Rebecca Freeman

If I were to leave behind an epitaph, it would most certainly read, “Follow St. Francis!” Where did this phrase come from? While discerning my vocational path, I started receiving providential signs that became sometimes humorous as much as they were awe-inspiring. When I was 22, I first met “St. Frank.” We were introduced by my college chaplain who jokingly, but with a side eye of insistence, overheard me talking about chaplaincy and plans to look at the Jesuit graduate programs. “Oh no,” she shook her head, “the Franciscans are your people, you need to check them out.”