Turns Out, My Dad's 'Lame' College Idea Was God's Plan

I had martini lunches, a human-fax-machine job and no intention of moving to California. God had other ideas.

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I was a college dropout. Twenty years old. Working for an oil company. Dating an executive. Enjoying martini lunches at the old world oilmen’s clubs. It was like a Mad Men throwback, and I loved it.

There was only one problem. My job was “human fax machine.” In those pre-fax days, I walked up and down the streets of downtown Denver, delivering documents. Without a degree, I had no hope of advancement. So I just wanted to finish that degree as quickly as possible.  Community college, correspondence school, whatever.

One beautiful July day, I was talking to a friend at the bus stop after work, bemoaning my career prospects. “And get this,” I added. “My Dad wants me to go to some school in San Francisco.”

“Really? That’s awesome! San Francisco is cool.”

This took me by surprise. Because, since this was my father’s idea, I had naturally assumed it was lame.

My bus arrived, and I climbed on. And on that bus ride, God spoke to me far more clearly than he has ever spoken to me, before or since.

“You’re going to San Francisco.”

It wasn’t audible, but it was absolutely unmistakable. And definitive. Not “maybe” or “start discerning this.” No. “You’re going.”

Walking home from the bus stop, I was looking at the beautiful Rocky Mountains, waving my arm and saying, “Shut up. I love it here. I don’t want to move to California.”

And I was laughing. Because I knew I was moving to California.

Six weeks later, I packed up my ’74 Oldsmobile and drove to the West Coast. I’m not sure I had even been accepted to the school yet. But hey, they wouldn’t dare turn me down. God had sent me.

The “lame” program was the St. Ignatius Institute at the University of San Francisco, founded by Father Joseph Fessio and others back in the 1970’s. It was a great books program built around the university's general education requirements. So we were able to take classes in our major from the regular University curriculum, while the rest of our classes were through the Institute. Those classes went chronologically through history, starting with the Old Testament and the ancient Greeks, reading only original works, the classics of Western civilization. No textbooks. The program, while critically exploring all faiths and philosophies and ideas, was also faithfully and unabashedly Catholic.

I had already secured my parents' agreement that if the Institute or its students turned out to be “lame,” I would drop it and finish my degree as a regular university student.

That did not turn out to be the case.

I wound up falling in love with the classics. Far from being boring, as I had expected, I found these ancient texts had a lot to say to a young woman in the late 20th century — a lot that I wanted to hear.

And far from being “lame,” I found in my fellow students a level of friendship I really hadn’t experienced before. Our shared faith gave us a foundation. And our love of fun gave us an amazing college experience.

One memory sticks out. We were on an Institute trip to Yosemite. Several of us were in a tent, playing a drinking game. (I told you they weren’t lame.) Somebody informed us that the director’s son was lost on Half Dome. Everybody put their beers away and pulled out their rosaries.

And I thought, “I have found my people.”

My senior year, the Institute sponsored a speaker series on the Theology of the Body. Which, at the time, nobody had heard of. That series changed the course of my life, as I became one of the first speakers to take the Holy Father’s beautiful message outside of academic circles and to the “people in the pews.” Everything I have done in the ensuing 40 years would not have happened had I not attended the SII.

It all happened because God spoke to me on a bus.

But that wasn’t all. My faith grew. My intellect grew. I learned to think critically. But, to me, one of the most important gifts the SII gave me was my beautiful, amazing Institute friends.

When I was at Colorado State University, someone told me that your college friends are your forever friends. And I looked around and thought, “Seriously?” I liked them. But I just didn’t see “forever.”       

But now, I am on a plane, flying to San Francisco for an all-class St. Ignatius Institute reunion. And I could not be more excited. So many of these people are still my very closest friends. Others I may not have seen for 20-30 years, but I still consider them my close friends. And some of the greatest gifts God has given me.

Why do I share all of this with you? Well, for one thing, I think it’s a good story. But I also know the new school year is starting, and a lot of seniors are looking at schools.

And I want to remind you that the school your children (or grandchildren, nieces and nephews, godchildren, etc.) choose matters. It can completely change the direction of their lives. I was called very specifically and loudly to one place. Unfortunately, that option is no longer open to you. The Institute had a fabulous 25-year run. But a faithfully Catholic program on a nominally Catholic campus will eventually end. While there is currently a program with the same name at USF, it is not the same program.

Still, there are a lot more options for Catholics than there were in my day. Franciscan University of Steubenville, Thomas Aquinas College, University of Dallas, Christendom College, Ave Maria University, University of Mary, the list goes on. Or, perhaps your student is being called somewhere else entirely. God can have his reasons for calling us to all kinds of places.

The key is to find out.

It is so important that the college decision is made prayerfully, so that the God who loves and sees into the future can guide us.

“But my kid won’t pray.” Yeah, I know. Do you think I was praying? I was too busy drinking martinis at the Petroleum Club. But my dad was praying. And he was gently persistent in making his “lame” suggestion, over and over, despite my utter lack of interest.

And God took it from there.