MY FUTURE IS IN GOD'S HANDS.

(A Young Woman's Vocation Story)

"I'm leaving. I'm going to become a nun."

"You're joking!" My colleague was silent for a minute, then she said:

"So, what, did you get a call?"

That was one of the many reactions I had in breaking my news to workmates, family and friends. Sheer disbelief was usually the first reaction. Once that point was passed there were lots of questions. The one question that I knew would be the hardest to answer was, strangely enough, never asked. That question: "Why?"

Why does a thirty-one year old, with two university degrees, give up her job and move to another state to become a Carmelite nun? It's not an easy question to answer, but I'll try by sketching the story of my journey.

I was brought up in a Catholic household and attended Catholic schools. I accepted by Catholic faith in the same way that I accepted that my parents were my parents. Attending Mass or saying prayers was like having breakfast. It wasn't something that I ever thought about, I just did it. Even in my teenage years, when I could not have named another person my age who attended Mass I kept going.

There were two things I could not doubt: firstly, that God existed and secondly, that the Catholic Faith was true. I could not have produced a cogent arguemt for my beliefs had anyone tried to argue with me, but in my heart, I could not have denied those beliefs. Such was my faith well into my twenties. I had often thought that there had to be more to faith than I was experiencing, but I did not know what.

One Lent I decided that I would attend Mass for the duration of Lent. This was an effort for me as I did not like going to daily Mass. However, I did it, and at the end of Lent I found, to my surprise, that if I did not go I felt as if I had missed something important. So from that time I began to attend daily Mass.

In 1997, I went World Youth Day with the youth group to which I belonged. We were to spend a week in Paris and then make pilgrimages to various places in France and Italy. Our group consisted of twenty one young people and two priests who were younger than I was. That was a shock to me. Priests belonged to my parents' generation, not mine. At the age of 29, meeting two priests younger than me made me feel old. It also made me wonder where my own life was going.

It did not take me long to realise that I liked and admired those two priests very much. Their sincerity was obvious, in the way they celebrated Mass, in their homilies, in their wearing of clerical dress, and in all they said and did. At the same time, they were great company, with good humour, good sense and interesting conversation.

Those three weeks were an amazing experience for me. I was surrounded by people who took their faith seriously and showed a real joy in living it. I enjoyed myself, yet at the same time I was moody. I was searching for something, but I didn't know what.

Eventually, I spoke to one of the young priests about what I was going through.

"Have you ever considered a religious vocation?" he asked.

I had. Twice before. Five years earlier I had attended a talk given by a particular Order. Nothing in their stories struck a chord with me, so I went away, happy, thinking that was that. A few years later I started thinking about it again and I spoke to the chaplain of our youth group. He suggested that I visit various Orders and stay with them. At that point I had visions of nuns trying to talk me into believing that I had a vocation, so I let the matter drop.

I admitted to the young priest that I had thought about it before and he replied that I needed to do more than think about it. I had to do something. I agreed, but when I got back home I realised that I did not know what to do. If there had been such a thing as a "diocesan" nun I think I would have been knocking on the door of those people in charge, but I didn't know where to start with investigating Orders. I did nothing.

On a visit to my part of the country next year, the priest I had spoken to reminded me of our conversation. I became angry and upset. It was easy for him I thought. He knew he had a vocation. I didn't. At most, I thought, it was possible that I had vocation - that was all. I was scared. Not so much at the idea of having a vocation, but of being persuaded that I had one when I didn't. My six years of teriary study had been followed by two years of unemployment. I had been very grateful to finally get a job. I didn't want to risk losing. I didn't want to find myself entering a religious Order, realising it was a mistake and coming back to find myself unemployed and maybe unemployable. At the same time, I knew that if this was a call from God, it would be wrong to turn away. But how could I know?

I wrote a highly illogical, confused letter to the second of the two priests I had met overseas, asking for help. He wrote back and told me to stop using my emotions and start using my head. He gave me a number of steps as guidlines. The third step was to go and talk to people, find out about Orders, find out what they do, find out what they believe and see where it was consistent with what I believed.

