Encounter

She was diagnosed with chronic OCD, and put on meds for a lifetime. Then, something unexpected happened.

In the 1990s, I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. The doctor prescribed me medication and told me I would have to take them for the rest of my life. Some people think that mental health issues happen because you lack faith, but there was nothing wrong with my faith. I had always deeply loved God and relied on Him in all things, but I also felt an abiding disabling guilt. I had not been able to shake off the belief that everything that was wrong with the world was my fault.

I had a Law degree, but my heart had never been there. I had taken up law to impress my mother, who thought my choice of teaching as a profession wasn’t good enough. But I had married and given birth to my first child just before I finished it, then gone on to have seven beautiful children, so I had spent more time learning to be a mother than working in law. When we moved to Australia, the law was different, so, I went back to university to finally study my first love, Teaching. But even when I got a job doing what I loved, I felt that I was trying to justify my existence by earning money. Somehow, I didn’t feel that looking after my family and nurturing the people entrusted to me was good enough. In fact, with my crippling guilt and feeling of inadequacy, nothing ever felt enough.

Totally Unexpected

Because of our family size, it wasn’t always easy to get away on a holiday, so we were excited when we heard about the Carry Home in Pemberton where payment was a donation of what you could afford. It had a beautiful country setting close to forests. We planned to go for a weekend family retreat. They also had a prayer and worship group in Perth. When I joined, I was made to feel very welcome. 

There, at one of the retreats, something totally unexpected and overwhelming happened. I had just received prayer when I suddenly fell to the ground. Rolled up on the floor in a fetal position, I screamed and screamed and screamed. They carried me out onto this rickety old wooden verandah outside and continued to pray until eventually, I stopped screaming.

This was totally unsought and unexpected. But I knew that it was deliverance.

I just felt empty as if something had left me. After the retreat, my friends continued to check up on me and come to pray over me, asking for Mary’s intercession that the gifts of the Holy Spirit would become manifest in me. I felt so much better that after a week or two, I decided to reduce my dose of medication. Within three months, I had stopped taking the medication and felt better than I ever had.

Melting Away

I no longer felt the need to prove myself or pretend that I was better than I was. I didn’t feel that I had to excel in all things. I felt grateful for the gift of life, my family, my prayerful community and this tremendous connection with God. Freed of the need to justify my existence, I realized I could not justify my existence. It’s a gift–life, family, prayer, connection with God–these are all gifts, not something you are ever going to earn. You accept it and you thank God.

I became a better person. I didn’t have to show off, compete, or arrogantly insist that my way was the best. I realized I didn’t have to be better than the other person because it didn’t matter. God loves me, God cares for me. Out of the grip of my disabling guilt, I have since realized that “If God didn’t want me, He would have made someone else.”

My relationship with my mother had always been ambivalent. Even after becoming a mother, I was still struggling with these feelings of ambivalence. But this experience changed that for me. As God chose Mary to bring Jesus into the world, He had chosen Mary to help me on my way. My issues in the relationship with my mother, and subsequently with the Holy Mother, slowly melted away.

I felt like John at the foot of the Cross when Jesus told him: “Behold your Mother.” I have come to know Mary as the perfect mother. Now, when my mind fails, the Rosary kicks in to rescue me! I never realized how much I needed her until I made her an indispensable part of my life. Now, I couldn’t imagine stepping away.

There is a poetic meditation of an early twentieth-century Greek novelist named Nikos Kazantzakis that I keep on my nightstand when Advent comes around every year. 

He pictures Christ as a teenager, watching the people of Israel from a distant hilltop, not yet ready to begin his ministry but acutely, painfully sensitive to the longing and suffering of His people. 

The God of Israel is there among them—but they don’t know it yet.

I was reading this to my students the other day, as I do every year at the start of Advent, and one of them said to me after class: “I’ll bet that’s how Jesus feels now too.” 

I asked him what he meant. He said: “You know, Jesus, sitting there in the tabernacle, and us just walking past like He isn’t even there.” Ever since, I’ve had this new image in my Advent prayers of Jesus, waiting in the Tabernacle, looking out over His people—hearing our groans, our pleas, and our cries.

Waiting…  

Somehow, this is the way God chooses to come to us. The birth of the Messiah is THE KEY EVENT IN ALL HUMAN HISTORY, and yet, God wanted it to take place ‘so quietly that the world went about its business as if nothing had happened.’ A few shepherds noticed, and so did the magi (and we could even mention Herod, who noticed for all the wrong reasons!). Then, apparently, the whole thing was forgotten. For a time.

