By Anonymous
In a certain kingdom, in a certain valley, a small settlement atop a hill, Steubenvillage, was alive with people of all manner, one of whom is of particular interest to our tale: Francis Underhill.
Francis was a pious young man: an altar server and a choir boy, very prayerful and always seeking to do the Lord’s Will. As such, an issue of great frequency for him was discerning what that Will actually willed.
One could say, despite his earnest, that Francis was a man of great indecision. Indeed, his indecision was great.
Our tale begins one fateful Friday, just after 3:00 p.m. confessions. Francis had just confessed, and he emerged feeling zealous, ready to serve the Lord in whatever way he may be called.
Francis reflected on the sacrament, and he knew he must be called to that – to be a priest, ministering confession to weary souls needing to reconcile
What call could be greater than this: to bring Christ’s mercy to his people?
Then, on his way home, he saw her coming in the opposite direction. Mary was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and she was a missionary with MET Ministries (Multi-kingdom Evangelization Teams).
As they passed on the path, she gave him a smile, melting him faster than gelato on an Austrian summer day. Enamored and dazed, he kept walking until he was stopped by his face slamming into a tree.
At the encounter’s end, Francis knew his vocation: he must spend the rest of his days with her. What call could be greater than this: to grow towards heaven with Mary?
Francis then reached his home, prepared for the 4:45 p.m. Mass, and returned to the chapel.
Serving on the altar was one of Francis’ greatest delights. Nothing compared, he thought, to being this close to the consecration, aiding in the celebration beyond all celebrations, kneeling down before the cross at Calvary.
As the priest raised up the body of Christ, Francis stared in awe. He now knew his vocation – he must be a priest. What call could be greater than this: to act in persona Christi, bringing the Lord before his people.
After Mass, Francis saw a gaggle of giggling goblins playing pin the tail on the donkey. The donkey was, of course, opposed to this choice of pastime and ran from the children.
This merely invigorated the creatures, causing a small stampede of laughter to follow wherever the donkey went. Inevitably, one of the children fell and scraped her knee, unleashing a screeching torrent, the likes of which few could parallel.
But, despite the power of the child’s wails, a strong and solemn figure slowly approached, unaffected by the shrill sounds emanating from the tiny tot.
The figure stooped down to one knee and hoisted the child onto his leg. He hugged the child firmly but gently, speaking words of encouragement and solace.
With that, the siren was silenced, embracing her father one last time before running off to play some more.
Touched by the scene, Francis now knew where he was called. He must become a father, raising a beautiful family with Mary and being the strength that his children will need in times of distress.
What call could be greater than this: to protect and provide for one’s family?
That night, Francis was filled with a tumult of anxiety and discontent. How could he be faced with two such absolutely beautiful yet absolutely irreconcilable vocations?
Priest or husband? It cannot be both. “If only I lived further east,” he thought.
But live further east, he did not. “Well, I have to try something more extreme, otherwise God will never show me what I’m called to.”
He decided whichever opportunity presented itself first, he would act on.
The next day, he ran into Mary at the market, worked up the courage and asked if he could court her. “No,” she replied.
Utterly devastated, he now knew he must be called to the priesthood. He wrote a letter of application to the nearest seminary and sent it with the courier.
A day later, the reply read, “No.”
Confused and frightened, Francis turned to prayer. Desperate for an answer, he prayed that God would immediately show him what his vocation was with the first passage he read from the Bible.
He opened it, and the first word he read was “No.”
Unsatisfied with this answer, he turned the page. Psalm 46:10, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
Francis furrowed his brow. Be still? Alright. He decided to be still in his bed and fell fast asleep, thinking of how he would from now on be less hasty and act on God’s time.
The next day, he went out, saw a friar ministering to the poor, and knew his vocation.