Calling In & Through Service

In the fourth of our five week series on discernment, Kateri Dillon, former PULSE volunteer of both MP1 and MP2, shares with Spectacle of Saints her thoughts on discernment as a calling. Kateri is now on the staff of the Brunner Literacy Center where she served for two years as a PULSE volunteer.

One of our students at the Brunner Literacy Center (BLC) leisurely lifted himself off of the floor, where he had been studying. It was almost lunchtime. Devon, we’ll call him, always preferred studying horizontally because of a health condition which made it uncomfortable for him to sit for long periods. As he waited for others to join the lunch line, he looked at me quizzically and said, “I bet... you don’t have any felonies.” I nodded, confirming the accuracy of his judgement. “You’ve never stolen.... Not even a piece of candy from a store.” He paused, absorbed in an apparent moment of wonder.

“Well, yes, but -” I began, trying to come up with some sort of nobody’s perfect spiel. “But!” he continued, “You grew up in a good neighborhood, didn’t you… where everyone was like that and you could learn to be that way. My neighborhood was rough. You have to understand that my life was very different.”

This was true. Devon and I both grew up in Dayton around the same time, and yet, we could share amazement at the differences in each other’s childhood worlds. It isn’t every day that a student looks me in the eye and names our differences, but it is every day that my work calls me to step outside of what I’ve known and examine hard truths about myself, others, and society.

Sr. Mary Ann with a client at BLC

Back in college, I had dreamed of doing a year or two of service in another country. After several applications, hours of introspection, and a phone call with my mother, I found myself discerning my call to service… by going back home to Dayton. I would return to the city which had provided me such a comfortable upbringing, but I would go to areas of Dayton in which I had never previously stepped foot. I would spend two years living in two different Dayton neighborhoods, volunteering at the BLC to help coordinate a tutoring program for low-level felons. Next, I would be able to continue as a staff member doing the work I had fallen in love with while volunteering - truly, a precious gift from God. I would meet Devon and many others who would transform my sense of self and challenge me to grow.

Devon asked me to understand that his upbringing was different from mine. The truth is that I will never fully understand his experience, and I will never have perfect empathy. I find it important to carry this awareness into each day of service. I can strive to be a person of compassion, but I will still make mistakes. As a person of privilege, I must be consistently attentive to my own implicit biases and areas of ignorance. Compassion is a process, not a destination, so it is necessary that I let my students be my teachers. They are all bearers of their own Gospel truths. 

On this imperfect journey towards compassion, my work makes the most sense when I view it within the context of vocation. Given that I am not God, I can never know with certainty whether I have been called to influence a person or situation. I find this freeing. By recognizing that I am the imperfect partner in my relationship with God, I get to offer all my flawed efforts to the omnipotent Partner and simply see what happens. In my daily discernments, it is not up to me to determine whether a person I meet will be inspired by education and recover from addiction. Instead, it is up to me to be present to each daily interaction with clients, remaining open to simple moments of grace and trusting God to provide with Her unfailing daily bread wherever I am lacking.

This spirit of commitment to the present moment within the context of a larger, ambitious mission is well captured by Blessed Mother Adele in one of her letters:

Let us get down to the work with courage and not let ourselves be frightened by the grandeur of the enterprise. Let us concentrate on what we are doing at the present moment, but let us do it well.

Any work of service or justice, in the face of so much injustice, can easily seem like an overwhelmingly grand enterprise. This quote reminds me not to be discouraged and to focus on one step at a time.

In his recent blog, Bro. Tom Wendorf described a sense of “joy-happy” which is key to Christian life and discernment. I can’t think of a better way to express my underlying feeling in the small moments when I sense God’s grace in my work. It is difficult to deny God’s love when an elderly student states, “I can’t wait to go home and surprise my family with how well I can read.” The Spirit’s presence is almost palpable when a former student stops by to tell us about his good grades in Sinclair’s chemical dependency counseling program, after earning his GED with us. I owe praise to God when I get the chance to look a student in the eye and tell her she is smart, talented and good. I find it vital to reflect on these encounters to avoid burnout when we hear bad news about clients or when the workload becomes especially stressful.

Brunner Literacy Center

Last weekend, I ran into a former volunteer tutor at mass. When we talked afterwards, I was able to speak honestly about the challenges awaiting me as I step into a new leadership position at the BLC. At one point in our conversation, I paused, trying to explain why I was not totally apprehensive about the coming transition. I considered the glimpses of grace which had carried me through many difficulties over the past two plus years, the call to compassion through the process, and the consistent presence of “joy-happiness.” “This work does feel like a calling,” I told him. “Oh,” he said, his expression brightening genuinely, “Well, that’s all that matters. If it’s a calling, then you’ll have the courage to do anything.” I left this conversation with a feeling of hope that can best be described in the words of Dag Hammarskjold, “For all that has been, ‘thanks.’ For all that will be, ‘yes.’”

Peace and courage,
Kateri