My Calling Into the Priesthood Essay

1485 Words 6 Pages
I didn’t have a say. It was fated when I was a child of just two or three that priesthood was my calling. Actually, it was mothers calling that I was to be a priest. She alone had set me on this path toward a life of spiritual obligation and self-sacrifice. By her decree, it was as assured as the rotation of the earth around the sun and water reaching it’s own level; as certain as my brother Zac’s destiny to become a doctor; and as inevitable as my sister Alice’s providence for marrying eventually into money, that I was to follow my uncle’s quiet footsteps and become a cleric of the Roman Catholic variety.
I have little if any memory of not being a priest. Mother’s obsession would certainly not allow me that void. Even as a young
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It gave my mother particular delight when I would place my hand lovingly on the top of the head of one of my siblings after serving them a communion wafer. She would smile, tilt her head and clasp her hands together and hold them lovingly between her cheek and shoulder.
Kiddie Confession, another of my mother’s favourite games, involved her conscripting unsuspecting children from the neighbourhood or cousins visiting and sitting them on one of two kitchen chairs placed on either side of the open pantry door. I’m not sure if my sister’s friends, three or four years older than I, appreciated being coerced into itemizing their latest peccadillos quietly to me and explaining how long it had been since their last confession. I listened to their numbers and their explanations while staring out the kitchen window, yearning to play baseball or soccer with my pals.
Despite my young age, I truly believed that my life’s work required that I listen intently without judgment to the sins admitted by these young people. Following their private disclosures, I would assign them their penance, which always was the same - five Hale Mary’s, three Glory Be’s, and one Our Father.
When my sister’s friends were in their early teen years, Kiddie Confessions took on an expected added spirit. Their sins became substantially – shall I say - more colourful and wayward than their younger confessions. At the time, although I remember enjoying their stories, I was not sure why I

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