A pressing need to be hooked on phonics

Our diocesan newspaper arrived on Thursday, as it reliably does. On the upper right hand corner of the front page was the picture of a beaming young woman with a teaser line below her photo that read something like "How this OLMC parishioner became a postulant."

Aisling grabbed up the newspaper, her small face a horrified gape of gaping horror. "WHAT??!!" she shrieked. "That is TERRIBLE! HOW could the newspaper print a picture of that girl, just sitting there SMILING??!!"

I took the newspaper from her, frowning in befuddlement at Aisling's ire, looking at the photo and the teaser. "I think it's very nice," I said. "She's just beaming. She looks so happy."

"HAPPY?" Aisling spluttered. "What does she have to be happy about? I think she'd want to hide in shame! Her family must be so embarrassed!"

Eyes wide, I observed my fourteen year old daughter and said gently, "Honey, you just have to understand that God calls people to different vocations. To you, her decision might seem strange or maybe even weird, although you've known enough of them by now that I'm honestly a little confused. To this girl, a vocation seems like the only thing in the world to do with her life. She's....called to it. It brings her joy and fulfillment."

Aisling looked at me as if I'd suddenly declared an urge to wash my hair with buttered peas. "You must be joking," she said flatly, giving me a tight-lipped, slitty-eyed look. "After all you and Daddy have told me and Meelyn about how sex outside of marriage is a grave sin and how our bodies are the temples of the Holy Spirit and we need to honor Jesus and respect ourselves and now you're telling me that this girl is called to this like a.....like a......lifestyle choice??!!"

Light dawned.

"Aisling. This young woman is becoming a postulant. NOT A PROSTITUTE."