Somehow…there must be something in the waiting that is good for us. God chooses to wait for us. He chooses to make us wait for Him. And when you think about it in this light, the whole history of salvation becomes a history of waiting. 

So, you see, there’s this simultaneous sense of urgency—that we need to answer God’s call and that we need Him to answer our call, and soon. “Answer me, Lord, when I call to you,” the psalmist says. There’s something so brazen about this verse that it’s charming.  

There’s an urgency in the Psalms. But there is also this sense that we must learn to be patient and wait—wait in joyful hope—and find God’s answer in the waiting. 

All that Tom Naemi could think of, day and night, was that he needed to get even with those who put him behind bars.

My family immigrated to America from Iraq when I was 11 years old. We started a grocery store and we all worked hard to make it successful. It was a tough environment to grow up in and I didn’t want to be seen as weak, so I never let anyone get the better of me. Though I was going to church regularly with my family and serving on the altar, my real god was money and success. So my family was happy when I married at 19; they hoped I’d settle down.

I became a successful businessman, taking over the family grocery store. I thought I was invincible and could get away with anything, especially when I survived being shot at by rivals. When another Chaldean group started another supermarket nearby, the competition became vicious. We weren’t just undercutting each other, we were committing crimes to put each other out of business. I set a fire in their store, but their insurance paid for the repair. I sent them a time bomb, they sent people to kill me. I was furious, and decided to get my revenge once and for all. I was going to kill them; my wife begged me not to but I loaded a 14-foot truck with gasoline and dynamite and drove it toward their building. When I lit the fuse, the whole truck caught fire right away. I was caught in the flames. Just before the truck exploded, I jumped out and rolled in the snow; I couldn’t see. My face, hands, and right ear melted.

I ran away down the street and got taken to the hospital. The police came to question me, but my big-shot lawyer told me not to worry. At the last minute though, everything changed, so I left for Iraq. My wife and children followed. After seven months, I quietly came back to San Diego to see my parents. But I still had grudges I wanted to settle, so trouble started again.

Crazy Visitors

The FBI raided my mom’s house. Although I escaped in the nick of time, I had to leave the country again. As business was going well in Iraq, I decided not to go back to America. Then, my lawyer called and said that if I turned myself in, he’d make a deal to get me a sentence of only 5-8 years. I came back, but I was sent to jail for 60-90 years. On appeal, the time was cut to 15-40 years, which still seemed like forever.

As I moved from prison to prison, my reputation for violence preceded me. I often got into brawls with other inmates and people were afraid of me. I still used to go to Church, but I was filled with anger and obsessed with revenge. I had an image stuck in my mind, of walking into my rival’s store, masked, shooting everyone in the store, and walking out. I couldn’t stand it that they were free while I was behind bars. My kids were growing up without me and my wife had divorced me.

At my sixth prison in ten years, I met these crazy, holy volunteers, thirteen of them, coming in every week with priests. They were excited about Jesus all the time. They spoke in tongues and talked about miracles and healing. I thought they were crazy, but I appreciated them for coming in. Deacon Ed and his wife Barbara had been doing this for thirteen years. One day, he asked me: “Tom, how is your walk with Jesus?” I told him it was great, but there was only one thing I wanted to do. As I walked away, he called me back, asking: “Are you talking about revenge?” I told him that I simply called it “getting even.” He said: “You don’t know what it means to be a good Christian, do you?” He told me that being a good Christian didn’t just mean worshiping Jesus, it meant loving the Lord and doing everything that Jesus did including forgiving your enemies. “Well”, I said, “That was Jesus; it’s easy for Him, but it’s not easy for me.”

Deacon Ed asked me to pray every day: “Lord Jesus, take this anger from me. I ask you to come between me and my enemies, I ask you to help me forgive them and to bless them.” To bless my enemies? No way! But his repeated prompting somehow got to me, and from that day, I started praying about forgiveness and healing. 

Calling Back

For a long time nothing happened. Then, one day, as I was flipping through the channels, I saw this preacher on TV: “Do you know Jesus? Or are you just a Church-goer?” I felt he was talking directly to me. At 10 PM, as the power went out as usual, I sat there on my bunk and told Jesus: “Lord, all my life, I never knew you. I had everything, now I have nothing. Have my life. I give it to you. From now on, you use it for whatever you want. You will probably do a better job of it than I ever did.”

