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I was a senior in high school in 1964. I had been working at the corner drug store and my mother said many times, "Wouldn't it be so great if you were a pharmacist and had your own little drug store?"
I was good in science and didn't have any other plan
so I applied and was accepted into the school of pharmacy at the University of Minnesota.

Meanwhile, at my catholic high school for girls,
the subject of the month was vocations. "Think carefully, girls," the nuns said, "perhaps you have a call to serve God as a religious sister." Whoa! It was a mandate - an obligation, directive and command. I must consider this. I went to the counselor to ask her what she thought. "Do I have a vocation?" I asked. She said, "Consider this - someone is walking down the hall carrying a stack of books, she trips and falls. All the books go crashing to the floor. What would you do?" I answered that I would stop and help them, of course. "There you have your answer. You want to help. You are a helper. You want to give. You are a giver." Whoa! Double Whoa! Maybe I do have a calling - A reverse decision or alternate course or a drop off into the abyss, not knowing what to expect? Two gigantic decisions one made very quickly; a second undoing it. Uh, oh - mom! I came home from school and she was sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee - cup in hand.
"Mom I think I have the call." The coffee cup drops into the saucer and my sister says, "I didn't hear the phone ring!"


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