I've been told a couple of times lately that I am naive in terms of my faith. I must admit that I have a simple faith. I believe that God is listening, and He cares for us far more than we can imagine.
And so, I ask Him for pretty much everything that is on my heart. One of the many things I have laid before Him is a woman I met almost two years ago.
Our children were in soccer together. As often happens, we sat beside each other on the bleachers and tried to strike up a conversation. She asked me what I do, and I told her that I write for Catholic papers and magazines. She admitted that she was a cradle Catholic but hadn't gone to Mass in many years. Before they moved to our area, they attended her husband's denomination. But since moving to the area a few years back, they simply hadn't attended anywhere.
I invited her to come back home to the Catholic Church. My own joy at being Catholic was obvious. She sighed, said her parents and siblings would probably like to see her come back, but there were commitments that sort of precluded Sunday Mass attendance. Her husband had to work on Sundays. . . probably wouldn't come with her. . . and so on.
So, we let it go. But what she didn't know is that I put it to prayer - not constantly - just when I thought of it.
And I had been thinking about it a lot lately - even though that conversation occurred almost two years ago. No reason. But just wondering - and praying.
Well, guess who I saw in the narthex after Mass a week ago? Yes, she was there. I couldn't help it. My eyes filled with tears, and I asked how she was doing. She said she was ready to come home. She didn't receive the Eucharist, she said, because she was still waiting for the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
But, it would happen, she said. And then, the girls will come in. I have to get myself in order first, she told me. Then, the girls.
Imagine my surprise at answered prayer.
Surprised by Answered Prayers
