At the Crossroads: Discerning my Vocation

At the Crossroads: Discerning God’s Will

By Cara E. Ruegg

Available to purchase on my Etsy page

I was about 16-years old when I not only decided I was going to become Catholic, but a Religious Sister. I even contacted the Franciscan Sisters in Kansas City, told them I wanted to be a “nun”. The Sister I was speaking to scurried along and got Mother Superior for me. She began discussing the process with me when I blurted out, “I’m not Catholic yet”. I wouldn’t be surprised if she mentally did a back-flip. They ended up sending me a Catechism in the mail and the location of a Latin Mass for me to attend. 

My family was at first very shocked by this decision of mine, and I cannot say it met with much favor initially. They didn’t understand why, and it probably didn’t help that I added to the mix “I want to be a nun”. My poor, bewildered mother said to me during this pre-conversion time something along the lines of, “You are all or nothing. It can’t just be half-way with you. You can’t just become Catholic, you need to become a nun too!” 

But, you know, I was a teenager. They were probably hoping I’d date and find a guy and not really go through with this plan. It was all a phase. An odd act of rebellion. They were wrong. 

Years went by. I was looking at Carmel for a while. They told me, due to my lack of foundation as a convert, I needed to immerse myself in a good Catholic environment. I chose St. Marys. I was there for a couple years and I loved it. While there, I met an order of Sisters who were visiting. I would join them not a year from then, but a month. Yeah, you heard me right, I went across the world and managed to do that in about a month. I had never flown internationally before, didn’t have a passport, didn’t have a visa, didn’t have much money, but I was determined. I wanted this. I was about 22 at this time. I felt like I had been waiting long enough and Mother was willing for me to come for the new school year. I prayed to St. Therese, I bugged her to shorten my wait and make it possible. Everything fell into place. I got my passport, my visa, a benefactor to pay for my flight all in a few weeks time. 

I left for the convent on the feast of the Purification of Mary. I didn’t even plan it that way, but I had been praying to her to light my candle so that I could come and meet my bridegroom, comparing myself to the foolish virgins. It dawned on me then, during Mass, that that prayer was answered; I felt, symbolically, she lit my candle, gave me the wax foolish me had forgotten, and sent me on my way.

My faith was still very sentimental and immature at this point. I took full advantage living at St. Marys, going to daily Mass and participating in the Divine liturgy as far as possible, but I was still lacking that foundation many cradle Catholics get from their family, their Catholic upbringing. I didn’t have that. I came from a broken home. I had gone to public school my whole life. I was just learning at St. Marys how to truly be feminine. Before St. Marys, I usually only wore a dress for Mass, pants all the other times.

My faith grew in the convent. It was purified. All of me was purified. Two weeks in, and a terrible dryness hit that only left for very short periods of time for those two and a half years. For about six straight months in my canonical year, my faith was tested unimaginably. With my will, I hope I did not consent, but thoughts came to my head that heaven didn’t exist, that there was just nothingness, that I was giving up a family of my own, a child of my own, for nothing. These thoughts had come before in my life, of course, but never so strongly. There were times I was worried I believed them. I felt a repulsion during prayer, literally. 

Before, probably, escape would’ve been the route I would’ve taken. I didn’t take that route though, not during this dark time. I waited. I told God I loved Him even though I felt the complete opposite. I continued to get up at 5am, go to Office, go to Mass, obey my superiors. I was very open with my superiors about my crosses. A part of me wanted them or my confessor to just tell me to leave, but they didn’t. And I couldn’t leave. Not then. I was scared and confused and I loved God and did not want to turn my back on Him. I did not want to refuse His call. And I was in the dark. With St. Ignatius ringing in my head, with my confessor’s advice as well, I knew I could not make a decision when I was in the midst of a storm. I had to wait for the calm.

Around this time I wrote a poem I would like to share with you that conveys in some way my struggles:

I breathe the wind

Into swollen lungs

Red eyes blink

And all is gone.

It disappears

At least for a moment

Standing at the crossroads

Nervous and trembling

Do I even want anything?

There is no silent conviction

There is no conviction at all

There is nothing

My heart is torn

It is broken

It cannot decide

To be loved

In a special way

By a person I can see

And hear and touch

It seems much more real

Even if it’s not

Even if it’s in fact false

A fickle thing

This love of humans

Changes like the wind

God is eternal

His love infinite

And He gives me Himself

He gives me everything

Where is my gratitude?

The ground beneath my feet

Is hard

The grass cannot be seen

Under this dirt

What do I want?

