Lets have some wine and talk about the meaning of life! said my friend Suzanne, clicking her ticket through the meter as we took the Metro home from work one Friday afternoon.

      

       We were both young independent career women in Washington DC, and the meaning of life didnt mean much. The meaning of life was our boyfriends, the party wed gone to last weekend, the latest gossip about someone who got stoned off the job, the clothes wed seen in the latest Vanity Fair. But after shed left my apartment that night, and I got ready to go out with my boyfriend to a local club, I started to think seriously, maybe for the first time:

      

       What is the meaning of my life? This?

      

       I decided to worry about how I should fix my lipstick.

 

CRADLE CATHOLIC

      

       If Id looked back at my Catholic childhood in the South, I might have had an answer to that question. As it was, I was too busy trying to get rid of my Southern accent and being a hit in the Metropolis. Something other than a cocktail had to shake me up.

 

      I can never separate my childhood from my Catholic faith. Every night my nine brothers and sisters, my parents and I would assemble at my parents bedside to pray the rosary in front of my mothers collection of Madonnas. New Orleans, where I grew up, might have a party-town reputation, but it is steeped in Catholic culture. Our Good Friday Bike Pilgrimages were a good example. Dad invented them to give us something spiritual to do on the most solemn day of the year, and carrying on an old Catholic tradition of accompanying Christ in his agony by visiting nine churches. Once inside, wed follow Mom and Dad up to the front, and kneel down to pray beside them. I remember kneeling beside them when I was six or seven, and thinking: why is that man there on the cross? I knew it was Jesus. I knew he had died for me. I just didnt understand why he was there.

 

      By the time I entered high school, I thought Id found a little of the meaning of life. I had earned the tag Julie McCoy, thanks to the entertainment coordinator who starred on The Loveboat. Planning the weekend, planning proms and planning VIP parties for visiting diplomats was my forte. When it came time to depart from the high school scene, my plans raised their head high. Id breeze through college and then have a great big family with eight kids and a loving husband every girls dream, at least every Catholic girls dream. And I was sure it would come true.

      

      I took the first step. Viva Kappa Kappa Gamma life could have been my motto in my freshman and junior years at Louisiana State University. I loved the parties, the football games, and the fraternity boys. It was one night, really late as I was cleaning up after a party with a couple of my friends who were still more or less sober, that I realized it wasnt enough. Maybe I needed something more. A new university?

 

      I switched my major to Communications at Loyola University, with an internship at the New Orleans Tourist Commission and all of a sudden, I was in my graduation gown, with the mortarboard in hand, clutching my diploma. What was the next step? Those two years at Loyola had flown by in a busy social whirl. I gasped for breath at the end of it to think about what came next.

      Anne-Marie, you could be doing anything with your life. Anything, a friend assured me at a party.

      I didnt want just anything. I wanted my plans: success, marriage, and a big family.

      The success part came first. I landed a job in advertising and PR at a good hotel in New Orleans. I moved out of my house. I had everything I wanted. Almost. Marriage and the big family still seemed to be a little vague. My most likely future husband prospect was making plans for graduate school, which pushed my plans into an uncertain future. That white wedding gown Id seen at the boutique might have to wait a couple of years.

 

INTO THE FAST LANE

 

      But soon it seemed my life was taking a new direction. I started dating Christopher, the gorgeous guy who worked with me at the hotel, and then I decided to move to Washington DC. I had friends there, and he was attending law school nearby. Plus, I landed an incredible job with the NASDAQ Stock Market, doing event planning and marketing my specialty. I was on my way! Or so I thought.

 

      I drove into D.C. and immediately signaled into the fast lane. An impressive job, with travel opportunities, happy hours, clubbing and cocktail parties everything Id wanted. My boyfriend and I were a perfect match: he was going to be a famous lawyer, and I was going to be a famous PR expert. I had the right friends, the right boyfriend, the right job and the right clothes. I ought to have everything I wanted. But I didnt. Maybe New Orleans Society Life was a bit different from the East Coast, but Washington DC made me sick. I did most of my thinking at night, after the parties, trying to push aside the images Id had to face, and sometimes having the betraying thought:

      Anne-Marie. Is it really worth it? Is this what you really want? And then Id push the thought aside. Oh shut up. I have all the right things. Its my problem Im not satisfied with them yet.

 

      But was success worth everything I thought it was? And more importantly, was it the meaning of life I was looking for?

 

      Work was a moral minefield. My colleagues were getting fired: one for sexual harassment, another for embezzling money. Or else they spent their lives in the office trying to get ahead, while their families were left at home alone. Some never even thought of having a family because they were so wrapped up in climbing the corporate ladder. Would Christopher and I end up like that?

