Ahhhhhh... But six months left before college, and nothing has weighed more on my mind than what it is I may be called to as a vocation. Priest? Teacher? Married? Single? Who knows? I am here to let you know that I now do, and it is quite interesting how this revelation was unveiled...

Before we began preparations for this past Antioch retreat (a locally owned and operated slammin' youth retreat for highschool/college-age students) I had an unusual dream. I was at St. Pius rectory, a building I'd never entered at the time, yet I knew that's where I was. I sat at the dining room table with Fr. Dan, a local priest. On the table was a puzzle, millions of pieces all over! Fr. Dan and I took seat at the table, putting the puzzle together merrily (and quite quickly, I might add, for the number of pieces). But alas, when we had finished, there was one piece missing; the puzzle was all but complete. This piece, belonging in the lower left corner, was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, after much searching, I found the piece at the leg of the table, and I put it in place, much to the delight of myself and Fr. Dan, for the picture was marred without it. I looked at the picture before this piece was found, and its image was undecernable to me; I could not make out the images on this puzzle. But after this puzzle was put together, I came to see what these pieces together made up, a mass host of people, whos faces I could not see before. I saw my parents and my brothers, my grandmothers and grandfathers (whom I've never met), my friends, and other people from school. More remained, however; There were faces in the picture that I, in reality, had never seen. But in my dream, I knew these faces; they were all familiar to me, all people I had known as long as I could remember. Yet one individual remained hidden to me; there was one face that I could not see.

This dream seemed odd to me and was promptly pushed to the deepest depths of my memory a week after it had been dreampt.

Soon thereafter, classes began at my highschool and retreat preparation started. I was enrolled in Fr. Dan's theology class for this semester, and I was insanely pumped to start digging into some great Catholic literature. It seemed as though from the very start that the class was focused on knowing one's self. I fool-heartedly thought that I knew myself as well as I ever could. Deep inside, however, I knew this was the farthest thing from truth, and I was well aware I had much to learn.

As time always has never missed a beat, so my life moved forwards. The semester began to reach its end. Another amazing Antioch retreat was under my belt, and I was again a different person for having attended.

In Fr. Dan's class, we began reading Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis. ("It's like candy!") How much this reading would change me, I did not know, though looking back, I do not complain. I won't bore you with the details (for fear that I have already accomplished that), but this book inspired a change in my thinking.

The main character of this book, Orual, comes to the revelation that we cannot see God "till we have faces." As odd as it may sound, and as many meanings as that may have, I took that tidbit to heart.

At work, I began to look at customers as souls with faces, searching for the same thing as myself, and not as annoying, demanding spend-thrifts who at times seemed to delight in making my life a veritable hell. I began to see their faces, who they truly are (for it is said "the face is the measure of the soul"). Little did I know that all the while, I learned more of myself than I did of them.

And it happens that, on Saturday, January 8th, 2005, somewhere between 8:30 p.m. and 9:30 p.m. (or perhaps that entire time, who knows?), everything fell into place.

I sat in the confessional during Adoration listening to advice that would shed new light on an old campaign. It should come as no surprise to those of you who know me well that I suffer from being excessively sarcastic (to the point that I'm sure I've offended people). This was, of course, not amongst the least of my thoughts as I confessed, and it came out in conjunction with my pride, sometimes frustrated demeanor, and impatience.

Fr. Brad, a Franciscan priest, slipped a key into the lock on my heart, for it was in that confessional that I learned an amazing lesson about life. I learned that my search to know other people in a deeper manner than "just other people" had indeed brought me to know myself. It was in this instant that a thought as random as anything ever has been entered my head: You're that person whom you couldn't see in the puzzle! As this thought entered my head, my jaw must've hit the ground. I'm unclear as to what made it pop into my head, as I remember very little about what happened in the confessional. I know, however, that this seemingly random dream which I thought to have no importance came back in full-force to prove me wrong. Just as spontaneously as it came the first time, so it came the second time. At once I recalled the puzzle with perfect clarity, this time not a single face indestinguishable, and that missing face had been mine all along.

Thoughts from Fr. Dan's religion class poured back into my head. I knew I had not found who I am entirely, but I had found my face. At that moment, as easily as all this came to be so it easily concluded, I realized that I am to be a priest.