At which point my attention wanders to the arguing children down the hall, or to the pot boiling over on the stove, or the dog barking his head off at a squirrel in the backyard. You know, important things like that.
I’ve prayed to know my vocation my whole life. It began when I was very small, and a well-meaning, but terribly misinformed individual let me know that I had to make sure I did just what God had picked out for me, or else I might not make it to heaven when I grew up. After that I prayed for knowledge of His will with a vengeance. As I grew older, I came to understand that I would not be condemned to hell if I was a nun instead of a mother, or a mother instead of a nun, or single person instead of a mother, etc. God was not some poker dealer holding all the cards and laughing at me under His green visor as I tried to guess whether to call or raise. Instead He simply wanted what was best for me, even more than I wanted it for myself.
When I was in high school, a religious sister suggested that I pray three Hail Marys every night for guidance in finding God’s call. So I did. Night after night I prayed the three quick prayers, then fell asleep exhausted from the day’s labors. As the years wore on, and I received no neon sign as to which of the “big three” was my life’s calling, I gradually focused less and less on long-term, and what I considered my “down the road” vocation, and more on what God was calling me to each day. In what small, or large, way was He calling me to serve today? Tomorrow? I would pray for guidance, but I still didn’t seem to be getting any. And more years passed.
Then something very important occurred to me, something that I had missed for a long, long time. Each time I would pray, I would implore God to give me some insight, however small, into His greater plan for my life. But I would not even wait half a minute before moving on to something else. I was asking, all right. I was beating down heaven’s door with my entreaties! But I never even gave a thought to waiting for an answer.
People say that conversation is a lost art. They say we talk and talk, but we never really say anything. It’s true that perhaps most of the things we say to each other and most of the things we say to God are of little global significance or lasting consequence. Yet they are important to us. They are not just so much “nothing.” The real trick, the one that people miss when they aren’t very good conversationalists, is the art of listening. It’s easy to talk. It’s easy to be thinking of what you want to say next when someone else is talking. And it’s easy to look interested without ever hearing a word of what you’re being told. I know. I tune out my little brother’s description of his latest action figures all the time!
And that is exactly what I was doing to God. I gave Him my lists, and my desired deadlines, and my requests and petitions, all the time focusing only on what I wanted and on what I was saying. I planned out when and how I might pray next, so as to bend His heavenly ear to my pleading voice and perhaps get Him to answer me. I prayed rosaries, I lit prayer candles, I offered up Mass intentions I did it all. The only thing I failed to do was listen.
I still don’t have all the answers I seek. I don’t know what my vocation is supposed to be. I don’t know where I’ll be spending the rest of my life, or the next few years of it. If I’m honest with myself, I have to admit I don’t really even know exactly what I’ll be doing tomorrow. But I do know one thing. The next time I ask God a question, I’m going to be quiet for a bit. So when He does choose to speak… I’ll be listening.
© Copyright 2005 Catholic Exchange
Pamela Acker holds a BA in biology and recently embarked on a career in genetics. Her homeschool education included extensive readings in Catholic doctrine, and she continues to devote much of her free time to improving her understanding of theology and helping others understand their faith. Her e-mail address is pjacker1s@yahoo.com.