In my younger years we didn't attend mass much. We did do other culturally Catholic things though, like Lenten obligations and leaving up the Christmas tree for a long time. There was of course the lovely reaction of Catholic guilt and the fear of God.
When I was nine I went my cousins First Holy Communion. I don't think I had ever been so jealous in my life. We went bearing gifts, the one I wanted for myself was a Bible with my name engraved in gold. My young heart was afraid to as my mom why I wasn't allowed to do my sacraments. I thought I must of done something wrong. Turns out, I had done thing wrong at all. My mother enrolled us into CCD. Our classes were at the local Moose Lodge.
The main catechist was Sister Irene. I don't know what order she was with, but I loved her. I helped her with the rowdy boys who were younger. I helped lead prayer and even after I was done, I still helped her. I started confirmation classes,I started reading about Fransicans. Then....we were plucked away from the church and became Protestants. I didn't even get to say goodbye. The longer I was away, the further the idea of having a vocation went. I still had the calling to serve. Throughout high school I volunteered many hours for various things.
After my junior year I enlisted in the Marines. I was apart of the Delayed Entry Program for a year. I began volunteering at the snack bar for my brothers Little League games. In the back of my mind, sometimes I'd think about how much I missed my church. I still wanted to serve. I didn't think I would be allowed to.
I graduated and started a short career in the Marine Corps. After boot camp I was stationed in North Carolina. I someone who was Catholic. I started going to Mass. I went by myself, often walking out sad that I couldn't take communion. I was happiest though being apart of it. I still had that lingering feeling. The feeling to serve, and put my worldly desires on a shelf.
I dated a lot and enjoyed my short time in the Marines. I stopped going to Mass. I went home when my knees decided they didn't want to work properly. I still kept in contact with that Catholic Marine. My mom volunteered me to work in the nursery at her church. I often went to Mass when I lived on my own. I desired to be of service, I didn't want the married life with kids. I honestly didn't like kids or the thought love would end in divorce.
That Marine and I still exchanged letters we talked on phone sometimes. He shared how he once wanted to be a priest until he discovered girls and became a father. He had been a teen dad, married his high school girlfriend and was estranged. His drinking habits at the time were unhealthy and eventually he divorced.
We became engaged before his divorce was final. Before we actually exchanged vows, I offered to step aside to allow his daughter to have an intact family. I had figured if I was to serve, him and his first wife would mutually work on the marriage they had once had. Part of me wanted him to go back and part of me wanted to feel chosen.
We got married in February of 1999. We have been through a lot, spent many years in children's ministry in a Protestant church. Survived addiction and other bad habits. We have six kids at home. I sit here thinking back to the life I longed for. A life of service, God gave it to me...just not the way I envisioned it. No, I don't deny myself of all my worldly desires. But, my vocation is home. My life is spent serving others, not just the people in my home. We have gone back to the church of our childhoods. In just over a month the youngest two of our children will be getting baptized, we are close to having all our paperwork to submit for our church marriage.
So while I didn't become a Franciscan Sister as a vocation, I still got a vocation.
As a side note, I can become a Secular Franciscan sister at some point. Time will tell.
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