rowing up, I don't remember having been particularly drawn to the idea of a religious vocation. For that matter, I don't remember having been particularly religious. Every Sunday I went to mass at St. Angela Merici's Catholic Church in New Orleans with Mom and Dad, brother Billy, and sister Meghan. On Fridays during Lent we ate shrimp po' boys, like everyone else in New Orleans. Other than that, God and I enjoyed a pretty casual relationship.

In high school that relationship blossomed a bit with the help of the teachers at Jesuit High in New Orleans. Fr. Boudreaux, who taught Latin and Spanish, had us memorize prayers in different languages and recite them. On retreat he introduced me to a different style of praying, one used by Ignatius and his followers. Among the lay faculty as well, prayer was part of everyday life. In fact, it seemed like we were always praying. Before class, after class, at football games . . .

The idea stuck. I found myself praying on my own on occasion. Most of the time it was for the future, hoping that God planned a big family for me. I also prayed before fishing trips, promising to say rosaries in return for a big haul. I didn't have to pray many rosaries.

My high school years were normal; I devoted energy to football and finding dates to homecoming dances, passing through the awkward teenage years with no great trouble and, in fall 1995, heading to Texas A&M on a scholarship. Though I did the absolute minimum to keep that scholarship, I did find an area of study I thoroughly enjoyed. One summer working at a plant nursery and another doing golf course construction taught me that I loved working with my hands outdoors, so I majored in soil science.

fter graduation I hired on with a golf course construction company and started work in Houston as foreman of a drainage installation crew composed of Spanish-speaking immigrants. We spent time leveling off the bottom of ten-foot ditches with picks and shovels after the track-hoe had scooped out dirt, and we also installed drains for sand traps and greens. The workers and I had a great time together; they eagerly taught me Spanish and shared stories of their unbelievable journeys to the United States.

After a year of this my Spanish had improved, so I went to the Dominican Republic for more golf course construction. It proved to be a life-changing experience.

Most of those on my crew had crossed illegally into the Dominican Republic from Haiti, living in shacks and not able to feed or clothe their children properly. Though their pay for backbreaking work amounted to hardly anything, they still worked with smiles on their faces.

After work each day, I would take a few guys home to their villages and spend some time getting to know their families and playing beisbol with their kids. These visits became the day's highlight; the job became just an excuse to be with these wonderful people.

In one of the happiest moments of my life, Johnny, an irrigation crew worker, asked me to be his daughter's god-father. I remember spending pleasant evenings watching my goddaughter Mayelin sleep in her crib in a corner of Johnny's two-room hut.

ll this time I was sleeping on a king-sized bed in a four-star hotel on the beach, with access to an all-day open bar and buffet. Locals were forbidden to enter the resort town, so there was no chance for the crew to come to my place for a beer. So my daily commute was from the world of golfers, honeymooners, and spring breakers to the world of Johnny and Mayelin and back each night.

I could never connect with the tourists, and being with the workers created a deep sense of longing I didn't understand. I had always expected to marry the girl of my dreams and live happily ever after, but I hadn't been moving any closer to that goal. I spent lots of late nights socializing with the hotel guests, but the harder I tried the emptier I felt. Had God forgotten about me? For the first time in my life I began to attend mass during the week, letting God know of my unhappiness.

But things didn't improve; after a year I simply quit and went home. Unemployed, living with my parents, and depressed, I searched for a job. I couldn't suppress a feeling of anger toward God. I wanted to love and to be loved, just as my parents had. In my mind, having a family was the way to achieve this.

Then one day, strangely, I began to feel that perhaps there was something deeper than my desire to have a family. All these years what I had really wanted was a meaningful, fulfilling life, and I began to see that God had been answering my prayers all along. I thought of Mayelin and the others in the Dominican Republic, remembering the joy we brought to each other's lives. In what seemed to come naturally, I began to ask God for forgiveness for all the times that I had done wrong. I was praying from the heart for the first time in my life.

When the consolations didn't come, when I began to wonder if I had angered God so much that he would no longer forgive me, Jesus changed my life. This didn't occur in a flash but gradually, as I reflected on the Gospels and began to understand who Jesus really is. In Jesus I found that God loves me, wants to forgive me, and longs for my love in return. When I decided to make an effort to return that love, my life was filled with a joy and excitement for the future I had never experienced before.

began to attend mass at St. Vincent de Paul in Houston, just down the street from a job I had accepted with an environmental consulting firm. At the church I learned about a young adult group that met for mass once a week and did community service projects on weekends. Thinking that the group would provide an opportunity for me to build on what I had been experiencing, I showed up for mass and met other young adults who were also exploring their faith. The experience opened up a world of excitement and possibilities, and I drove home that night feeling like a new man, wanting to learn as much about God as I could and to thank Jesus for all that he had done for me.

One Saturday, on my way home from a day of recollection at a retreat center, I asked myself what could I do to show my gratitude to God? The answer was clear: join the Jesuits.

Having grown up in New Orleans, having attended a Jesuit high school, I'd been aware of the Jesuits and had seen more than a few of them in action. When I was a college sophomore, my cousin Tom Greene entered the novitiate in Grand Coteau, Louisiana, and my parents regularly updated me on his latest Jesuit adventures.

On second thought, the idea of joining the Jesuits seemed a bit overboard. I worried that those who knew me well would say that I had no business living such a life. Backing off a bit, I looked into other options. My search led me to the Catholic Worker House in Houston and work with undocumented immigrants. It was a good fit, considering my background in Spanish and interest in learning more about the struggles of immigrants. I stayed at the men's shelter, helping out with food and clothing distributions and other chores.

fter about a year, still driven by a great desire to become a Jesuit, I talked with my cousin Tom, working as an immigration attorney at Catholic Charities in Houston. He steered me to Fr. Marvin Kitten, SJ, New Orleans Province's vocation director, who invited me to a retreat at the novitiate. Getting to meet the guys who had just entered and hearing some of their own stories was a wonderful experience.

About a month after, I began the application process--gathering references, filling out a long questionnaire, physical and psychological testing, and interviewing with Jesuits.

When I got the call from Fr. Kitten that I had been accepted, I began sharing the news with family and friends. My parents were especially proud; they and my brother and sister have been extremely supportive. Though most of my college buddies have no idea what a Jesuit is, they are happy and wish me the best.

This summer I returned to the Dominican Republic for a visit, camped throughout the Southwest, and simply spent time laying around the house, eating, and watching baseball with my family.

Today you'll find me at the Jesuit novitiate in Grand Coteau, settling in and getting to know the other novices. It was a long trip here, but the atmosphere is exciting and filled with a deep sense of purpose as we prepare for this new journey together as brothers in Christ.