A Letter to My Trader Joe's Cashier

Dear Inquisitive Trader Joe's Cashier,

You might have just been asking me about my day, as is the usual routine as you scan my groceries, but your questions only furthered my current existential angst. You asked me a question that echos what I have been hearing from many a stranger and close friend and which, I thought, wasn't a question I would ever have to face.
It started out so innocently. "So, what's next for you?"
I apologize for seeming aloof. At this stage in life, what's next usually refers to vital relationship or career moves, not my plans for 4:30 on Wednesday evening.
"Home to write a paper that's due tomorrow," I replied with trepidation.
"On what?"
I paused and looked into the distance for a while. In general, I try to avoid letting people know I'm a theology student. I like to let strangers have a chance to view me as a "normal" person rather than the crazy girl who studies theology and clearly must protest with the Westboro Baptists.
"Come on, just tell me."
As if he could read the shame that I usually try to deny having about my field of study.
"A theology of women.... in leadership."
The checkout, which seemed to last forever, had enough time to identify my graduate school and current program, as well as my doctoral hopes and my vocational plans to move into the academy once I (finally) finish all my schooling. And then he asked me the question that I thought only pastors asked, "Teaching? Why not go into the field, go into ministry?"
Why not go into ministry?
If you only knew, inquisitive cashier, if you only knew how many times I ask that same question. If you only knew that I struggle to write my statement of purpose because they want to know my post-doctoral vocation plans and I have no idea of what to say. If only you knew that I spent Sunday evening at a dinner for pastor-theologians asking the men who run the program what space there was for women like me in ministry. If you only knew how many times I've said, "If I were a man, I'd know my place." If only you knew.
So I apologize for my blank stares as you asked me the question that is reverberating in my brain. I apologize for leaving the store without a good bye or a thank you, just a receipt and a bag of groceries. I walked into the store thinking it was a safe space to ignore the questions that overwhelm me, and ironically, you, dear stranger, reminded me of the worlds that I am torn between.
So to answer the question I left lingering at the register: Why not ministry? Simply, because I'm not ready to accept that option yet.