Me and the Annunciation by Fra Angelico, Convent of San Marco, Florence, Italy

“I spent the better part of 13 years in the company of nuns, fierce nuns, crazy nuns, loving nuns, brilliant nuns.”

I am in the 15th century Convent of San Marco, my favorite destination in Florence. I have climbed the long staircase leading to the individual monastic cells, specifically to see this fresco, Fra Angelico's Annunciation. But this time, everything about my visit is wrapped in the reality that my brother, with whom I came here many times, my older brother, the monk, is gone, dying over a year ago.

A copy of this fresco, hung in our parents bedroom all their lives, in all their homes, family homes, empty nester homes, care facilities. It was a gift to them on the occasion of their wedding. I have always assumed that's what made it special to them, a symbol of their long lasting love, married 59 years when my mother passed away. Now, perhaps because it is growing in meaning for me, I suspect that it held a deeper meaning for them as well.

I spent the better part of 13 years in the company of nuns, fierce nuns, crazy nuns, loving nuns, brilliant nuns. One thing these nuns spoke often about was the reality that each one of us had a "calling". Now, when they spoke of a "calling", they weren't talking about being a doctor, or graphic designer or mom. No, "responding to your calling" was code for joining the ranks of the those who had taken the vows of religious life.

Once I grasped the fullness of their message, I immediately resolved that, should my number be dialed, I was not picking up. My line was busy with all kinds of other calls, none of which involved a life of celibacy, cutting your hair, wearing a headdress, long robes and carrying a gigantic rosary. Nope, if a call managed to get through, the words, "wrong number" were at the ready. I remember when my brother told me he was joining the Benedictine Monastery to become a monk and a priest. I looked at him and smiled and said, "So, you went and answered the call, didn't you?", "Yup" was all he said.

Of course, now I know that throughout my lifetime, I have been called many times, called to travel down many roads, to join in countless adventures and to enter into the promise of commitments. These journeys have been rewarding, challenging, fulfilling and astonishing. I am deeply thankful for the gift of being called to experience so much, and for the gift of being able to say yes.

Now I believe that the power of the story behind this particular fresco, for me, is the stark representation of Mary's demeanor in the face of a daunting, unexpected, unbelievable, unsought after call. She is stunned, holding herself close, perhaps trying to catch her breath, eyes far away, gazing at a threshold she can't believe she will soon decide to cross.

And so, I stand here, holding the memory of my mother and father and brother close to my heart. I think how much I miss them, and how much I love them, and how much they taught me about how to live, and how to die, and how to be brave enough answer the call of life, no matter what uncertainties might lie beyond the thresholds put in front of me. And, I am full of gratitude.