Just a few years ago, I was in profound grief, nearly a year after a devastating divorce marked by betrayal. My world had fallen apart, and I was still picking up the pieces. 

One Sunday, my church’s deacon preached a powerful homily on forgiveness with a level of vulnerability to which I could relate. After Mass, tears in my eyes, I approached him and said, “I need to forgive someone.” 

He sat with me, held space for my tears, and offered to meet. I testify today that the ministry of the diakonos works. My encounter with that deacon catalyzed a powerful journey of forgiveness and healing for me.

Following this act of forgiveness, the abundance of grace was indescribable. My grief blossomed into healing by a new life of prayer, service, and ministry, along with a deepening pull toward a life fully consecrated to God through Christ and service to my neighbors. 

As my faith deepened and my involvement in the Church grew, I realized that my heart desires nothing more than to do for others what the deacon did for me.

Though this particular deacon ended up being such an important part of my healing, if I’m being honest, as a woman grieving a divorce, it would have been easier in this moment to approach another woman. 

And of course there are Catholic women ministers I could have approached, but in my brokenness I didn’t have the capacity to research divorce ministries or cold call strangers. 

The deacon’s vestments, preaching, visibility, and public role were like a short cut for me —they signaled to me that the Church had formed and entrusted this person to receive people in their need and gave me the courage to approach him.

Women ministers exist in abundance with expanding access to leadership roles. As a woman, my charisms are not necessarily restricted, but they are certainly not visible in their fullness. 

I am left with questions:

Even if I pursued every parish-based leadership role available to a woman, could I reach someone as the deacon reached me?

How can the Church show those who are grieving and exhausted that I am available to receive them?

How can I become a visible voice for the spontaneous movements of the Holy Spirit without overstepping my role?

Is it appropriate to approach the man crying alone in the pew after Mass? How would he distinguish my intentions from those of an imposing stranger?

What might it mean for a woman in the place I once occupied to look up and see a woman whom the Church has publicly entrusted to receive her in her time of need?

Could the deacon have done these things if the Bishop had not laid hands upon him? 

What difference had sacramental grace made in his journey?

The more I brought these questions into prayer, spiritual direction, and confession, the more I recognized my heart’s desire was not something for which I should be ashamed.  I have no doubt the pull I received years ago is indeed a calling and to deny this calling would be to deny Christ.

Ordination matters. Baptismal inheritance matters. Sacraments matter. Traditions matter. As we seek answers to our questions, let us pray with gratitude and reverence for the beautiful gift of the diakonos. Let us pray for our existing deacons, an increase in vocations, and that the Holy Spirit may inspire us to discern vocational diversity in accordance with God’s will.

May we wear spiritual armor against the temptation of clinging to desired outcomes; may we receive all perspectives with grace. May we have the courage to ask hard questions of the leaders we respect, ordained, consecrated, or not. May we move in a way that brings glory to God. 

So where do I, and all those who feel this pull, belong? I will remain here in faithful service, circling the revolving door of discernment—not because it is my only option, but because it is the only way for me to live authentically for God.

As we ask, “Can women become deacons?” Perhaps we must also ask: What does the Holy Spirit desire of women called to carry the apostolic message into the Body of Christ?

May we continue this journey together, discerning with grace and making visible the voice of the Holy Spirit.