My computer is giving me a blank look. Its Saturday evening, and Ive been staring out my window harvesting memories for a while now trying to think of where, or how, to begin my vocation story. But enough thinking. Id better start to write.

       

       In hindsight, everything that led up to the discovery of my vocation seems so obvious, but at the time, it wasnt that clear at all. Looking back over the years, God seems to point out to me all the coincidences and clues he was dropping and which I never seemed to pick up on. Magdalena, he seems to tell me, do you see this? And this? Remember that? That was me.

      

       One such hint makes me laugh now. I think it was the first time I ever considered being a nun. I was lying on the living room rug watching The Song of Bernadette. If nuns got to see Our Lady, then that was a good enough reason to become one. However, after having watched the way St. Bernadette had to suffer, the notion of a vocation was dismissed before the credits even began to roll.

 

NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP

 

      Mom, I called down the hallway.

      Go to sleep, Maida.

 

      I lay in my bed thinking little eight year old thoughts.

 

       I didnt like my nickname. I wondered why they had to call me Maida when my real name was Magdalena. It sounded much more elegant. But then Sister Anitas real name was Carola. They just had to call her a different name when she became a nun. If I became a nun, I would be called Sister Magdalena; because I was sure that God called me by my real name.

        

       And when he called me, he did.

 

       Aside from the Bernadette experience, the thought of becoming a nun never struck me. A Spanish congregation of nuns, the Handmaids of the Sacred Heart ran my school in Santiago, Chile, where I grew up, and I loved them. I always went to talk to the nuns. The sisters even came to my house for lunch, but as much as I admired and enjoyed being with them, I was the only one who seemed to overlook the obvious. Everyone thought that I had a vocation but me. After getting consecrated my parents admitted that since I was in grade school the whole family had been wondering which congregation I would join. 

 

NICKNAMES

 

       Nothing kept me still or tied me down. Maybe they called me Maida because they could never get me to stay still long enough to pronounce all of Magdalena. God used my natural interests to draw me closer and closer to him.

       In college, Id do humanitarian work on weekends up in the rural mountain areas with a group of friends. We built houses and set up irrigation systems, but I wasnt doing it for credits for my architecture courses. I loved being up in the mountains with the villagers, living a little of their life with them and in some way meeting Jesus Christ in their needs. Those times motivated me to pray more and better.

       

       Another one of my many natural interests was music. My guitar (Geronima was its name) was my right arm; it went everywhere with me. In high school I hit the music scene, so to speak. I played the guitar, wrote lyrics and sang; and sometimes my friends and I would go to music festivals and perform. I remember spending hours in my room writing music. It wasnt only self-expression. Writing songs, singing at festivals all of it became a way for me to grow closer to Christ. Today the passion for music remains. I continue to write and play. Music is still my prayer.

 

WAS THAT MY NAME I HEARD?

 

       My first encounter with the Legionaries of Christ led me to discern Gods will for my life. It was Gods providence that brought them into my life.

 

       In the last year or two of high school, I started looking for ways to live my faith more actively. When I started college, I headed straight to the pastoral department. It happened that just that year, the Legionaries had been put in charge of it.

       

       Through the Legionaries, I met the Regnum Christi Movement. Regnum Christi fascinated me from the very first moment I joined it. It had what I was looking for: fidelity to the Church, love for the Pope, charity and apostolic zeal. 

 

       My involvement in Regnum Christi brought my spiritual life to a higher level. I began receiving the sacraments more frequently: going to daily Mass and confession once a month. My prayer life began to mature and a spiritual thirst grew in my soul.

 

WHISPERS

 

       It was a beautiful summer day in February of 1986. (Remember, Chilean summer is during the Northern Hemispheres winter.) Regnum Christi was starting an elementary school and some friends and I had volunteered to help out.

      

       Making our way to the future kindergarten we surveyed the boring monochrome walls those would have to be the first to go. We pried open our paint cans and got to work. 

      

       When about three of the classrooms were covered with painted ducks and rainbows, a group of four young women walked in and invited us to break for lunch. None of us had ever met them before, but their smiles and the promise of food were welcomed. We were starving.

       

       Over lunch and coffee, they introduced themselves as consecrated women of Regnum Christi. Theyd arrived in Chile the day before and would be working in the school when it opened. Even though Id been a Regnum Christi member for four years, Id never heard about the consecrated women. Maybe someone had mentioned something about them, but I never made a connection. 

      

       That was the first of many meetings. I did not want to admit it, but as time passed I was growing more and more attracted to the consecrated women and their way of life. When I did my morning prayers or went to Mass I could feel that Christ wanted more from me. It made me nervous. I started to pray just a little less and only go to Mass every other day, excusing myself. Its true that I was busy, but this had never influenced my spiritual life before.

 

       I had to face the fact that I felt a call to the consecrated life; a call that began with my name: Magdalena. But I could not bear to listen to it. I did not want to talk about it.

 

       Finally, I turned to Our Lady. I entrusted my discernment to her and prayed a Hail Mary everyday, for six months, asking her to help me follow Gods will. I loved Christ too much to let him down, but I didnt see what God wanted clearly. So for those six months I begged Our Lady for her guidance and I never went to bed without saying my Hail Mary.

