No Expiration Date

Have you ever opened your refrigerator and found something that you didn't expect to find there? I'm not talking about the surprise leftovers that save you from having to cook dinner. I'm talking about the old bunch of Romaine lettuce that you forgot was in the crisper or worse, that block of half eaten cheddar that somehow got pushed to the back of the fridge several months ago.

Whether it's a moldy block of cheese or a bag of slimy produce, I think it's fair to say that no one likes to be surprised with expired food. It smells. It takes up space. And it's old. We like what's new. There's something satisfying about pulling back the foil covering on a fresh container of yogurt or pulling the ring off of a new carton of milk. It's like a brand new box of crayons or driving a new car or the first time or a new baby!

Except...expiration dates don't apply to people. The rules that apply to food that has passed its date of tasting good don't apply to us. Ever. As long as we have breath in our lungs and desire in our hearts, it's not too late for us to do anything. Two cases in point:

Let me let you in on a secret: When I was a kid, I never learned how to swim. I liked dangling my feet into pools, and I enjoyed splashing at beaches, but when it came to diving into the deep end, I could never do it. Soon enough it was just a well known fact that I didn't swim, and people were ok with that. I was even okay with never having acquired this common and very useful skill. It was just a few weeks ago when I decided to try getting into deeper water. As I got into the water (with proper flotation protection, of course), I realized I couldn't see my feet or the bottom of the lake. But still, I felt unbelievably comfortable and safe. "Could this be the year that I finally learn how to swim?" As I got out of the water, I was greeted with encouraging words: "We're so proud of you! That was amazing! You're doing it!" I remembered it's never too late to do something.

This experience reminds me remarkably of this past week's Gospel reading where the workers who labored all day in the hot sun were paid the same as those who joined them later. I have definitely had seasons in my life where I was that early to rise worker who grumbled indignantly at the landowner for not paying me more than the stragglers who only worked for one hour. But given my current state in life, I relate more to the latter group of workers.

You see, most men and women who discern a vocation to the consecrated life do so in their 20s or early 30s. Me? I came later in the game. After a few weeks of beating myself up for not starting this process earlier, I have come to embrace my situation with gratitude. I'm so grateful that the Lord did not put an expiration date on me. After all, His timing is perfect. My experiences are a part of the story he has been writing for me, and no one is more creative than He is.

The experiences and relationships I have accumulated up to this point in my life have made me better equipped to live and discern this vocation now. The conditions would not have been ideal if I had started earlier. I wasn't ready. And I'm in good company. I think especially of St. Augustine who also discovered God's plan later in life. I don't know what the Church would be like without this doctor of the Church. I don't want to imagine it. He is a sign of what God's mercy can do with a soul that has spent years choosing a path of destruction and he is an encouragement to me. No one says it's not fair that he gets to reap the benefits of following the Lord, even if it did come later. So why should I imagine that people are saying that about me? They're not. Rather, I find myself surrounded by St. Monica and St. Ambrose types who are just cheering me along the way. And the taste of that reassurance is sweet.