From “Walk with Me: A Journey through the Landscape of Trauma” by Ellen Corcella
Before I could make it to the car, I was seized again with an identical extraordinary sensation. I had no time for this – whatever “this” was. Kathleen, after hours at a birthday party, was worn out and desperate to go home. The first sensation could be dismissed as my imagination, the second sensation was undeniable. I wrestled with running to the car or giving in to the force. Then I remembered my bargain and knew I had to keep my promise. I grabbed Kathleen and we walked to the Catholic supply store.
As we entered the cramped space, Kathleen asked, “What are we doing here?” Even a ten-year-old could tell my behavior was irrational.
“Wait here!” I pointed to a spot inside the entrance.
There was one circular path through the store. On one hand, I had no idea what I was looking for. On the other hand, I knew with a deep certainty I would recognize what I had been called to witness. In a deliberate fashion, I followed the singular cramped path, eyeing hundreds of objects, chalices, rosaries, children’s books, Bibles, devotionals, crosses and gifts for First Communion and Confirmation. Nothing caught my attention.
I was about to abandon the mission when I saw “it” – an expensive red, leather-bound copy of the Rule of Saint Benedict, the guidebook governing monastic living for centuries. I had been reading about Saint Benedict. I stretched to the back of the display table for the thick volume, with razor-thin, gold-tinged pages. I randomly flipped open the book. I looked down: there was Psalm 27.
Of all the objects, of all the books, of all the prayers, of all the scriptures and the 150 different psalms, I opened a random book and landed on Psalm 27. My heart racing, I slammed the book, clutched Kathleen, and dashed from the store. Shaking and trembling the entire ride home. I knew to my core the truth of the moment.
God is real. God spoke to me. God was calling.
I had to stop my life and answer God’s call.