How good God is, what beauty is His, and how grateful we should be that He possesses it! Why is it that God does what He does? Only He knows. But if He wills something to be, than by all means, so be it!

I have only known the Home for 7 months, and 5 of those months have been as a candidate, but God had been leading me slowly to the Home for almost 20 years. Those years prepared me for one moment, one invitation, an invitation to being, an invitation to a life with Him. God prepared me for the Home.

It would be impossible to talk about how I came to the Home of the Mother without first talking about my mother. My sentiments for my mother and Our Mother will at times seem to softly come together, for each has nourished my understanding of and affection for the other.

My mother: a never-ending star, a constant light unto my darkness, the ultimate example of a life of love, sacrifice, and strength (which I may only hope to imitate fully one day). She is a woman not merely a mother by right or by faculty, but by her essence. As I had entered this world into such loving arms, it was only fitting that she wished to assure that my leaving it would be an entering into the arms of Him who is Love. So, according to my mother’s wishes, in Easter of 2006, I entered the Catholic Church. I say according to her wishes because it was something that was not on my list of priorities, something for which I caused her much pain. Yet God gives us mothers for this reason, to be examples of patience and steadfastness in truth.  He gave us His Mother, who is entirely devoted to Him, the One who is the Fountain of all virtues and the Truth. All mothers are devoted to their children’s safety, and yes, mothers always know best.

My mother had wanted me to go to Ave Maria University. I, on the other hand, had different plans - my own plans - but man proposes, and God disposes. After becoming tired of the subjectivity of pleasure, of life… I was shown something objective; all was NOT relative. Love was objective. “He who loves will endeavor to declare this love by his entire being, ipso facto.”
A few days before classes started, I decided that going in the direction of Ave Maria University might not be such a terrible thing after all. The next day my mother and I were on a flight to Florida.

Through my endeavor to love and believe, I had finally found rest, but something always came upon me, something unknown to me at the time, leaving me restless. God sought me when I knew Him not. Sometimes I would end up in a church or in front of the Blessed Sacrament, and I never knew why. I didn’t understand it; I only knew it radiated some foreign comfort and peace.

Only in these spontaneous moments of God’s grace did I feel comfortable coming to Him, but I didn’t want a “religion.” I hadn’t liked what I, in my ignorance, had seen of it. I wanted a philosophy. My spirit was too restless for a God with so many rules and regulations; I needed to be free. As it turns out though, my spirit was not restless by nature, but by consequence.

At this point, a very boisterous yet loving gift from God came to my assistance: a new best friend. She has to be mentioned because without her persistent and creative encouragement, I would have never gone to church. It was only right before Easter of 2007 that this best friend started getting in the way of my scheduled all-day nap every Sunday. It was only by God’s grace that I refrained from slapping her too many times every Sunday morning when she came to wake me up. So, I started ending up in Mass every Sunday: bed-head and all. God is so very good!

I had been dragged to Mass every Sunday for about 2 months now, and it was the first weekend in May. It was this weekend that the Servant Sisters of the Home of the Mother (who I didn’t know at the time) had a three-day silent retreat for young women. They were three days that would have the single greatest impact on my life and three days that I was highly looking forward to because Tricia (the best friend) was going on the retreat. This meant it was the first Sunday since Easter that I wouldn’t be woken up with insults on my sense of fashion or chocolate being shoved up my nose. This meant I didn’t have to go to church, and I was relieved. It was also the last weekend before finals. So Friday afternoon, Tricia was off to her weekend with the nuns and I was in the library, hoping I’d pass.

I was leaving the library to go get a book I needed from my room, and for some reason I walked entirely out of my way to exit out of the building by another door. Beside that door was a small line of people, all very silent, with sober expressions on their face - not a very inviting scene in my eyes. I had come to the conclusion they must be going to confession. To my great joy and relief, I had avoided having to complete a first reconciliation when I entered the church just a year before and it certainly wasn’t something I was anxious to do any time in the near future.  So, how is it that I ended up in that line? Because God willed it so! The next thing I knew Iwas sitting down, apologizing to the priest for only knowing “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned‚” because that’s what they say in the movies. That Sunday was the first mass I ever truly participated in. God is so very good!

Confession! Confession! Confession! Eucharist! Eucharist! Eucharist! I cannot emphasize enough how important these are! How else are we to receive the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of our Lord without them! And how can we live without Him who is Life living in us! Confession is the door through which God wishes to come to us in abundance, to prepare our hearts for the sweetness that is Himself, given to us in the Eucharist!

I was told the “sisters in the white habits‚” had a house in Ecuador, where they did mission work. So, I went to go find these “white habits.” When I asked them about Ecuador, they informed me that they were going to Spain this summer and that there would be a pilgrimage to Italy, as well. A week later I had a ticket to Spain, and at the end of my summer classes, I left. I had never felt such a feeling of homecoming then when I arrived in Spain. In July 2007, on the pilgrimage to Rome, I entered the Home of the Mother as a candidate.

Live that we might lead all souls to the edge of themselves so that they may fall on God, and into the loving arms of Our Mother.

“Come to the edge.
It’s too high!
Come to the edge.
We might fall!
COME TO THE EDGE!
So they came.
She pushed
And they flew.”

            - Christopher Logue

©HM Magazine No. 140 - January/February 2008