 

A CALL, AND AN ANSWER

 

       In April I went on a retreat, and my heart seemed more open. In prayer and during Mass I saw Christs call more clearly, but I still refused to acknowledge it openly to anyone. I was afraid maybe that they would pressure me into following the call, or dissuade me from it: it was something that I both wanted very much and at the same time didnt want at all.

 

       A week after the retreat, my resolve broke. I needed to sort things out, but I could not do it by myself, so I went to my spiritual guide, a consecrated woman, for help. I slowly stammered out that I thought I might have a vocation. For as nervous as I was, her response both surprised me and gave me a great sense of peace. She didnt try to push me into the chapel to make my promises, or tell me that I was imagining things. She simply gave me two bits of advice: be open to Gods will, and build a stronger prayer life. What a relief!

 

A PERSONAL INVITATION

      

       Around the same time I had met the Legionaries (during my freshman year at college); Id also met two co-workers from Mexico. Their joy and zeal attracted me, and I decided that I would give two years as a co-worker once I finished college.

      

       Of course when I made that decision I was under the impression that it would only take me five years to finish college. I did not realize that I would switch majors halfway through. That meant starting school all over again as a freshman - five more years to finish my degree. I kept the idea in the back of my mind, but surely it was Gods plan that I would wait until I had finished school. Up until that point my plans and Gods had seemed to fit so perfectly.

       May of 1986: things took a bit of a turn. A friend came up to me and said:

       Magdalena, what are you doing for the next 12 months? You and I should be co-workers starting now.

       Ridiculous.  I still had two years of school left.

      You know I began. And then I replied:  You know, youre probably right.

      I could hardly believe the words were leaving my mouth! I was agreeing with her!

      Be realistic, Magdalena, I told myself, you know you dont have the money, and theres probably no way youll get the time off school

 

CALLING THINGS BY THEIR REAL NAME

 

       Everything about being a co-worker worked out. Amazingly, my parents offered to help out with the expenses and the university agreed to hold my credits for two years. Things were going in the right direction, but dont get the impression that it was easy.

      

       My co-worker assignment was to Madrid, Spain. I had never been away from my family before, and Spain, for as nice as it was, wasnt Chile. I missed my family and friend and country so badly.       I began to cry before I even got on the plane.

       Maida, are you going to come back? my father asked me with a worried look as they called my boarding group.

       Of course, Dad, I hastened to reassure him. Of course I would come back to Chile, but we both knew that that wasnt what he meant.

       

CALL WAITING

 

       Someone told me once that if you give God your hand, hell grab your arm and leg too. How true. Looking back now I can see how I thought becoming a co-worker would serve as an escape hatch from the vocation. In some ways it was.  But Christs call, come, follow me, still echoed in my mind. I was giving Christ two years while he was awaiting the opportunity to ask me for more. Once I arrived in Spain, he grabbed his opportunity: spiritual exercises, an eight day silent retreat. It sounded a little intimidating, but by the grace of God, I decided to go.

 

       I had been seriously considering a vocation for six months. Christ had been working in my soul. Now, alone with him in a silent retreat, I could not avoid the echo of his voice calling me. Only I wanted to be sure, and the whole thing was so uncertain.

 

       As the retreat progressed from day to day, I could hear him more clearly. I kept telling him:

       Show me. I need to see. I need an answer. If I really know that consecrated life is your will for me then Ill get consecrated, but Im not sure. 

      

       On the fifth day of the retreat I got the chance to go to confession. I confessed every sin I could possibly think of, but I still had a dread feeling that I should tell the priest about my difficulty in discerning my vocation. I said the whole thing from beginning to end and waited for an answer.

       Silence.

      

       Finally after some time had passed he said:

        After all that youve told me, you still dont know? 

       The words were like a lightning bolt. I knew. I really knew.

 

       I needed to pray, to think, to go for a walk. 

      

       I picked up my notebook of retreat notes, and as I flipped through the pages, my eyes fell on something Id written about the rich young man in the Gospel. He had said to Christ:

Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life? I read Christs response: Why do you call me good? Go sell what you have and come follow me.

(cf Mark 11:17-22)

 

       Christ answered a question with a question. Then like a sunrise, slow and clear, it dawned on me. All this time Id been asking Christ:

       How do I know? What should I do? What do you want?

         I wanted an answer, but I did not realize that Christ was asking me a question: 

       Magdalena, will you sell all that you have and come follow me? Will you help me save souls? Will you give your entire life for love of me as I gave my life for you?

      

       He was calling me by my name, and looking on me with the same love as he did the rich young man.

      

       Yes. I could only say yes.

       This sudden understanding was my sign. Christ gave me his peace. After six months of praying my Hail Marys every night for her help, she answered my prayer on that August 22, 1986, the Feast of the Coronation of Mary.

 

       At one moment I heard God calling my name and I saw my vocation before me as clear as the sun on a cloudless day. Ive never doubted it, even though the clouds have sometimes hidden the suns light. But a vocation is to follow that sun I once saw, even when I can no longer feel its warmth or see it shining. 

      

      My sixteen years of consecrated life have been full: full of tears, of joys, of difficulties and of triumphs. My life is full, because it is full of Gods love, and my heart is at peace because it knows what true happiness is. I have heard my real name.