Nothing

And everything

At once

The world’s vanities

Make me shrink

But so does the cross

Of my Jesus

Covered in blood

And I want to be brave

I want to give Him everything

All of me

Not counting the cost

But I’m a coward

And I stand here

At the crossroads

Wavering

“Dear God”

He seems far away

Gone

I once felt His peace

Such a wonderful calm

There is nothing now

I am numb

The little children huddle around me

But do they really care?

In the end, they go home

And I’m not ever there.

My Sisters laugh and joke

But still a barrier I hold

My heart can’t get attached

Not to a human soul

I want a shoulder to cry on

A friend to wipe my tears

I want to be loved by someone

But I am here

Before a silent God

Who I know is before me

But who I cannot see

And cannot hear

And cannot feel

At all.

The romance of the cross

Should be enough

It should be all

But the crucifix

On the wall

Is motionless

He beckoned me

And I responded

I said, “Yes,

I’d follow His call”

Now here He is

Silent

I’ve crossed the ocean

I’ve left behind my home

I let myself be forgotten

Erased from memories of loved ones

Affections have gone cold

They have changed, gone old

But I am here, frozen

I still care…too much

And they don’t know.

I cannot tell them. 

And will I be happy

In the world?

I cannot see over this picket fence

And do not know

If there is any grass there at all.

And can I give up the treasure

Of a baby I can call my own

Tiny hands and soft feet

Eyes that look like my own?

For God. For God. For God.

How dry and tasteless

I feel

Shattered in a silent way

No tears

No pain

I’m just not happy

Waves aren’t crashing

All about me

I cannot even cry.

“Dear, God,

I want Your will

Not mine”

My peace did come when I was in the chapel, making my evening meditation. At this point, there were five months left before my vows. The pressure to make a decision was almost overwhelming some days. I was completely torn. Canonical year was over, I was now teaching a little, which helped a lot, because it gave me an outlet, but I still felt the strong desire for a child of my own and it was that that I just couldn’t seem to let go. Of course, it was natural and I knew that. My confessor told me if I did not want this desire, he’d think something were wrong with me, that it’s not going to just not exist because I chose the life of celibacy. The other sisters of course had it too, but they did not seem as restless as me about it. 

But peace came suddenly, while I was praying. It wasn’t anything too amazing, no consoling feelings or anything, just a calm I hadn’t felt in a long time. My first thought, once it hit, was that I could keep going, that I could do this, it wasn’t so bad. But then I stopped myself, “No, Sister, this is your time to make a decision.” So, I prayed and I reflected on what God’s will was for me. I knew God alone could fully satisfy me, that no creature could ever do that, however, there was some sort of inner conviction that God wanted me to move on elsewhere. I wasn't certain of it. I even left with the pretext that I might be back. Mother said the doors were always open if I decided to return.

I called my parents and let them know my decision. To my amazement, they gave better advice than even some “Catholic parents” of some of the other women who had tried their vocation there. Over skype, my mom said to me, “Okay, I’m going to try not to be selfish.” and then began to list things she knew I’d miss such as the prayer life I wouldn’t get to such a degree in the married state. My dad, likewise, also brought up how I was happiest when I wanted to be a Sister. When I told him before that I was having doubts, he told me the wise words that my confessor had been telling me: not to make a decision when in the dark, but to wait. They both desperately wanted me home, especially since at this point I hadn’t seen them since my clothing ceremony, which they came to and were deeply touched by, but they put their wants aside because more than me home, they wanted me truly happy and, I like to think, they also wanted to do God’s will at least in this area and I pray that this sacrifice they made of me to Him will merit their conversion and, ultimately, heavenly bliss. 

It was hard going back to the world, but I found peace and, while I cannot say with certainty, I do think I did the right thing. However, I do not regret the time I spent in the convent. It was not wasted. It gave me a foundation I may not have gotten otherwise. Funnily enough, if I had not spent the length of time in the convent that I did, I may never have met my Canadian husband who I was later introduced to by a woman I met toward the last year and a half I was in the convent. 

All in all, I am blessed. Blessed that God granted me the grace of conversion and blessed that He gave me the privilege of entering, even if just a short time, into a profoundly intimate relationship with Him in the convent. Those years truly shaped me. I was a child before them and I left with a much stronger spiritual formation; I left a Catholic woman. And those Sisters were so full of joy, it was contagious and I greatly enjoyed their simplicity and kindness; they taught me how to sacrifice for the good of the community, something that must also be applied to family life. And I saw clearly how beautiful of a life it is to be a Sister, a bride of Christ, and I hope to possibly be able to foster a vocation in my future children, God willing.