From the age of six, I experienced a call to public service. The figures I found myself mystified by were public figures whose lives and work were inseparable. I determined that public service meant studying the appropriate subject area in college, becoming politically over-engaged, going to law school, practicing law, and running for office. For most of my life, everything I did was oriented in that direction. I was able to be a deputy field manager for a U.S. Senate campaign and was a campaign manager for a successful city council campaign.

Despite my allegiance to the possibility of life in public service, I maintained engagement with the arts. In having studied history with the hopes of going to law school, I minored in sacred music to keep my foot in the world of the arts. Insomuch as I was Vice President of SGA, I was also in four choirs, acting in plays, and doing one-acts in undergrad. Studying sacred music began more as an intellectual pursuit than anything. But it was through engagement with the arts that I was formally introduced to The Episcopal Church as a junior in undergrad. I became a paid staff singer for a cathedral choir and evensong choir while my life seemed to be falling apart. One of my best friends passed away during this time, and the Church became a refuge. Before his passing, I’d mentioned to him my introduction to the Church and asked him, “Wouldn’t it be so funny if I became a priest?”

What was originally a paid singing gig had turned into the place I needed to be the most. In addition to single multiple services every Sunday, I found myself the following Lent attending Eucharist Monday through Friday at 7:00 am as a Lenten discipline. I found myself falling in love with the liturgy, the history, the commitment to social justice issues, and the global communion at large. The Holy Spirit was moving in me. The following year, I did an internship with a campus organization called Christian Leadership Center and co-founded an interfaith colloquium called Beliefs and Values. Having completed most requirements my senior year, I spent that year taking nothing but religious studies and philosophy courses. This changed everything. This was when I began discerning.

By way of church and school, I found God was revealing Godself to me in a way I had not experienced before. After spending my formative years being told what to believe and being discouraged from asking questions, I was being invited to discover how to believe. The Holy Spirit was having me reconsider what a life in the Church might look like. The difficulty lay in the fact that as I was studying for the LSAT, the more I yearned for God and the Church. I received advice from more than one party, to drop active study for the LSAT and spend a year discerning. That year turned into three, so that I could be sure that whatever call I had a sense of was indeed the Holy Spirit.

By the time I began applying to seminary, it was under the guise of intellectual pursuit and not becoming a priest, but after the first year of seminary, it became clear that God was calling me to pursue ordination to the priesthood. I found that sacramental life was not just enough for me to experience as a layperson, but I would not feel a sense of wholeness if I could not be the vehicle by which others got the chance to experience sacramental life. Christ had been made known to me in the Eucharist and I wanted to give that gift to others.

My first call to a job in ministry was as Lower School Chaplain at Holy Innocents’ Episcopal School, which is the largest Episcopal parish day school in the United States. I began my tenure there in January 2023, during my last semester of seminary, which was admittedly quite difficult, but it taught me more than I bargained for. Since I graduated seminary, I answered a call to be the Missioner to the Atlanta University Center at the Absalom Jones Center for Racial Healing and serve on Sundays at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Atlanta.

My ordination to the priesthood is the fulfillment of that call to public service that I have felt since I was a kid. Six-year-old Trey was pretty clear that he was supposed to love and lead people, but he was pretty misled as to how he was going to end up doing that. Ordination to the priesthood feels like an affirmation of my younger self’s desire to do as much good in the world as possible. God placed on my heart to love, lead, preach, teach, and challenge but through discernment, the call included doing so by sharing the sacramental life with people.

I hope for others that my ordination might mean that servant leadership and public service does not always mean politics. In our part of the world, which is being ravaged by harmful us versus them rhetoric, whole groups of people being demonized for being who and how God has made them to be, the attempt of stripping away the rights of swaths of the populace, and the rise of Christian nationalism, means that The Episcopal Church has a call to be civically engaged more so than it has always been. I hope my ordination to the priesthood signals that we are all called to love despite difference, be engaged in conversation because of disagreement, and to remind all that our primary call is to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving neighbor [as self]” and to “respect the dignity of every human being” however that looks and no matter how difficult it might feel.

A Louisiana native, I was reared in the Baptist Church and educated in a Roman Catholic parochial school. It was through attending a Methodist university that I found my way to the Episcopal Church at 20 years old and now at 29, I find myself becoming ordained as a priest in that Church. I have been blessed enough to have several mentors along this journey from my school chaplain at Blessed Sacrament, to college chaplains and professors at Centenary College of Louisiana, the clergy and parish of St. Mark’s Cathedral, countless professors at Emory University’s Candler School of Theology, Holy Innocents’ Episcopal Church and School, and St. Paul’s Episcopal Church.

An eternal cool kid who hikes, with over 20 tattoos, a Chacos collection, and a vast vinyl and CD collection, I live in West Midtown Atlanta.

