By Sr. Paula Watts, M.S.
Marian Sisters of the Diocese of Lincoln
As I reflect back on how I was called to religious life, I can see how much my parents’ deep faith had a great deal of influence over me. I witnessed daily how their faith was part of their lives. Growing up in an Irish settlement also helped me notice God in the simple things around me.
Life on the farm gave me many moments to reflect, even before I understood what reflection really was. When I walked through the timber near the North River, or helped milk the cows early in the morning, I often felt a deep sense of peace. Those times were my first experiences of prayer. The quiet of nature, the sound of the animals, and the familiar routines all helped me feel close to God.
I went to a public grade school, and I’ll admit I wasn’t the best student. I preferred being outdoors or helping with chores, rather than sitting at a desk. Still, my parents believed strongly in Catholic education, and they sacrificed so my siblings and I could attend a Catholic high school. They drove back and forth each weekend so we could board in town during the week. Their faith and their willingness to work hard for our spiritual well-being made a big impact on me.
Religious life was familiar to our family. I had two cousins who were priests and two cousins who were religious. Their lives made a quiet impression on me, even though I didn’t think much about it at the time. One of my cousins celebrated his first Mass at my home parish, St. Patrick’s Irish Settlement, a few years before I entered the convent. For our little parish of only 45 families, this was a very special event and quite an honor.
My call to religious life began near the end of my junior year of high school. It wasn’t sudden or dramatic. It came up at odd times—while I was out with friends, on a date, or just going about normal life. I tried to block it out because it didn’t seem to fit the plans I had for myself. I even told the Lord, “There is no way I can live a secluded life. I would go crazy!” But the feeling kept coming back. After a while, trying to ignore it became harder than facing it.
Eventually, I reached a point where I could no longer pretend it wasn’t there. Avoiding the call took away my peace. So I told God I would give it a try and see what happened. As soon as I did that, I felt a calm I hadn’t felt in a long time.
I first heard about the Marian Sisters through Sister Mary Wilma Rita, who was my homeroom teacher in high school. She and some of the other sisters from her community, the Sisters of the Blessed Virgin Mary, hoped I might join them. But I didn’t feel comfortable joining such a large community with thousands of sisters. It felt overwhelming to me. Sister Mary Wilma Rita then told me about a new community in Lincoln—the Marian Sisters of the Diocese of Lincoln. She described them in a way that made me curious. The idea of a smaller, closer knit community sounded better to me. After visiting with my pastor and spending more time in prayer, I felt drawn to take the next step. Not long after, I entered.
Now, when I look back, I see how patient God was with me. I spent so much time trying to convince myself that He couldn’t possibly be calling me. Yet He never gave up. He kept nudging me gently, never forcing, always inviting. And once I finally listened, He led me to a place where I could find Him in the simple, everyday ways I always had.
In religious life, I still experience God most clearly in simple moments—in prayer, in community life, in the quiet work of each day, and even in silence. He continues to show me that He is with me, just as He was when I walked along the river or helped with chores as a child. He is present, steady, and faithful. And no matter where I am or what I’m doing, I am never alone.
