My story differs little from the typical life of many Catholic boys in the Midwest.  I grew up in the Church.  I attended the parish school.  I served Mass on the weekends.  My pastor, Fr. Jim Murphy, would often shake my hand and ask, “When are you going to be a priest, Tommy?”  I did not then have the heart to tell him that I planned on being anything but a priest.

            In the 6th grade, however, something changed.  At that time, one of my friends wanted me to join a “role-playing game” that involved occult-like activities.  This offer was a tempting opportunity for someone torn between being a “mama’s boy” and becoming a rebel.   Wanting to be popular, I chose to become a rebel by agreeing to join.  When I told my mother, she did not yell or even outright reject the idea.  Instead, she looked disappointed.  That look on her face bothered me enough for me to reconsider my choice.  Not long after, I called my friend and pulled out. 

Not a week or two later, by God’s providence, I heard a radio program about the possible dangers involved with the game my friend was involved in.  The program frightened me and I thanked God (and Ma) for small favors.  But then, unexpectedly, Fr. Murphy’s words echoed in my head: “When are you going to be a priest?”  So, I began to think more about the possibility of a priestly vocation.  I began serving at daily Mass.  I talked to priests about their lives.  I received great encouragement from the parishioners, teachers, and friends that I told.

Over the years, the thought took a deeper hold on my heart.  It seemed right.  In high school especially, the idea made more and more sense.  I found myself attracted by the beauty and truth that I found in the Church.  My spiritual life grew by attending several Steubenville conferences, by being involved with youth groups, and by reading about Pope John Paul II.  Many people, some of whom I had never before met, even said to me, “You’d make a good priest.”  In many ordinary and extraordinary ways like these, God confirmed my vocation.

            Through all of these moments, I discovered that the story of a man’s journey to the priesthood is really a love story.  It is the story of a man’s love for Jesus Christ and His Church.  It is the story of a man’s discovery of the purpose of his existence, the task that he alone is created to do for which no one else is created.  It is the story of a man’s search for and attainment of everlasting happiness.  I am blessed to say that it has been and, I pray, will forever be my story.  And for this ordinary, Midwestern cradle Catholic, that’s not too bad.