My journey began in a small Roman Catholic parish —Santísimo Sacramento — nestled near the foothills of the Río Abajo Forest Reserve in Arecibo, Puerto Rico. It was there, under the loving guidance of my godmother, the Sunday School teacher, that I spent many quiet evenings in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament. I was just 8 years old when I found the courage to tell my priest, during my first confession, that I wanted to be a priest just like him. It was then I learned—with the tender ache only a child can feel—that because I was a girl, that path would never be possible in that church.

That moment marked the beginning of many years in which my calling felt silenced and censored. Not because the call wasn’t real, but because I had been born into a tradition where my gender was seen as a limitation rather than a gift.

In 2007, I moved from Puerto Rico to the U.S. mainland. Though I remained in the same nation politically, I became an immigrant in my own country — suddenly navigating language, culture, and identity as a stranger. I taught myself English as a second language, often learning through trial and error, carrying the weight of survival while trying to find belonging. Those early years were marked by deep hardships — socioeconomic struggles, isolation, and the emotional toll of displacement. But through it all, God’s presence never left me, even when I felt unseen by the world around me.

Eventually, I found my spiritual home in The Episcopal Church, at St. Gabriel’s Episcopal in the mountains of North Georgia — a small church where healing began to bloom. During the pandemic, as the world turned to digital spaces, I joined services from across the globe, including my beloved Diocese of Puerto Rico. In that strange and sacred time, the call I once believed buried came alive again. The fire that had long been silenced was reignited with clarity and purpose.

After more than 30 years of listening, wrestling, and learning, I received the Church’s affirmation of my vocation to the priesthood. I was blessed to finish my undergrad and my master’s in divinity with a certificate in Anglican/Episcopal studies at Candler School of Theology at Emory University. I dream that as a first-generation higher education student, I thought I would never accomplish. My call to the priesthood is both personal and collective — it rises from the people of God and returns to them.

I hold many roles that reflect the richness of God’s call in my life. My first degree is in television and radio communication technology, which has opened creative pathways for me to explore how evolving technologies can be used to foster meaningful encounters with Christ. I never imagined that technology and theology would coexist so deeply in my heart — but they do, and together they shape the way I engage ministry in today’s world.

Alongside this, I serve as a bilingual chaplain and bereavement specialist for women and children’s services, accompanying underserved migrant families from Latin America who live in the mountains of North Georgia and work in the poultry and agricultural industries. Many of these families are also survivors of human trafficking, and I am honored to walk with them through grief and healing.

At the same time, I will serve as a priest associate at Emmanuel Episcopal Church in Athens. This mosaic of ministry — pastoral care, technology, advocacy, and parish life — has taught me that the Spirit works through every part of our story. God weaves our skills, our studies, our heritage, and even our unexpected turns into a greater calling to love and serve.

Every experience I’ve lived has shaped who I am in Christ. And each one gives me the strength and compassion to show up faithfully, wherever God sends me, using every gift at my disposal to build up the Beloved Community.

This ordination is sacred to me—not only as a personal calling but as a visible witness to God’s faithfulness in the lives of those who are often unseen. As a first-generation Indigenous Afro-Latina woman and the first Puerto Rican woman to be ordained as a priest in the Episcopal Diocese of Atlanta, I carry with me the prayers of my ancestors, the wildest dreams of my grandparents, and the cries of the voiceless, especially the undocumented families, agricultural workers, and grieving mothers I have served and will continue to serve.

This moment is more than a milestone; it’s a testimony to the reality of God’s miracles. It testifies to the power of God’s Spirit moving through cultures, languages, and histories that the wider Church has too often overlooked. It is a reminder that the body of Christ is not whole until all its members are seen, heard, and empowered to lead.

This ordination is not the end of a journey, but a beginning. It’s a promise: to preach a Gospel that liberates, to break bread at altars that welcome all, and to walk with communities the world too often marginalizes. It’s a commitment to building bridges between cultures, between generations, and between heaven and earth.

For me, becoming a priest is not just about wearing beautiful vestments; it’s about lifting burdens. It’s about standing at the threshold between the Church and the world, reminding each that the other belongs. I feel the Spirit stirring, especially in the faith of young Latinx people, in the tears of those who walk in uncertainty, and in the sacred rituals of our people. This ordination is my “yes” to all of that. My “yes” to God. My “yes” to the call to love, to be a mother, to serve, and to be transformed by the Beloved Communities I am honored to walk alongside.

What’s next for me is to continue walking alongside the people who have shaped my heart and my calling — immigrant families, women in grief, children who carry silent stories, and communities on the margins who have always held the Spirit close, even when the world refused to see them.

This summer, I will begin a residency in clinical pastoral education at Northeast Georgia Health System, where I’ll serve as a hospital chaplain walking with patients and families in some of life’s most sacred and vulnerable moments. At the same time, I will also serve as a priest associate at Emmanuel Episcopal Church in Athens — a community that has welcomed me with open arms and where I look forward to growing in pastoral leadership, preaching, and sacramental ministry.

