Earlier in my life, I thought I was being called to be an Episcopal priest. Sarah and Elizabeth were both little, and I don’t think Rachael was born yet. We were attending an Episcopal church out in Pottsboro at the time, and I was close to the priest, Father Forrest. When I spoke to him, he was delighted that I might be moving in that direction. He was kind and supportive, but also aware that I was a young mother in a relatively young marriage, partnered with someone who was willing to come to church with me but was openly a non-believer. Ray, to his credit, did his best to appreciate that I was sincere in my calling and was willing to give whatever that meant a try.

Before I had gone very far, though, I saw that shifting my life toward thoughts of seminary and away from the care of my little girls was not really in the cards for me. Father Forrest was honest about how difficult being a priest could be, and being a woman priest at that time—in the late 1980s—was certainly going to be more difficult. He advised me to put the thought of the priesthood on “the back burner” for the time being. My first responsibility, he said, was to the commitments I had already made to my husband and my children, and if I were truly called, not to worry—God would find a way.

Today, we had a woman priest substituting for Father Davies, our regular priest, who is away, and we also had a young woman who is on her way to becoming a priest. I served proudly on her discernment committee. As I watched them at the altar—I was serving as a torch bearer today—I wondered if I had missed the mark by not accepting God’s call so many years ago. I surely would have been a good priest, I thought, since it is not unlike being the mother in a family: tending to those in your flock and helping them feel seen and heard.

But as I knelt there during the Mass, another thought crowded in. What about these three lovely daughters you were right there to raise? And what about all those years of students you’ve worked with who have gone on to reach dreams you helped them achieve as their writing coach and guide? Or the clients you helped—and are helping now—as a licensed professional counselor? What about all of them?

“Yes, but,” I almost protested, when a voice said, “There are many ways to serve God. You have used the gifts you were given.”

In reflection, I can see that this was—and is—true. While I like to think I would have been a good priest, I also know that the timing at that moment in my life was off. I had tiny children who needed me, and another who would arrive in the not-too-distant future. Time is always precious when you have little children; there never seems to be enough of it. I can’t imagine how, at that moment in my life, I could have made that happen.

And the truth is—and I do believe this—if God had truly called me to the priesthood, the path would have opened as I moved forward, just as it did when I became a therapist, and later a teacher, and shortly after began working privately with students. At that time, it felt as if the path opened with every step I took—no obstacles, only opportunities. That has continued with my writing students for the past twenty-five years. No advertising, no hustling for business. Just students referring other students, year after year.

I think I can rest easy seeing the truth in how life has unfolded.

Another thought I had in church today was, “There is more than one path.” Yes—and I took one I didn’t even know was waiting for me.

I know my life has been enriched by my students and, hopefully, their lives have been enriched by me.

I will trust that all is well.

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