The Call

When I was in high school, I was in a Catholic youth group. It was weird in all the ways one may expect a fairly conservative Catholic youth group to be. I have mixed feelings on that group and how it was run but there are many positives that came from it. Some of the people I met there are still among my closest friends. The ways in which we’ve changed since then fascinate me and sometimes crack me up. If not for that group, I probably wouldn’t have gone to a Jesuit college and if I didn’t go to a Jesuit college I probably wouldn’t have done the Jesuit Volunteer Corps and if not for JVC I probably wouldn’t have gone into social work. I loved St. Joe’s and JVC and social work, so I’m happy about that group and the place it held in my life. All this to say that at one of those high school retreats I was assigned to give a talk called “Our Call to Love.”

I remember being sixteen and writing that talk and thinking it was all pretty simple. Duh guys, we’re called to be nice to everyone and help people out in whatever ways we can. I said a bunch of nice stuff about volunteering and played “Hammer and a Nail” by the Indigo Girls and then probably had some fraught with weird sexual tension not so deep chat about it with a kid from Delbarton. The usual.

At St. Joe’s I often attended mass on Sundays at 10pm. I didn’t really know what I believed but I liked the community and the ambience and the music. Whenever my thoughts turned to the typical college student “what am I going to do with my life” track, I found solace in the song “We Are Called.” It was a kickass tune and Tim, who often sang it, has a kickass voice (as his subsequent Broadway career indicated). But the lyrics are what really got me. “We are called to act with justice; we are called to love tenderly. We are called to serve one another; to walk humbly with God.” Well shit. That just sums it right up. Except how the hell are we supposed to do THAT?

I have a love/hate relationship with the concept of a “calling.” The word kind of weirds me out and seems too evangelical for my liking but I do love the idea that there’s a reason or reasons why each person is on this earth and an important part of life is figuring out those reasons. Whether that’s our “calling” or just doing what we love to do, it’s something I give a fair amount of thought.

Last weekend I attended the ordination ceremony for a friend at church. It was a beautiful service filled with great music and friends and family. When talking about why she chose to become a pastor, my friend said that above all else it’s because it’s what brings her joy. Having heard a number of her sermons and sung with her at services and participated in the small groups that she’s organized, I can say that she is excellent at what she does and she brings a unique blend of talents to a very unique job. There’s something so cool about watching someone do the thing that she seems to have been put here to do.

The next day I went to see a friend’s show at the Neofuturarium. He’s been known to put on some very bizarre performances but this one took the damn cake. It was a mime/clown/bouffon character that was just about the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen on a stage. There’s no explaining it. It’s always been pretty standard to make fun of clowns and mimes and think they’re totally freakish and possibly annoying. I was in that camp for a long time. In my defense, when I was about 8, I watched an episode of “Fantasy Island” involving terrifying clowns that scarred me for many years. Point being, as I was watching my friend’s performance I was completely mesmerized. It was unsettling and horrifying and hilarious and beautiful and inspiring. The amount of talent, research and awareness of people and art and humanity all wrapped up in this weirdass performance astounded me and made me think about the concept of calling again. He is doing what seems like only he could do as well. He is making the world a better place with this crazy shit.

Last night I went to a friend’s poetry reading. I grew up writing in journals and being very angsty so one would think I would’ve tried my hand at some poetry, at least in my teenage years. But I never really got poetry. I didn’t think I liked it that much. I would read stuff for English classes and either thought it was completely dumb and pretentious or I just didn’t understand it at all. Listening to my friend’s poems put me in a bit of a trance. I was swept up into her world of family and travels and science. I wanted to know more about my friend, and her experiences, and the topics she brought up in her poems, and I wanted to know more about poetry in general. As I listened, I thought- I guess this is what happens when someone finds her calling. She is good at what she does and it clearly brings her joy.

The woman who works at the Western Brown Line stop weekday mornings has a joyful presence that I’ve grown to depend on each day. She says hello to everyone with sincerity and kindness. A few weeks ago a guy walked through the doors and ran over to her and shouted, “I missed you!” She said, “I missed you too! How was your vacation?!” “Great!” he said. Then he smiled and pulled a Ziploc bag out of his backpack. “We made cookies last night so I brought some for you!” Last week, a guy came through the turnstile and said to her, “I haven’t seen you in a while because…” He paused for a second. “I got laid off last week.” She immediately said, “OH NO! WHAT HAPPENED?!” and he walked over and leaned on the booth next to where she was standing, and filled her in. I hope that this woman finds joy in her job because she is extremely good at it and is bringing happiness to so many people each day.

When I think about all my family and friends, so many are doing what they seemed to be called to do- whether it be in medicine or parenthood or as an attorney, a teacher or a CPA or a musician. It’s inspiring. I’ve never been one to focus too much on my career in the long-term. I hate being asked in interviews where I see myself in 5 years. I have no idea. Most major decisions in my life in terms of my career were made because it felt like the right decision for me at the time. I did a semester of grad school in anthropology because, at the time, I was really into Appalachia and the beauty and challenges there, and I had visions of becoming an expert in it and doing something…I didn’t know what…that would change Appalachia for the better forever. Then I decided that anthropology wasn’t for me, and it seemed really clear to me that my next step was to go to grad school for Social Work.

I went out with a bunch of coworkers after work on Friday. I’ve been working there for just about five months so I’m still getting to know everyone. We all exchanged a bunch of heartwarming and hilarious and sometimes tragic stories of the trials and tribulations involved in the not so glamorous world of social services. I drank my Daisy Cutter and ate my chipotle grilled cheese and I was happy. A coworker who works directly with clients was asking me about grantwriting and if I miss working directly with clients. I said that I feel like I’m in the perfect place right now because I love interacting with people and feeling connected to what’s going on, but that I enjoy writing and getting to think about the big picture. She said, “I’m so happy you’re here. We need you and not many people have the skills and desire to be doing what you’re doing.” Huh…looky there. Maybe I’ve found what I’m good at and supposed to be doing. Calling? Who knows but it’s bringing me joy right now.