 

      I finally had to admit to myself that above and beyond my dreams to have a corner office, was my desire to raise a family, just as my parents had. I somehow sensed that being the greatest career woman and most elegant social butterfly was not going to get me all the way there.

 

      I just never thought about it long enough to do something about it.

      

RING, RING

 

       Hello, I said, as I picked up the phone.

       Is this Anne-Marie? a strange male voice asked.

       Yes, it is

 

       Mom. She already knew that I had a boyfriend, but that didnt deter her from giving out my phone number to the eligible [definition: Catholic. Young. Reasonably intelligent.] men she came across.

      

       Look, I tried to say kindly, I think I might be busy

 

      There was no escape. I was almost forced into meeting him. He turned out to be nice enough, though, and I didnt have to meet him alone. We had dinner with his sister, her family and another of my sisters. It was his sister who opened the door for me as we were leaving to tell me:

       By the way, theres a group of young people in the area who offer a way to get to know and to strengthen you in the faith. Heres the phone number if youre interested. Why dont you go?

       OK, I shrugged. It sounded all right.

      

       I sat down at the back of the room and opened my purse for my compact mirror.

       How long do we have to stay? hissed Suzanne.

       If its boring, were leaving, I said, folding up the mirror.

      

      We were surrounded by other young people chatting, laughing and waiting for the Legionary priest who was going to present a talk on Making Christ the Center of Your Lent, organized by a group of young people in Regnum Christi.

       Anne-Marie! How are you? asked Carolyn, the sister of the nice enough guy.

       Fine, I said.

       I have to tell you

      But she didnt get a chance to finish because the priest entered to begin his talk. Id expected to be bored. I wasnt. He was funny, and some of the things he said blew dust off my Catholic faith. It was even a little uncomfortable, because I wasnt sure I wanted to be reminded about them and I didnt hang around afterwards. Suzanne and I got in my car to go back. I turned on the engine to warm up the car on the chilly March night.

       Anne-Marie, you do the weirdest things sometimes, said Suzanne, pulling on her seatbelt. Didnt Christopher ask you out tonight?

Its not like he really asks me any more. He expects me to

go with him. Its like: Anne-Marie-Im-going-to-Jerrys-see-you-there kind of invitation.

Suzanne made a face.

      Typical.

      I shrugged, and backed out of the parking lot.

 

      The next day, although Suzanne and I laughed at work about the meeting, the half-sunk truths of childhood faith wouldnt re-submerge themselves. They floated up at the strangest times and I found myself wanting to know more, somehow. Plus, I was discovering that Christopher and I werent the most perfect couple

     

       What a coincidence. Another Regnum Christi activity was the first thing that crossed my path.

 

       I entered a conference room full of young professionals, only to find the same priest leading the talk. This time, I was by myself I had no excuses to leave early. When the talk was over, I stayed around at the back, talking to the others there.

      So, said a young woman my age passing me a cup of coffee and offering me a tray of cookies. Where are you working?

 

      We started talking. They were like me: successful, hardworking but there was something different. They wanted to do something more with their time than work and socialize. Theyd say how they were trying to change their workplace, what they were doing to help the Church it seemed almost unbelievable. Id never thought that the faith that Id grown up with was lived anywhere outside my family. I decided to go to a Regnum Christi retreat that Leah, the one Id first started talking to, mentioned.

 

      Hi, Anne-Marie? said another unfamiliar voice over the phone, a couple of days later. This time it was a woman.

      Hello? I said, twisting my pen cap off so that I could write down the things I needed to buy to survive that week. Coffee was first on the list. I was out. And if this was another door-to-door saleswoman

      This is Leah. Do you remember me?

It took a minute

      Oh, oh, hi! How are you?

      Great! I just wanted to let you know about the retreat. Its going to be at a retreat center about an hour from here. Oh, and did I tell you that its in silence?

      For two days?

      Its great, Anne-Marie. Youre going to love it. Just you and God.

      Oh. Yeah - great.

 

WHAT I REALLY MEAN IS

     

       I knelt down in the chapel, during one of the breaks that we had, and put my head in my hands. I felt like everything was pouring on me at once, all the things Id never realized, all the time Id spent just for myself:

      

       Lord, Im so sorry ...

      The crucifix and the tabernacle looked on me in serene silence as I knelt there, crying. In front of the crucifix, looking at the statue of a dead man covered with wounds, bleeding from a crown of thorns and in front of the tabernacle where the real Christ was waiting, silently, constantly, for me it was impossible for me not to face up to my reality.

 

       You loved me so much and I had loved myself so much. The meaning of my life wasnt me. In that still chapel I saw that there was more to life than cocktail parties, Revlon lipstick and sitting in coffee shops with my friends. Id heard it from my parents, but finally, I understood. I thought over the retreat: directed meditations on all Christ had done for me, the prayer and silence, the reception of the sacraments, the whole environment of the retreat and I realized that I needed some advice. There was this thing being offered called spiritual direction. I wasnt sure what it was, but it sounded like something I needed.

