I grew up in a home shaped by sectarianism, where church identity was often complicated and, at times, contested. Alongside this, I was deeply fortunate in my grandmother, who took a very different approach. From a young age, she brought me with her to churches across denominations, allowing me to experience a wide range of Christian traditions until I found where I felt most at home. Through her, I learned that faith could be generous rather than defensive, and rooted rather than rigid. It became clear early on that I was drawn to high liturgy and the sacramental life of the Church, where prayer was embodied, ordered, and sustained over time.

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As a child, I first encountered monastic life at Pluscarden Abbey. That experience stayed with me. The rhythm of the Offices, the depth of silence, and the sense that prayer shaped the whole of life left a lasting impression. From that point on, Benedictine life was not simply an interest, but the form of life I carried within me. It became the horizon of my imagination and the life I learned to desire.

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Through my grandmother, I also came to know a Roman Catholic priest who had a monumental impact on my faith and vocation. I have always asked questions—often difficult ones—and Fr. Tom never discouraged this. He treated questioning as a serious and faithful way of engaging with God, not something to be resolved too quickly or smoothed over. That attentiveness to questions as a form of prayer deeply shaped how I understand faith, discernment, and vocation.

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As I grew older, my attraction to monastic life deepened. The balance of prayer, work, study, and community resonated strongly with me, and at eighteen I entered a Benedictine community. This was an enclosed community, and I received a strong formation in the Rule of St. Benedict, the Offices, and the discipline of listening with care, patience, and humility. Those years formed me and continue to shape how I live, pray, and understand religious life.

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I later left that community. Leaving was painful, but it was not a rejection of monastic life or of my vocation. Rather, it was an acknowledgement that I could not remain honestly within that particular setting. I carried my formation with me rather than setting it aside, trusting that what had been given in prayer would not be lost.

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My journey then led me into an Anglican religious community, one that was dispersed rather than enclosed. This marked a deepening of my vocation. Anglican religious life taught me that monasticism could be lived not only behind walls, but woven into ordinary places and parish life—through faithfulness, shared prayer, and a disciplined commitment to sacramental living in the midst of the world. Within this community, I encountered the depth and beauty of Anglican religious life: a tradition shaped by common prayer, theological generosity, and a profound attentiveness to the Church’s life beyond the cloister.

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It was within this Anglican context that I came out as trans. This did not change the heart of my vocation, but it clarified it. The practices that had always formed me—liturgy, sacrament, silence, attentiveness—remained constant, but I was finally able to live them truthfully and without fragmentation. The Anglican Church became the place where I learned that holiness and honesty need not be opposed, and that religious life could make room for the fullness of who I am.

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Throughout my life, the sacramental life of the Church has remained central. When certainty has been absent, the rhythm of prayer and the table of Holy Communion have remained. My vocation has been less about arriving at answers and more about staying—listening, consenting, and responding to God as I am, within the Church as it is.

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I remain shaped by the Benedictine tradition, by a love of liturgy, and by a faith that honours careful questioning. Monastic life has been the horizon of my vocation since childhood, but Anglican religious life has taught me how that vocation can be lived with integrity, beauty, and generosity in the world. It continues to be the place where I recognise both God’s call and my own deepest longing.