPN license. I jumped from various EMS agencies and
police departments and lived a life of service and fun. My social
calendar was always packed. But despite all these, I still felt
something was missing.
I took care of
my father and having him die in my arms at home surrounded by family was
a turning point. A few months after his passing, I quit my police job,
went back to medicine, and bought a house in the Catskills Mountains.
With some money I had saved up, I surprised my mother and two brothers
with a family trip to do "El Camino de Santiago" ("The Walk of St.
James"). This was something my mother had always wanted to do, so I
figured better now, while she is still physically able. And just like
many who completed this journey, I had my religious awakening. It was
just me, my pack on my back, the open trail and not a soul for miles.
The world melted away and my path became clear. Upon my return home, I
began to notice that my social life was not as much fun as it used to
be. My mornings were not just filled with exhaustion and hangovers, but
there was an emptiness that could not be filled. Questions began to
pop up in my head- "Why", "Is this it?", "This is my life?" - I had
friends and colleagues telling me I should be happy. I had the American
dream - owned a home, cars, motorcycles, lavish vacations, designer
clothes, got invited to all the top parties and clubs. But I was not
happy. All of these could go away in a heartbeat. This was all
meaningless materialism that our pop culture has brainwashed us into
believing that we will not be truly happy unless we have this list of
things.
I started to
spend more time at my mountain home away from the madness of Manhattan.
No TV, powered down my computer, and turned off my iPhone. I began to
listen like I did on El Camino! Little by little I weaned myself off of
social media. Just like any other addiction, I stumbled but plugged
along. The weeks went by. One day, I had a desire to sit on my computer
and googled "Carmelite nuns." My family has a long history with Our
Lady of Mount Carmel. But that is a story for another time. So behold
the first site to pop up was the Carmelite Sisters for the Aged and
Infirm. I clicked, went to the vocation page and called the vocation
director to ask for a meeting. Each journey begins with one step. Mine
began with a phone call. As I hang up the phone, I thought in
disbelief," What have I done? I'm crazy! people will think I'm nuts. I
can't tell anyone!"
Days turned
into weeks and weeks turned into months. The more I spoke and texted
Sister Maria Therese, the more I knew that this was my path in life.
She called me a "character." We laughed and I shared my journey, my
wild and crazy youth spent days. She showed me the joy of community.
The love, compassion and patience she had for me was beautiful. As
rough around the edges that I was and still am, she welcomed me. Every
Sister I have met since then has greeted and welcomed me with open arms.
Religious life is a bit of a culture shock. Had I not prepared myself
by slowly pulling away from the world over the course of a year, I'm
sure my entrance experience would have been far different and most
likely been difficult. I struggle to find the proper words to convey
how I feel and how the Holy Spirit has moved me. So I shall give a
humble and perhaps oversimplified analogy. Remember during those hot
summer days when all you wanted was an ice cream? Then in the distance
you hear that familiar tune. You race to your mother to ask for some
money. Jumping up and down, she says yes, and hands you a dollar. That
joy and titillation you feel as you race after the ice cream truck. It
is that same feeling. The feeling of the Holy Spirit saying "This is
right. This is where you belong."
To
answer the question I'm sure is at the forefront of your mind - "not in
the slightest." I do not miss my homes, cars, motorcycles, social
life, designer clothes, jewelry, etc. When your basic needs of food,
shelter and clothing are met, everything else becomes unimportant.
Earthly goods mean nothing when you can spend your days with Christ
helping your fellow man at the end of their journey on this earth.
Throughout all my stumbles and missteps, Jesus was there. I might not
have been able to see him, or want to even listen, but he was there.
When I cried, he cried with me. When I laughed, he laughed with me.
When I fell flat on my face, he was there to give me the strength to get
back up again and to say, "Okay God. I messed up. How do we fix this?"
Luctor et emergo ("I struggle and emerge").
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