      

       The priest and I talked for a while, maybe half an hour. He asked me about my situation, my relationship with God,  and I found myself telling him all of what had been happening in my life, what I was looking for He didnt get shocked by what I told him. He didnt give me a hell-and-brimstone sermon. He listened, patiently, and gave me advice that seemed to fit perfectly. And then, at the end, he said:

       Anne-Marie, have you ever thought of becoming a member of Regnum Christi?

      

      That was the last thing I thought hed ask me to do. I thought of the retreat Id had; the people I knew in Regnum Christi, the bits and pieces that Id been able to read of the writing of their founder, Fr. Marcial Maciel, LC.

       Id never heard of it before, Father; but what it teaches is what my parents have always tried to raise me with. Id just never seen it anyplace else but here.

      I think you should consider becoming a member. Its going to help you after this retreat.

 

      Should I take the step of commitment to Christ and Regnum Christi? It would mean drastic changes to my party lifestyle; it would require putting Christ first, and not myself; it would mean accountability for my life before God. Was I ready for it? I knew, though, that this was something God wanted, and if I really wanted peace and happiness in my life, I should follow him. 

 

      I decided to incorporate into Regnum Christi, to take my faith seriously and to begin building a deeper relationship with God. He had put Regnum Christi in my path to help me do just that.

 

THE NEW IMPROVED ANNE-MARIE

 

      It was Friday night. I was getting ready in front of the mirror in my bedroom as usual, but this time it wasnt for a happy hour with Christopher.

 

      I was working in Regnum Christi with all my planning might. Parties with guest speakers talking about Catholic issues had become a bit more of a priority than happy hours. And then, Christopher and I had broken up. We just didnt have the same interests anymore. I didnt want a life full of garages of Jaguars and weekends to the Caribbean that wasnt going to fulfill me. That wasnt the meaning of my life. I wanted a real family, where I could bring the faith to my children. I was putting all my talents into Regnum Christis events, but I didnt stop there.  I wanted to know my Faith and to know Christ better.

 

      I began saying morning prayers, attending Mass more frequently, going to Gospel reflections and Eucharistic hours, and having regular spiritual direction, all of which Regnum Christi offered. Then, Saturday mornings became tennis lessons. Sunday mornings were catechism classes for first graders. Im not sure who learned more, the first graders or myself. Every Sunday morning, I would find myself in front of a wiggling group of six and seven year-olds, eyes wide and eager, with hands ready to wave in the air and tell me:

       Miss Anne-Marie but what if

       If God is like that what if

As I cleaned up the classroom, sometimes, I would think about how I used to spend Sunday mornings. Or how, if Christopher had seen me, hed think I was crazy.

 

      I didnt regret it. Each one of the children I taught was so absolutely different, so individual that I realized that God loves each of us. And he doesnt love us and leave us he has a plan for each of us. Thats why he made us so differently. Maybe he was planning that Robert, the slightly chubby boy in the front row would be an engineer; and Molly, with her long blonde hair and her preference for drawing in the margins might become a famous illustrator. Alex was going to be a doctor, maybe. And I could see the mothers and the fathers, and the Catholic families they might have in the future I thought about how special each one of them was. I thought about how God loved each one of them; and I started to think of the plan that perhaps he would have for me. Because when I looked at them and thought of whom they might be, I also saw the other range of possibilities: drug users, another statistic on the suicide role, another teen pregnancy, unhappy divorcees

 

      I needed to do more.

 

      I began to feel restless in my job at NASDAQ. It didnt fit anymore. It wasnt that it was bad, but I wasnt fulfilled doing it. I knew that I needed to do something besides it. 

       God, what do you want from me? I found myself asking. 

      These questions bothered me until one day, in spiritual direction, I found an unexpected and surprising answer.

       Are you fighting against a vocation?

       No, I am NOT, I declared, defensively, Im going to get married and have children.

      How many times had I told my spiritual director that? Of course I didnt have a vocation to get consecrated. I wanted to get married.

       Okay, I was just asking, he replied.

 

      Driving home afterwards, I began to think more about it. Why did I fly off the handle at such an innocent question? Of course I was going to have a great husband and lots of kids. But, what if I do have a vocation?

      

      I unlocked the door of my apartment and looked around. It seemed like there was a question hanging all the way across the room. Anne-Marie, I thought, you really have to face this one. Okay. Okay. I took a breath. If if - I had a vocation, God would have to tell me. Standing in my apartment, I said out loud:

       Okay Lord. Im going to say my rosary every day, and youd better tell me

      

       As good as my intentions were, I didnt hold up my end of the bargain for very long. Holy Week arrived and I was still in the dark.

