While on my journey from Protestantism to Catholicism, I read a passage in the Catechism that struck a chord with me. “For Christians a special gratitude is due to those from whom they have received the gift of faith . . . “ (2220).
This call to gratefulness made me reflect on the lives of many people. I thought about my maternal grandmother – how she could not separate her faithful witness from her life as a mother and grandmother – how she was always teaching and instructing her grandchildren in the faith whether she was pruning roses in her garden or squeezing lemons for fresh lemonade. I remembered the dog-eared children’s book that she read to her grandchildren occasionally, the stories of little David and angry King Saul or Ruth and Naomi or Queen Esther. I thought of the one hundred dollars my grandmother sent when I was absolutely broke and trying to raise three children by myself. I remembered how she spoke of glorious visions while on her deathbed.
My mind went to my father, a Protestant pastor who had loved the Lord with every fiber of his being. I remembered his unconditional love when I was far from loveable, his wise counsel when I was confused or distraught, and his extraordinary intelligence and gift for philosophy and theology that held me spellbound even as a teen. I remembered the lessons on suffering and death, gained only through watching him suffer and die and how his one desire was to go wherever the Lord leads – even into the shadow of death if that was God’s will.
I thought about my mother and how she led me in the Protestant prayer of repentance when I was eight years old and the wonderful form of worship she had in the simple act of playing a well-loved hymn on the living room piano before church on Sunday morning – and how she could turn a Bible story into something so interesting that even the very young would beg her to keep going when the story ended.
I thought about my new friend, Catholic writer and apologist Mary Beth Kremski, and how Our Blessed Mother brought her to me at just the right moment in my faith journey. I went to the bookshelf and touched the binding of all the books I would never have read without her suggestion. I couldn’t count the number of times she prayed for me or shared a needed piece of wisdom.
I thought about my RCIA leader, Shawn Mueller, how he has helped me work through many theological questions, even though I didn’t make it easy for him. Sometimes, I e-mailed him questions on his day off, and he sent me replies with links to helpful websites the very same day. His dedication and concern for those entrusted to him was exceptional.
And I realized that there is a special gratitude within me for all of these people.
Finally, I thought of my parish priest, Father Stoltz. I remembered the words of absolution that came after my first confession – and how forty years of sin and shame washed away instantly. I thought about the Mass, when he raised the consecrated host and proclaimed, “Body of Christ” before placing it on my tongue. And I remembered the peace that comes in that most holy moment. The verse came to mind, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, and I thought how true that is!
St. Francis de Sales in his great work Introduction to the Devout Life encourages believers to find a “faithful friend who by advice and counsel guides our actions and thus protects us from the snares and deceits of the wicked one” (46).
I am blessed to have had these people in my life. I pray that I can be all that Jesus Christ wants of me – and somehow touch the lives of others for the Kingdom of God – even as I have been touched by so many.
(Ruth and Naomi image, by C.F. Vos.)