After that I contacted the priest from our youth group and asked for the names of some Orders that he would recommend. Eventually, I started writing letter. I received answers and wrote again. After a while I visited one of the Orders in my home town. It was a strange experience. I enjoyed my visit. I admired the nuns and respected the work they did. If one had a vocation, this would be a good place to be, and yet...

I kept writing to other Orders interstate. When one suggested I visit, I stopped writing. I couldn't have visited interstate without my family finding out, and I wasn't ready for that.

I didn't want anyone who knew me to know anything about my thoughts. I feared both encouragement and discouragement. I kept writing to the other Order - the Carmelites.

Around this time I changed parishes. I felt very much at home in my new parish. The two priests always dealt in their homilies with the ongoing call of the Christian life. I would sometimes arrive early for Mass and find them praying in the Church. I felt a great respect for these priests and I also developed the realisation of how difficult it must be at times to stand up and openly proclaim teaching that many people did not want to hear. It made me think about the importance of praying for priests.

I was still writing to the Carmelites. Many years earlier, I had read the autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux and had been very impressed by her deep love for God and the importance in her life of prayer and total surrender to God. I remember thinking that it would be a great thing to be a Carmelite, and that if I were a great and noble soul I would give up everything and join them. Then I laughed at my mental picture. Me, a Carmelite? It was impossible.

Yet by the time the invitation came to visit the Carmel, I knew I had to accept it. I arranged to take time off work and broke the news to my parents.

Walking into the Carmelite chapel the next morning, the first thing I saw was a statue of St. Teresa, and the thought went through my head "this is it!". I was more than a little surprised by the thought. While I had read the autobiography of St. Teresa, I would not have said that I had any devotion to her. I decided to ignore the thought and go back to thinking rationally.

At my meeting with the Prioress, she asked me to tell her why I thought I had a vocation. I started by saying that I was far from certain that I did and then proceeded to tell m story. At the end of it she said that there was no such thingk as a typical story, mine fitten into the general pattern. I felt a curious sense of relief. I felt maybe it was possible at last that I could find out God's plan for my life.

Even so, the idea frightened me. The gulf between a Carmelite nun and me seemed huge. What if I was wrong? I had a lot to lose, and not just in a material sense. In any other Order it might have been possible to find a sense of identity in what I did, to be able to take with me the skills that I had developed, to know that i had some "security" in those skills. To the Carmelites I could take nothing. I would have to expose myself to a level of vulnerability from which my years of study had been designed to protect me.

I talked with the Prioress about many things. One of these was "mental prayer". the Prioress suggested a method of mental prayer for me and suggested that I needed time it each day. I spent time quietly praying in the Chapel in those five days and I became calmer about the idea of my vocation.

When I arrived back home I had a strong sense that I wanted to return to the Carmelites, but I decided to put this to the test. I contacted the other religious Order I had been writing to, and arranged to spend similar amount of time with them.

I had a fabulous five days with that community. I "lived" the religious life for those days and I loved it. I realised that religious life was a normal life, and that the people who live it are normal people who, with the grace of God, try to live out the Christian life to the fullest. In those five days I realised that I had to try religious life. The question was - where? I asked myself "if I ask to be accepted here, will I find myself thinking of the Carmelites, or would the contrary be true?" I felt I had to return to the Carmelites, at least to try.

I visited the Carmelites again and spoke of my wishes to the Prioress. She asked why I wanted to enter Carmel. I'm not sure what I said, but I spoke of the desire for prayer that had grown in me, especially during the last months of my search, and of my desire to help and support priests and other religious through prayer.

I went home and told my parents of my decision and made my formal application to Carmel. When I had been officially accepted, I broke the news to my wider family, friends and colleagues, receiving a variety of reactions. I've had comments like "don't throw your life away" and "it's an immoral waste of a life".

I don't think it's a waste. I know myself well enough to know that this is not something I would ever have chosen for myself; that it can only be by God's grace that I can look forward to my entrance with a sense of wonder and gratitude that God should ask this of me.

I don't know what lies ahead. It may be that I won't be suited to the Carmelite life. The purpose of becoming a postulant is to find out. My future is in God's Hands, and for the first time in my life, I'm prepared to leave it there.