The divine signs came to me through all channels and mediums. Even the girl in the ill-fitting naughty nun costume on my doorstep Halloween weekend was a message. The fact that she was trick-or-treating with a shot glass necklace did nothing to curb the impact of this divine appeal.
After graduation, while my college roommates packed their cars indiscriminately for their future graduate schools and internships, I packed modestly: running sneakers, a few photos from my former life to cry over later, the clothes with the greatest fabric-to-body ratio. I hid a couple of CDs and candy bars in the bottom of my suitcase; there would be plenty of time to grow more ascetic later.
Anyone who has grown up with 12 years of Catholic school education may be familiar with the annual 'vocation awareness weeks,' where teachers carted around a token sister, priest or seminarian to various classrooms to give you the 'I too never thought I would be a [blank] but then look at me now' talk. Their shock was always evident.
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