Brave or Blessed?

I’ve been hearing a lot lately that what I’m doing is a brave thing, a courageous thing. I don’t know about that. It started out as something I really wanted to do, something I had lamented not being able to do in high school or college, and somewhere along the way, it seems to be have become a calling. My priest told me, when I was in discernment for the diaconate, that a calling was God affirming our own inclination. I’ve been inclined to go on this trip, and it seems that God has affirmed it. The thing about a call, though, is that once you’ve responded to it, you in some way give away your choice – willingly, joyfully, gratefully give away your choice. How does one say “yes” to God and then take it back? It seems to be a bit like a pregnant woman saying sometime around the eighth month that she’s changed her mind and has decided not to push a 35 cm head through a 10 cm cervix. There’s not much of a choice there. Somewhere along the way, she gave away her choice – willingly, joyfully, gratefully gave away her choice. And maybe a woman giving birth is brave and courageous, and maybe what I’m doing is, too. I don’t feel brave or courageous. I feel vulnerable and grateful. I feel blessed.