The Summons: Learning to say yes to service

I cannot remember a time when I did not feel drawn toward serving others. Looking back now, I see that what I once thought was simply part of my personality was, perhaps, the quiet and patient work of God forming my heart from a young age. 

As the youngest of three, I grew up watching and learning. My sister Yvette, although not always present in my life, and my brother Bryan, helped shape who I am. As a little girl, I would “serve” crackers and juice from my Tupperware tea set, or offer slightly overbaked cakes from my Easy Bake Oven, generously covered in icing to hide my inexperience. My family received these offerings with patience and kindness. In many ways, they were my first teachers in service, not because I was skilled, but because they allowed me to try. ​

My parents taught us early that nothing is free, that work has dignity, and that gratitude matters. More importantly, they taught us that service is not meant to be transactional. It is not something we do to be seen or repaid. It is something we offer freely, placing the Lord first and trusting that He will use even our small efforts for good. 

​I was blessed to grow up in the Crowsnest Pass in southern Alberta, surrounded by the beauty of the Rocky Mountains. Creation itself became a teacher. Through time spent outdoors with my father, I began to understand that service is not only about action, but about listening to others, to the world around us, and to God. My father often reminded me that being present and attentive can be just as important as doing. 

Our Catholic faith was woven naturally into daily life. Priests were welcomed into our home. My grandparents and parents served faithfully in parish life. As a child, I buttered toast while my grandfather prepared brunch for visiting clergy. At the time, it seemed small, but I now realize those quiet moments were forming my understanding of vocation. I learned that priests give their lives entirely to God, and that all of us, in different ways, are invited to give ourselves as well. 

For a time in my youth, after suffering abuse within the Church, I stepped away. I carried anger, grief, and confusion. Yet even during those years, I found myself drawn to serve. I did not fully understand it then, but I believe now that God had not abandoned me, even when I felt far from Him.

Angela Castellarin

I pursued science and hoped to become a physician, wanting to dedicate my life to healing. I volunteered in hospitals and with children battling cancer. In many ways, I think I was trying to bring light into places that felt dark, both for others and within myself. 

Eventually, the Lord led me in a different direction. I entered paramedicine and have served as an Advanced Care Paramedic for many years. I do not see this as something I chose alone, but as a path the Lord gently opened. I have been present with families at their worst days and, at times, their most joyful ones. I have witnessed both life and death. In these moments, I am deeply aware of my limitations. Whatever good has come through my work is not mine, it belongs to God. I am simply entrusted, for a short time, with the care of His people. 

Over the years, I have also experienced profound personal suffering — the loss of my sons Andrew and Frederick -- surviving cancer multiple times, divorce, and the deep sorrow of losing my father, Deacon Renso Castellarin, and my sister, within weeks of each other. These experiences did not make me stronger in the way the world often speaks of strength. Rather, they made me more aware of my dependence on God and of my need for others. 

If I have been able to accompany others in their pain, it is only because I have been accompanied in mine by faithful priests, religious, health professionals, friends, and family who reflected Christ’s mercy to me. Their service allowed me to heal. Any service I now offer is, in many ways, simply a continuation of what was first given to me. 

Service, I am learning, is less about doing extraordinary things and more about saying “yes” in ordinary moments. It requires humility, boundaries, discernment, and the willingness to ask forgiveness when we fail. A servant must remain teachable. I fail often. I misunderstand. I grow tired. But God, in His patience, continues to invite me back. 

Recently, after a medical crisis in which I came close to death, I was reminded again that my life is not my own. If I am still here, it is not because of my strength or merit. It is because God, in His mercy, has given me more time. Time to love. Time to reconcile. Time to serve. 

As we journey through Lent, I am reminded that service is not a title or an identity to claim. It is a daily choice, often quiet and unseen. We do not need to be perfect. We are simply asked to make a sincere effort and to trust that God will complete what we cannot. 

If there is anything my life has taught me, it is this: God remains present, even in suffering. He wastes nothing. And He continues to call each of us, in ways unique to our own story, to serve with humility, gratitude, and love. 

One of my favourite hymns is the Prayer of St. Francis. It reminds us to be instruments of peace, love and service. 
May we all have the courage to say yes, again and again.  

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Written by Angela Castellarin for Faithfully. 
Photo 1: ​Image: Google Gemini, 23 Feb. 2026.
​Photo 2: Courtesy of Angela Castellarin.