Shanghai'd by Jesus

It's been a big few weeks. Ever since I came out to a priest about my call to ordained ministry it's all become terrifyingly Real. Real as in Real Work and Real Consequences, plus, there are the ghosts of Kristin and Jason. Kristin and Jason were two of my college room mates; they are both priests who had it "all figured out" by their senior year in college. Can you imagine having it all figured out at 22?

I don't know much about Kristin's journey, I left before she really got started; but I was there for the beginning of Jason's discernment. Jason was smooth. Like, Clinton smooth. He could have gone into politics just as easily as the priesthood and I'd be surprised if he didn't become a bishop someday. Hell, if we had a pope he'd probably be that. He was great, a wonder to watch. Jason wasn't just likeable, he was electable, and that's what worries me: Am I electable?

Okay, backstory: I like to call the time before I moved to Texas "The Crazy Days" It's easier than explaining the whole bizarre family/mystery illness/time of trial thing. I just say I was nutso, C'est tout. Of course, I wasn't crazy; I was different. While my friends were taking the path most traveled by --a very good and difficult path, to be sure--I was blind folded, thrown into a sack and dropped into the middle of the woods left with nothing but the voice of God (was it God? Am I sure? How do I know? What if I'm wrong? p.s. how Abraham/Kierkegaard is that?) saying "C'mon, it'll put hair on your chest"

So I've spent the past few years getting a metaphysically hairy chest and now that I'm ready to start putting my chest to work (there's really no good way to say that, is there?) I'm terrified those Crazy Years are going to come back and haunt me. Like somehow I won't be able to make people understand that I wasn't nuts then and I'm certainly not nuts now. Sort of like John the Baptist, but without all the locusts and silver platters.

Ow.

This post was brought to you by fear, trembling, and two bottles of Nair.