From Yearning to Coming Home

Until Divine Mercy Sunday of this year, I was a lapsed Catholic that was about as far as someone could get from the Mother Church.

This is going to be a long summary post of past and present, so let me back up, and give you a bit of history about myself.

At age 15, I began my journey into the Catholic faith after a childhood in a tepid (at best) Pentecostal Holiness background. I had always had a fascination with Catholicism, and wanted to pray rosaries and have statues and incense...you get the point. The romance and mysticism of the religion appealed to me. So, my best friend in high school was from a Catholic family and unbaptized, so we went through RCIA classes together. I yearned for Communion, and was so sad to walk out of the church during Mass before the Liturgy of the Eucharist began. Eventually I was baptized, confirmed, and recieved my very first communion. Amazing experience, though looking back I think I was a bit too immature to understand what was happening to me.

Fast forward a couple of years, and I was in a lack of form marriage, my parents were divorced, and my husband introduced me to Wicca. I tried to go to Confession and begin to get my marriage blessed, but I was 19, young, and resentful when the priest admonished me. All proof that I was too young, too immature, and too stupid to realize what I was doing. I walked away from Mother Church, and began 15+ years of being a Wiccan "priestess." I thought I was so cool, so rebellious, and so evolved. Boy, was I wrong. When my life came crashing around my ears, Wicca couldn't support me. I was lost. I had 2 divorces, 2 uncles had passed, lost my job, then my mother passed, and I was thrown into a world of darkness, anxiety and depression. I was so scared. Scared of death. Scared of change. Scared of going outside my house. I had one blessing throughout this horrible time, and that was my boyfriend who was supporting me through it all. He eventually became my husband (legally) and we have a great life together now, but it took some time for all the turmoil to settle.

After my husband and I were married in a Protestant church (to satisfy our families-he believed in something bigger than us, but not sure what, and I was an unwilling athiest in my depression) we began our life together. Don't get me wrong. I love him, and I love our life together. It's just that he was a flickering candle in a drafty, dark dungeon. My chains were broken and I was finally freed the Tuesday after Easter Sunday 2015. It was a sad occasion, but his Lutheran aunt passed away Easter weekend. I walked into the church an agnostic pagan, and walked out a confused person. Lutheran services are pretty close to the Catholic Masses that I remembered. The calls and responses, the Apostles Creed...I felt like I was part of something, but a shallow echo of the real thing. After the services, the family attended a lunch provided by the ladies of the church and I spoke with the minister. He answered a lot of questions that I had, but it just didn't feel like enough. It whet my appetite, and I began to seek out Catholicism. I dusted off a rosary, grabbed a rosary guide and figured out what the luminous mysteries were all about, though I felt like a fraud.

I'm going to stop for a second and back up a little bit. I have to say, our Holy Father Pope Francis had been paving a road for me to come home and I didn't know. Looking back over my facebook from 2013-2014, there are posts where I had shared things that he had accomplished that I admired. I had joked that he was going to mess around and bring me back to the Church. Little did I know I would be eating those words soon.

Aaaand we're back. Week after Easter, I was soaking up EWTN, reading voraciously, looking for churches in my area and trying to gather up the courage to send an email to the religious formation people. So much happened in so few days, it had to be guided by the grace of God. I attended Mass on Divine Mercy Sunday. I was ushered into Confession, and even though I thought I had explained my situation well enough, the priest said I could take communion. I did, and I was transformed. I was coming home. Later, I was told that the priest was mistaken and shouldn't have let me take communion, but my spiritual director and I both think that Jesus just wanted to give me a little taste of what I could have if I would just come home. So I did. I haven't looked back since.

Summarizing from then to today, my husband began to notice a change in me. I had less anxiety, anti-depressant dosages were reduced, and he wanted to see what was going on at this church. He began to attend Mass with me, and thanks be to God he is attending RCIA. We have finished marriage prep, my previous marriages have been nullified due to lack of form and we are waiting on a dispensation from the Bishop to convalidate our marriage. God willing, I will be able to approach the Lord's Table by Christmas!

The fire that began that Sunday has spurred me towards an active Parish life. I'm a committed adorer at our Perpetual Adoration Chapel, I've become a Lay Missionary with the Missionary Sisters of the Word, and I'm attending RCIA as well to catch up on what has happened since 1997. Which has been a lot, apparently.

I'm so happy. I'm looking forward to sharing more about my experiences Coming Home. For now, I yearn and burn to be able to take part in the miracle of the Eucharist. I long to be able to partake of Jesus' body and blood so I can walk fully on the path again. I'm sorry that I ever strayed, and I never will again.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you'll join me again as I tell you more about this spiritual journey. I still have so many questions and I hope to get your feedback! Thanks again and God Bless.