A poem I penned about the mystery of calling and vocation
We may not with certainty know
That to which we are called.
There is a naïve arrogance
In declaring our vocations.
We serve in terms we can fathom
Without fathoming our divine range.
We may miss it by a mile
But still happen onto what God intended.
Seeking to know is less useful
Than living questions with a certainty
That grace ever goes before us
And leads us, unwittingly, home.