I joined Scripture study, and signed up for Life in the Spirit. During Scripture study one day, I saw a vision of Jesus in His glory, and like a laser from Heaven, I felt filled with God’s Love. The Scripture spoke to me, and I discovered my purpose. The Lord started talking to me in dreams and revealed things about people that they had never told anyone else. I started calling them from prison to talk about what the Lord had said, and promised to pray for them. Later, I’d hear about how they’d experienced healing in their lives. 

On a Mission

When I was transferred to another prison, they didn’t have a Catholic service, so I started one and began preaching the Gospel there. We started with 11 members, grew to 58, and more kept joining. Men were getting healed of the wounds that had imprisoned them before they ever got into prison.

After 15 years, I returned home on a new mission—Save souls, destroy the enemy. 

My friends would come home, and find me reading the Scripture for hours. They couldn’t understand what had happened to me. I told them that the old Tom had died. I was a new creation in Christ Jesus, proud to be His follower. 

I lost a lot of friends but gained a lot of brothers and sisters in Christ.

I wanted to work with youth, to deliver them to Jesus so they wouldn’t end up dead or in prison. My cousins thought I had gone mad and told my mother that I would get over it soon enough. But I went on to meet the Bishop, who gave his approval, and I found a priest, Father Caleb, who was ready to work with me on this.

Before I went to prison, I had lots of money, I had popularity, and everything had to be my way. I was a perfectionist. In my old days of crime, it was all about me, but after meeting Jesus, I realized that everything in the world was garbage compared to Him. Now, it was all about Jesus, who lives in me. He drives me to do all things, and I can’t do anything without Him. 

I wrote a book about my experiences to give people hope, not just people in prison, but anyone chained to their sins. We’re always going to have problems, but with His help, we can overcome every obstacle in life. It is only through Christ that we can find true freedom. 

My Savior lives. He is alive and well. Blessed be the Name of the Lord!

In times of trouble, have you ever thought ‘if only I had help at hand,’ not fully knowing that you do really have a personal cohort to help you out?

My daughter’s been asking me why I don’t look like the typical Pole if I am 100% Polish. I never had a good answer until this week, when I learned that some of my ancestors are Goral highlanders.

Goral highlanders live in the mountains along the southern border of Poland. They are known for their tenacity, love of freedom, and distinct dress, culture, and music. At this moment, a particular Goral folk song keeps playing over and over in my heart, so much so that I shared with my husband that it is, in fact, calling me back to my home country. Learning that I have Goral ancestry has indeed made my heart soar!

The Search for Roots

I do believe that there is some desire within each of us to get in touch with our roots. That explains the many genealogy sites and DNA-testing businesses that have popped up recently. Why is that?

Perhaps it stems from a need to know that we are part of something greater than ourselves. We long for meaning and connection with those who have gone before us. Discovering our ancestry shows we’re part of a much deeper story.

Not only that, but knowing our ancestral roots gives us a sense of identity and solidarity. We all came from somewhere, we belong somewhere, and we are on a journey together.

Reflecting on this made me realize how important it is to discover our spiritual heritage, not just our physical one. After all, we humans are body and soul, flesh and spirit. We would greatly benefit from getting to know the Saints who’ve gone before us. Not only should we learn their stories, but we should also get acquainted with them.

Finding Connection

I have to admit, I haven’t always been very good at the ask-for-the-intercession-of-a-saint practice. This is certainly a new addition to my prayer routine. What woke me up to this reality was this advice from Saint Philip Neri: “The best medicine against spiritual dryness is to place ourselves like beggars in the presence of God and the Saints. And to go like a beggar from one  to another and to ask for spiritual alms with the same insistence as a poor man on the street would ask for alms.” 

The first step is to get to know who the Saints are. There are plenty of good resources online. Another way is to read the Bible. There are powerful intercessors in both the Old and New Testaments, and you may relate to one more than the other. Plus, there are countless books on the Saints and their writings. Pray for guidance, and God will lead you to your personal cohort of intercessors.