       

       God, please, please, please tell me what you want me to do. I cant keep living without knowing.

      The big wooden crucifix hung above the altar and as I knelt before the image of Christ that Holy Thursday, I begged him for an answer. God has his timing; he knows the moment we are ready to hear what he has to tell us, and for me, this was not it. I didnt get any of the specifics, I left the church with a peaceful sense that he had something BIG planned for my life that it would be wonderful and the he would show it to me soon.

 

A FORETASTE OF THE REST OF MY LIFE

 

       Anne-Marie! squealed Claire, standing in front of my desk at work and looking down at the assortment of Bible, Styrofoam coffee cups, papers, compact, comb and computer strewn around me. But you cant leave this weekend. Did you hear about the party at the deLuses?

      I shrugged.

      I was going to St. Louis for a Regnum Christi womens convention.

 

      Getting off the plane, I found my way to the hotel where we were staying.

       Hi, Anne-Marie, said a smiling woman in a skirt with a wedding ring on her finger and a face that almost shone. She radiated joy. My name is Elisabeth. Im helping with the convention this weekend, so if you need anything, just let me know.

 

      As she helped me get my bags to my room, she told me that she was a consecrated woman in Regnum Christi. Shed given her life to serve Christ and the Church, she said. I think that the consecrated women were the ones I remember most from that weekend. They were so different, not weird different, real and different at the same time. During a conference given by one of the consecrated, the wheels started turning as she quoted the Gospel passage about the talents:

 

       I tell you to everyone who has, more will be given, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away (Luke 19:26).

 

      God entrusts everyone with gifts and talents, I knew that, but standing at the podium was a woman who had placed every single one of those talents at Gods service. Perhaps I should give more to Christ, as they had. The perhaps became more and more pronounced as the convention went on.

 

      I casually cornered one of the consecrated women and tried to look nonchalant.

       So, I said. And I began spilling out the most vocationally oriented questions: What is your prayer life like? What apostolates do you do? How do you know if God is calling you?

      She answered my questions as though they were the most normal things anyone might want to know. As she got up, I breathed a sigh of relief. She hadnt guessed, so I thought. Im sure she must have been laughing to herself inside. I was practically wearing a V for vocation on my forehead!

 

      It stayed in my mind. Belonging totally to Christ in heart, mind and body, spending myself to bring Christ to others, to defend the Church, to rebuild the family and society they were my feelings and my desires. Was God asking me? I was supposed to work on planning an event on the plane ride home, but I could hardly concentrate on the numbers and the invitations. Perhaps it wasnt a coincidence. I knew it wasnt.

 

      I decided to spend the summer discerning in their candidacy program.

 

TOTAL SURRENDER

      

       What I experienced during the candidacy is hard to put into words. I was there to figure out what Christ wanted of me, that much I had clear. I had classes together with the other candidates, we enjoyed each others friendship, but above all, day after day, I spent long periods of time speaking with Christ in the Blessed Sacrament. This is where I discovered my vocation. I met Christ, a living Christ, a person. And that Christ is God, my Creator, the one who had my life planned out from the beginning of time, the one who more than anyone else on this planet loved me and wanted me to be happy. I couldnt help but falling in love with him.

      

       Anne-Marie, I realized one day, this is the meaning of your life. Its God. And he wants your whole life.

 

BREAKING THE NEWS

      

       How did my family react? Well, needless to say, they were a little shocked. Of all my siblings, I was the last one that anyone had imagined to have a vocation. But, they saw how happy I was and knew that Gods hand had been directing my life. I was very sure about my decision and this assured them as well.

      

      My friends and colleagues thought I was crazy.

       Rather than doing something rash, why dont you take a six-month sabbatical to go and figure out your life? my boss asked me.

       Thats what Ive been doing, but in six weeks! I responded assuredly.

      

       Deep inside, I felt an immense peace, difficult to put into words. I told my friends that it seemed like I had been sucked into a magnetic field, but with absolutely no desire to escape. It was bittersweet; I was both happy and sad, but I knew that I was about to do something very exciting.

      

A WHOLE NEW WORLD

     

       It was difficult to stop making my own plans and no longer having my credit cards, car, closet full of clothes, snow skis and the freedom of doing, going and having what I wanted whenever I wanted.

      

       But then what were snow skis compared to eternal bliss?

      

      All of my struggles were overcome by the deep fulfillment I had found in Christ. Every day is new, different, something more, because every day has the one meaning that I was made for Christ.

 

       Some days, I find myself stepping into the chapel, to make a quick visit and saying:

      Hello, again. Did you know that youre the meaning of my life?