V is for Vocation

v is for vocation“I see you’ve stopped smoking,” Mother Veronica Mary said.

The air was charged; molecules brushed against my skin singing for joy.

“Yes,” I replied. Tears pricked my eyes.

“How was it?” she asked.

“So easy,” I whispered.

Her forehead rumpled. I took a breath and repeated myself in a louder voice, “So easy. I just forgot to smoke.”

“Forgot?”

“Yes. I’d plan to have a cigarette at lunch and forget them in my desk. Or I’d forget while I was waiting at the bus.” I shrugged. “At first I was afraid: How could I forget to smoke? Then I realized it was a good thing so I just stopped.

“It’s what we discussed,” I said.

“Yes?” she asked.

“If I have a vocation, then quitting would be possible,” I replied.

“True,” she nodded. “Most young women find it more difficult.”

I lowered my head. How do I tell her? I mutely asked my Friend. The air sang about me. Oh well. I suppose just the truth.

“My life often goes that way,” I replied. “I pray and want and pray some more and even try to make myself be different. Then I just forget to poke at myself and one day, the change I want just happens. How varies. But the change happens.”

Mother Veronica Mary smiled, “How are you doing with your biography?”

“That’s hard,” I said shaking my head. “There’s so much. It’s daunting.”

“Perhaps Sister Justin Mary would be of help,” she suggested.

I shuddered. “Perhaps,” I said.

“Think about it,” she said. “And don’t be afraid to ask her for help. Remember, if you really have a vocation…”

I gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded, “Yes. If I don’t get it in a few days, I’ll ask her.”

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Comments

  1. What a moving installment. You never cease to touch me. I’m blessed to have gotten an online connection today and find this. I hope you are well.

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