As I go forward as a priest, I hope to be a bridge between cultures, between languages, and between the Church and the world that aches outside its doors. I also carry a deep love for liturgy and communication, and I hope to continue using technology as a sacred tool to tell stories, to teach, and to invite others into holy encounters. Whether I am preaching, creating, comforting, or simply being present, my greatest hope is to always remain rooted in love — love that liberates, heals, and restores.

My prayer is that, wherever I go, I may reflect the One who called me—not in perfection, but in compassion, in courage, and in the solid belief that we are all part of God’s beautiful story.

I would not be here without the faithful love, guidance, and encouragement of those who walked with me when the path felt uncertain and when the light of my calling flickered but never went out.

First, I give thanks for my beloved husband, The Rev. Edgar Otero — my partner in life and in ministry — who has believed in my vocation even on the days I struggled to believe in it myself. His steady love and priestly witness have shaped me more than words can say.

I also give thanks for my fathers in faith:

The Rev. Peter Wallace, who first saw the spark and helped tend it with gentle wisdom.

The Rev. Canon John Thompson-Quartey, whose leadership, integrity, and encouragement have anchored me through many transitions.

The Rev. Ricardo Bailey, whose passion for the Gospel and joyful spirit remind me that ministry is not only sacred — it is alive and full of grace.

The Rev. Lang Lowry, whose quiet strength and pastoral presence helped guide me into deeper trust in the Spirit’s movement.

And The Rev. Bill Murray, whose deep care and thoughtful guidance and mentorship have helped me grow into the priest God is calling me to be.

Each of these mentors, in their own way, helped carry me when I needed it and challenged me to keep growing when I was ready. Their belief in me, their prayers, and their example have been holy ground on my journey.

Gracias de todo corazón.

I have been called to serve God’s people in the Church for as long as I can remember. God’s presence has always been palpable to me through all the joys and sorrows of my life. Jesus, who I learned about from the Gospels, exemplified by his words, his actions, his ministry, and his sacrifice, was my teacher, my mentor, my companion, and my friend. Jesus exemplified the way I wanted to live and serve in the world.

As a young person, growing up in a denomination who did not see women as capable to have leadership roles in the Church, and really didn’t see women as equals or fully human, I was always baffled by my call from God. It was only when, as my children were attending an Episcopal day school, I walked into the parish and saw a woman — the Rev. Eloise Lester — in a collar that I knew my call could be confirmed, that this vowed life was a real pathway for me, and that my life in ordained ministry was possible.

I have always been guided by the stories about Jesus in the Gospels. His humble, selfless ministry is a life that I have always wanted to emulate. The two great commandments he names over and over of loving God with heart, soul, and mind, and loving our neighbors as ourselves resonates deeply within my being. My rule of life is Micah 6:8 — to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. I am also an associate at Green Bough House of Prayer in Adrian, GA, where my rule of life is further defined and deepened—to live in simplicity, prayer, God’s holy word, and to take part in the Eucharist.

The significance of my ordination almost 30 years ago as a deacon and now in 2025 as I anticipate my ordination to the priesthood can hardly be expressed in words. But I will try! This affirmation of my life-long calling by my Creator God, my colleagues and all the people in this Church is humbling and joyous and amazing. All off it speaks to God’s graceful and loving presence in my life, to God’s ever present voice in my heart calling me to wholeness, to mentors and colleagues and friends who saw and helped me name my spiritual gifts, those who saw the priest in me, and then never stopped loving and encouraging me, and to my own faithful perseverance paired with God’s abiding presence, that even through the darkest of hours for me, has enabled me to fulfill my call at this time and place.

After ordination, I will serve at St. Anthony’s Episcopal Church with the good and faithful people of this parish in Winder. I look forward with joy to celebrating the Eucharist and being a pastoral presence to them. I look forward with hope and joy to serve this parish and the community, caring for and being present all of God’s children.

I am grateful to all my mentors and those who have guided and helped shape me. I remember with deep love and gratitude my great aunt Eleanora, who revealed to me in so many ways the Glory of God’s Creation in my first 5 1/2 years of life;  my loving parents, Walter and Mattie, who taught me kindness and laughter and gave me unconditional love; and my Aunt Edie, who told me that women can do and do well all that men can do.

In the Church, I am grateful for Bishop Frank Allan and Bishop John Rabb, who, when they were my parish priests and rectors, were caring, kind, and accepting of me, encouraging me at every turn and always present to me as incredible and faithful pastors and priests. My gratitude and love are extended to the Reverend Buddy Crawford, who has been a friend and colleague for over 30 years, who has shepherded me through a long and sometimes painful process and has modeled in every way the spiritual fullness and embodiment of the priesthood and the kind of priest I hope to become.

I have just moved to Decatur in the neighborhood of Medlock Park to a small cottage where I plan to garden again and sit in my own backyard after living in a townhouse for four years.