As humans, we are simultaneously single-minded and easily distracted. Each of us has a past littered with unfulfilled dreams, incomplete goals, and missed opportunities. Every day, we screw up, and it’s often because we’re focused on everything but the right thing. But if our past is untidy with little—or big—mistakes, our futures are loaded with chances to make it right.
There is, really, only one way to fulfill our life’s purpose, whatever that vocation may be—and that’s to do it with our whole hearts.
For me, vocation is a multifaceted thing. But, as I’ve grown up and matured into adulthood, I find that it comes down to one simple thing: I am proud to be a woman. Although I, like many other women of today, struggle at times with body image, I also feel honored to have the feminine genius gifted to me. It is a beautiful thing to be female; there is so much about womanhood that is precious and exclusive. I find that, despite the fact that I’m far from the most ladylike or traditionally effeminate of women, this inherent part of my identity is at the core of my vocations; it is what makes me called and qualified for the greater purposes that I see in life.
When I read Pope Saint John Paul II’s Letter to Women—originally distributed in the summer of 1995, when I was just a girl—my heart swells with pride. It’s the good kind of pride, though—the one that makes me so thankful for who I am, and so honored to be counted among the many beautiful and amazing women who grace my life and the world every single day.
I know it’s a bit late to be celebrating International Women’s Day, but I want each of those women to hear these words from a humble man, a pope and a saint, who dearly loved us all:
Thank you, women who are mothers! You have sheltered human beings within yourselves in a unique experience of joy and travail. This experience makes you become God’s own smile upon the newborn child, the one who guides your child’s first steps, who helps it to grow, and who is the anchor as the child makes its way along the journey of life.
Thank you, women who are wives! You irrevocably join your future to that of your husbands, in a relationship of mutual giving, at the service of love and life.
Thank you, women who are daughters and women who are sisters! Into the heart of the family, and then of all society, you bring the richness of your sensitivity, your intuitiveness, your generosity and fidelity.
Thank you, women who work! You are present and active in every area of life—social, economic, cultural, artistic, and political. In this way you make an indispensable contribution to the growth of a culture which unites reason and feeling, to a model of life ever open to the sense of “mystery,” to the establishment of economic and political structures ever more worthy of humanity.
Thank you, consecrated women! Following the example of the greatest of women, the Mother of Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Word, you open yourselves with obedience and fidelity to the gift of God’s love. You help the Church and all mankind to experience a “spousal” relationship to God, one which magnificently expresses the fellowship which God wishes to establish with his creatures.
Thank you, every woman, for the simple fact of being a woman! Through the insight which is so much a part of your womanhood you enrich the world’s understanding and help to make human relations more honest and authentic.
The Journey Here
I’d be lying if I said that discovering this appreciation for my gender was easy or quick. The daily cultural pressures imposed on every woman in today’s world are heavy, unjust, and sometimes just plain repulsive. We are made to feel like lesser people if we don’t look like Barbie. We are expected to give of our physical selves before our partners are expected to truly appreciate it. We are told, even by fellow women, that we should live under a cloud of shame, and even that sacrificing our children can enrich our lives. We are given prescriptions to disrupt our bodies’ natural and beautiful functions like children are given candy, to conform our bodies and behaviors to the needs of others—and in the process we sacrifice our own comfort, health, and fertility.
All of this is enough to spark in me the frequent and fervent wish that things could be so much different than they are. And we haven’t even touched on how physically taxing it is to be a woman who bleeds and cramps every month, tolerates the many effects of natural (or unnatural) hormone cycles, carries and births children, and, often, takes on the everyday care of her home and family even as she juggles a full-time job and all those cultural pressures.
I’m tired just thinking about all of it.
But, like many other challenges in life, the hardships I have faced in my efforts to be a good woman of God—to be true to who God made me to be, to be kind to myself, and to be everything my family needs from me—have been so sanctifying. And when I come out of them feeling more confident, I also come out more humbled. Because none of this can be done alone, and I need a lot of help along the way.
That brings me to the little something that is sprinkled all over my true calling in life: the reminder to stay humble. I know that I am called to be a daughter, a wife, and a mother. I know I am called to be a writer. I know I am called to be Catholic. But I can do none of that well without that most elusive virtue, humility.
Next week (because I’m trying to write once a week for Lent!), I’ll talk more about that side of things and how it touches on my every nerve—and my every joy.