For instance, I have asked Saint David the King for help with my music ministry. Saint Joseph is my go-to when interceding for my husband and for job discernment. I ask for help from Saint John Paul II, Saint Peter, and Saint Pius X when I feel called to pray for the Church. I pray for moms through the intercession of Saint Anne and Saint Monica. When praying for vocations, I sometimes call on Saint Therese and Saint Padre Pio. 

The list goes on. Blessed Carlo Acutis is my go-to for tech problems. Saint Jacinta and Saint Francisco teach me about prayer and how to offer up sacrifices better. Saint John the Evangelist helps me grow in contemplation. And I would be negligent to not mention that I often ask for the intercession of my grandparents. They prayed for me while they were on earth, and I know they are praying for me in eternal life.

But my all-time favorite intercessor has always been our dearly beloved Blessed Mother.

Just a Prayer Away

Who we spend time with matters. It shapes us into who we become. There truly is a “cloud of witnesses” surrounding us that we are connected to in a real way (Hebrews 12:1). Let us strive to get to know them better. We can send up simple, heart-felt prayers like, “Saint ____, I would like to get to know you better. Please help me.”

We are not meant to do-it-alone in this faith journey. We are being saved as a people group, as the Body of Christ. By staying connected to the Saints, we find both a compass that provides direction and concrete help to travel safely to our Heavenly homeland. 

May the Holy Spirit help us get in touch with our spiritual roots so that we can grow into Saints and spend eternity as one glorious family of God!

Trials in life can be exhausting…but life offers us signs to help us fight and survive

Over the years in spiritual direction, as I have listened to people share their struggles, one thing often repeated is the sense that God has abandoned them or is distant and aloof when they are going through trials. “What am I doing wrong? Why has God put me through this? Where is He in all of this?” Often people think that once they have had a serious conversion and get close to Jesus, their life is going to be problem-free. But the Lord never promised that. In fact, God’s Word is clear on this.

Thorns and Thistles

In Sirach 2:1, it says, “My child, when you come to serve the Lord, prepare yourself for trials” (that whole chapter is a great one to read, by the way). The apostles also tried to prepare new Christians for this truth as they spread the Gospel. We read in Acts 14:22, “They strengthened the spirits of the disciples and exhorted them to persevere in the faith, saying, ‘It is necessary for us to undergo many trials to enter the Kingdom of God.’”

As we grow in our relationship with God and get more serious about obeying His Word, we are going to be faced with some serious challenges and hardships. We are going to have to make decisions and take stands that make us unpopular. People are going to misunderstand us. Not everyone is going to like us.

If you want everyone to like you, forget trying to follow Jesus. Why? Because to live the Gospel life as Jesus preached it to us is to go against our culture. Jesus Himself warns us of this “If the world hates you, realize that it hated Me first. If you belonged to the world, the world would love its own; but because you do not belong to the world, and I have chosen you out of the world, the world hates you” (John 15:18-19).

So yes, we must pass through many trials and hardships in this life. But as I remind people in spiritual direction, God never leaves us on our own in those difficult times. He wants to give us encouragement and help along the way so that we persevere and come through the storms of life stronger and more convinced of His deep and abiding love for us. God is trustworthy!

Reading the Signs

Think about the example of the prophet Elijah in the Old Testament. He went against the crowd and took a strong stand against idolatry when he confronted the false prophets of Baal. After the dramatic and wildly successful confrontation, Queen Jezebel was furious and determined to kill Elijah. Fearing for his life, Elijah fled in haste to the desert. He collapsed under a broom tree, exhausted, depressed, and wanting to die. That’s when God sent an angel to bring him food and water. The angel said, “Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you” (1 Kings, 18 and 19).

God knows exactly what we need. He knew that Elijah needed to sleep, eat, and recover after a stressful event. The Lord knows what you need. God wants to meet our needs and encourage us. However, we have to be attentive to how He might be doing that. Many times I think we miss His attempts to communicate with us. The Lord did not speak to Elijah in the wind, the earthquake, or the fire. But in the “sound of sheer silence,” is when Elijah encountered God.

Lilies Everywhere

Some years ago, I was going through a time of difficult trials and desolation. Life felt very heavy and burdensome. One Saturday, a young friend of mine went out horseback riding and found a white lily-like flower in the desert and brought it back and gave it to me. The next day, I was walking down the street in El Paso and saw an artificial white lily lying on the ground. I picked it up and took it home with me.

The following day I came across another white lily-type flower growing near a sidewalk. Three white lilies in three days. I knew there was a message in this from the Lord, but I did not know exactly what He was trying to say.

