I had a vocation to the priesthood since grade school at St. Precopius elementary. There we were required to wear dress shoes, dress pants, a white shirt and a tie. The tie was a different color for each grade. I should mention my grades were pretty low and I never could bring them high enough to allow me to try out for altar boy. The sisters found me obedient and quick minded. My mom required I obey them as I did her, so I was their gopher. Bringing their books back to the public library or dropping off messages to someone in our Parish. On graduation day for eighth grade, we danced with our girl classmates and celebrated our leaving grade school and moving up to high school. We were getting older.
High school at De Sayles all boys private school was boring. I hated it from the first moment I was there. I had enjoyed seeing the girls in their plaid uniforms in grade school and I missed that. I could not stop thinking about their voices or the occasional pencil drop routine. The principal wouldn't allow dances at the school, nor would he allow our Sister schools to advertise their dances. During this time there was a shortage of priests and I suppose they were trying to forcibly guide us to a vocation.
My heart still yearned for a vocation. A small parish where I could make a difference in the lives of my flock. The opportunity to officiate at weddings and baptisms. I often dreamed of wearing the formal priestly robes, the expensive silks and vivid colors. The beautiful loving looks the mother gives her baby at baptism. So when Father Rick called me into his office for counseling (for what I didn't know yet) I was planning to ask him about it. About becoming a priest. I was seventeen and the world was still a strange and wonderful place. Father Rick told me to sit down. "Pete, how have you been? It's getting near graduation time and you are the only student who hasn't come into my office to ask about college."
I took a deep breath and breathed a sigh of relief. I thought they had caught me masturbating in the john or something, but I had nothing to worry about. In fact the question fit into my plans. "I'm thinking about going to Seminary, maybe becoming a priest."
"That's a fulfilling vocation Pete. I can tell you from my own experience that there is no calling in the world that will give you the rewards and sense of fulfillment."
That was then, this is now. On graduation at St. Joseph's Roman Catholic Seminary. I was given my first Assignment at St. Mary's of Perpetual Help. It is a large Parish and has a grade school and high school. The church is white marble with gold ornamentation and beautiful paintings and statues. It was the first place I went to when I arrived, even before checking in with the Monsignor. I was awed. The scent of incense, the quiet rays of the setting sun and the glimmer of candles set a mood that I can only barely describe here. I felt in touch with God there while I stood inside the quiet church.
Even though this is a huge Parish, there was only Monsignor Boyle and me. It didn't take me long to begin to learn the sisters names and some of the students. I had met so many of the parents that I couldn't remember one name from the next.
I sat at my desk in the high school chaplain's office, of St. Mary's. Sister Elizabeth came quietly inside and locked the door behind her. Her hair was short, brown, a little curly and showed her ears. She wore a plain dress suit with white blouse. Pinned on her left lapel was a gold cross. She wore the traditional black work shoe.
"Father Pete, would it be possible for you to hear my Confession?"
"Yes sister. Don't you usually see Father Boyle?"
"Not for this Father, I am so embarrassed."
I stood up and moved around the desk. There is a small leather couch by the wall and I led her there. Then I helped her sit down and I sat down next to her. I know it seems strange but in the quiet warmth of my office, all I could think about was her scent. Not perfume. Nor the deep musky smell that some women have. I didn't know. I was a virgin. Yet, when I sat down next to her, our legs touched each other. We sat there as she began to confess. I was in my twenties and she in her forties but her body felt young and warm next to mine. My senses felt so sharp. My breathing deepened, as did hers. She clasped her hands together in prayer as she related her problem to me. I wasn't prepared to hear, what she related to me.
"Father forgive me for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last and most truthful confession."
"Do you mean you have lied and made a bad confession sister?"
"Yes, Father." Tears began to well up in those beautiful hazel eyes of hers. Her lips trembled as the words began to tumble out.
"I don't know what has come over me Father. I think I will have to leave here. I am about to ask the cardinal to release me from my vows."
"Go on sister. Tell me about it in your own time. I'm listening."
A knock on the door disturbed us and I stood up and moved quickly to it. I felt irritable to leave Sister Elizabeth's side. The feeling of soft warmth of her thigh now was a cooling memory. I wanted to get back to her. I thought to hear her confession.
"Father Pete, I am Megan. I don't know if you remember me, but I was wondering if we could talk?"
"Yes. Of course Megan. At the moment I am hearing confessions and need privacy. Would you come back in an hour?"
