When life as a priest gets too stressful and crazy, when it seems like too many people are frowning at me, making angry comments in the background, or sending unhappiness in my direction, when too many young kids die on the tables at the hospitals from sheer unbounded stupidity, and when I stumble home at 8 at night knowing I have to get back out there by 8 the next morning...
I dream of becoming a librarian. I would specialize in acquisitions. I'd do my duty at the intake desk... *beep*, *beep*, *beep*, "Excuse me, sir, you have a fine. 25 cents, please... Thaaaank yo-U!" I'd read advance copies of awesome writers and writers whose terrible prose should never be inflicted upon the English-speaking public, and I'd decide which ones to order for my library. I'd clock in at 9AM and clock out at 5PM, and perhaps do one or two special events a week. I'd expand the library usage by setting aside a beautiful hall to be a possible site for wedding receptions and I'd host my own anniversary parties there. I'd spend my days surrounded by soft sunlight filtering down through the skylights, whispering around the smell of old paper.
Things have been rough, vocationally, lately. I've been wondering if maybe I (and the 40 some-odd people who got me through this process, plus all my Seminary professors, my field ed supervisors, and all my CPE instructors, not to mention the Bishop of CT), have made a colossal mistake. Maybe this is not the right field for me.
And I search out all the schools for library science in my area, and wonder just how long the commute to Simmons really is.
And then, the next day, I install myself in the coffee shop, where I am right now. And I read all my saved up articles and my neglected emails and keep working on that Sunday sermon.