From my parents’ balcony on the 11th floor, there’s a breathtaking view of the city. From there, you can see, on one side, the old part of downtown, split by the river and, on the other, tall buildings by the sea.

It was the same apartment, but also completely different. A little less than two weeks after I left home to live in America, there was a major leakage issue in the building, and all the apartments had to be evacuated. My parents lost almost all of their appliances and furniture and had to live elsewhere for nearly three years. They moved back just a few months ago, after several renovations and repairs.

Living in the U.S. for four years, this was my first time traveling back to Recife, my hometown in Brazil. A lot, indeed, had changed.

My cousins who were babies were now children. The teenagers had become adults. Many friends who were dating back then were now married — and some already had more than two kids. The landscapes were different, with restaurants and squares that hadn’t existed before, and some people were no longer there.

The feeling was of being “back home.” It was a balm to be among those I love and to witness my only sister receive the sacrament of matrimony, wearing the very same dress our mother wore 41 years ago. The priest who officiated the ceremony was an old friend of mine, who I saw for the first time as a devout and caring shepherd of his people.

As I contemplated these vocations being embraced and lived, I realized that I too had changed. When God calls us, he takes us out of where we are — sometimes even geographically.

Vocation is the sum of calling and circumstance. The One who created us already had a purpose in mind, and it’s up to us to choose and develop it. It could be the state of life, profession or apostolate. When we take that step, a world of uncertainty opens up.

In my case, it meant leaving behind the place where I was born, raised and lived most of my life. When I left, I said goodbye to my family and friends and packed only the essentials in a 50-pound suitcase. The necessary things were in my heart.

Leaving is never easy, but common to all who hear the call is that voice — sometimes a whisper — that says: “Go, and follow in my footsteps.”

Amid the love of my people, delicious food and the ocean breeze, a new desire started to stir: to return home. But how, if I was already home? I laughed at the inner duality of someone who has two homes and, at the same time, none.

After all, aren’t we pilgrims on this earth? Called to be in the world but not of the world.

Suddenly, my vocation echoed once again: working at the company that carries the legacy of the one who, like few others, knew how to understand as God’s wisdom that which seemed like foolishness to others.

Mother Angelica didn’t hesitate to answer the call. With courage and tremendous boldness, she understood that God wasn’t asking her for little, and she took steps into the unknown with the dream of changing the world. And she did. She touched hearts and souls, and, today, more than ever, she still does.

Such is the path of those who seek holiness. Even with fear and in the face of challenges, they know how to recognize the voice that says: “Go, and leave everything.” Again. And once more.

God always asks us for everything, every time. And by leaving everything for the Everything, one inexplicably gains so much more: new friends, new families, new homes. It is the reward of those who say, “Yes” and bear fruit wherever they are planted — until the day when we are, at last, home.