I can't imagine what daggers I must have shot him. My thought process was "Oh, hell NO. Not MY son. My son will be a fast food worker, mechanic, doctor, railroad engineer, bricklayer, tattoo parlor worker, etc, anything BUT a priest." We stood in silence and even though he didn't say anything else, I do know he prayed. Drat him and God bless him mightily.
These days I do bring up the idea of vocations and the priesthood with monkeyboy, not that I'm pushing him to be a priest, but I want him to do what God wants for him so I bring up all the possibilities. That's been my thought process, until today.
He had a recital yesterday. As he was playing his viola, I asked Papa 'maybe we should get him back into piano lessons?'. Although, he has very beautiful and delicate hands, my concern is that he's not likely to have a romantic anything in his life. I feel it's my responsibility to give him options of hobbies and things to do to occupy his time and for stress relief. It's not that I can't see him with a girlfriend. It's that I see it not lasting. He's clueless. The chick will get frustrated with his clueless-ness. She won't be able to change or sway him and subtlety or nagging won't work because he can't change who he is. It'll be too much work; he'll get overwhelmed and check out or she will. I know my boy. I have friends that affirm their vocation every day. Is it possible monkeyboy affirms his vocation already at this early age?
He tipped the balance this morning and sealed his fate. I ask him to bring down his clothes for washing, which includes clean clothes, lego pieces (apparently darth vader's helmet needs washing), kite parts, shoes, clothes still on hangers, chocolate wrappers and anything else he happens to toss in the basket. This isn't the problem. He goes on to sort of sort the clothes, load the washer, empty the drier and bring up the dry clothes for folding. He starts the drier 20 times claiming clothes are still wet. Yes he's lazy and doesn't want to do the work but it's still not the problem. This morning I traipse through the piles of sorted clothes to unload the drier and bring up clothes and swap clothes from washer to dryer when I discover the lone towel in the washer.
One towel. He washed one towel in the washer. There are piles of clothes and he washed one towel. That did it. He has evoked the wrath of Mama! Immediately I thought, "That's it. I am off the fence. I am praying fervently for a vocation to the priesthood for that boy." No amount of my threatening, rewarding, cajoling, promising beatings will change his laziness. No wife will put up with him and no child will get him to be self-less. He needs the church. He needs people to visit in hospitals, on deathbeds, in prison and administer the sacraments. He needs to be awoken at 2 in the morning to provide shelter for the homeless, or console a widow. He needs to be a spiritual father to a multitude of people. He needs to administer the sacraments because there isn't anyone who needs them more than he does. He needs Jesus Christ. This is a job for Jesus, plus that way he'll have someone to do his laundry for him.
In my vocation as mother I plan on giving St. Monica a run for her prayers. My pleas for his vocation are as desperate as hers were for her sons' conversion. Monkeyboy won't think of anyone else's needs until his love for Jesus compels him to do so. I plan on giving Jesus some fairly compelling arguments and making myself a total nuisance on the subject of Monkey Orders.
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