As I reflected on it, a memory suddenly came back to me. Many years ago, when I was a new missionary in our community, we were having Mass at our Youth Center. After Communion, I was praying with my eyes closed. Someone tapped me on my shoulder. Startled out of my prayer, I looked up and saw the priest standing there. He said to me, “The Lord wants you to know that you are a lily in His eyes.” And then, the priest went back to the altar and sat back down. I did not really know that priest yet, and he never shared any other message like that with me again. But I stored it in my heart as a special word from the Lord to encourage me.

Now, all these years later, that memory came back to me, and now I understood the lilies. The Lord wanted to encourage me during the tough time I was going through. He was reminding me that I am His lily and that He loves me very much. It filled my heart with some much-needed peace and reassurance that I was not going through the storms alone. God was faithfully going to see me through them.

Pay Attention

God knows you by name. You are His beloved child. He sees you and knows all that you are going through. He wants to communicate His love to you, but usually, the signs come softly and gently. We can miss them if we are not paying attention.

I could have missed that message of love with the lilies. I could have thought they were just a coincidence. But I knew it was more than a coincidence, and I wanted to know the message. God revealed it to me as I pondered in my heart what the meaning might be. And when I understood it, it gave me consolation and strength to endure.

So I encourage you—persevere through the trials. Don’t quit! And look for those little signs of God’s love and encouragement along the way. I guarantee you they are there. We just need to open our eyes and ears and pay attention.

From being a faithful Muslim praying to Allah three times a day, fasting, almsgiving, and doing Namaz, to being baptized in the Pope’s Private Chapel, Munira’s journey has twists and turns that might surprise you!

My image of Allah was of a stern master who would punish my slightest error. If I wanted anything, I had to buy Allah’s favor with fasting and prayer. I always had this fear that if I were to do anything wrong, I would be punished.

The First Seed

A cousin of mine had a near-death experience, and he told me that he experienced a vision of plunging through a dark tunnel, at the end of which he saw a bright light and two people standing there—Jesus and Mary. I was confused; shouldn’t he have seen the prophet Mohammed or Imam Ali? Since he felt so sure that it was Jesus and Mary, we asked our imam for an explanation. He replied that Isa (Jesus) is also a great prophet, so when we die, he comes to escort our souls.

His answer didn’t satisfy me, but it began my search for the truth about Jesus.

The Search

Despite having lots of Christian friends, I didn’t know where to start. They invited me to a Novena to Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, and I started attending the novenas regularly, listening carefully to the homilies explaining the word of God. Although I didn’t understand much, I believe that it was Mary who understood and eventually led me to the truth.

In a series of dreams through which the Lord would speak to me over the years, I saw a finger pointing out a man dressed as a shepherd while a voice called me by name, saying, “Munira, follow Him.” I knew the shepherd was Jesus, so I asked who was speaking. He replied: “He and I are one.” I wanted to follow Him, but I didn’t know how.

Do You Believe in Angels?

We had a friend whose daughter seemed to be possessed. They were so desperate that they even asked me for a solution. As a Muslim, I told her that we have these Babas they could go to. Two months later, I was astounded when I saw her again. Instead of a thin, puny ghost of a figure I had seen earlier, she had become a healthy, radiant, robust teenager. They told me that a priest, Father Rufus, had delivered her in the name of Jesus.

After several refusals, when we finally accepted their invitation to join them at Mass with Father Rufus, he prayed over me and asked me to read a verse from the Bible; I felt such peace that there was no turning back. He spoke about The Man on the Cross—who died for Muslims, Hindus, and all mankind throughout the world. It awakened a deep desire to know more about Jesus, and I felt that God had sent him in answer to my prayer to know the Truth. When I came home, I opened the Bible for the first time and started reading it with interest.

Father Rufus advised me to seek out a prayer group, but I didn’t know how, so I started praying to Jesus on my own. At one point, I was alternately reading the Bible and the Quran, and I asked Him: “Lord, what is the Truth? If you are the Truth, then give me the desire to only read the Bible.” From then on, I was led to open only the Bible.

When a friend invited me to a prayer group, I initially said no, but she insisted, and the third time, I had to give in. The second time I went, I took my sister along. It turned out to be life-changing for both of us. When the preacher spoke, he said that he’d received a message, “There are two sisters here who have come searching for the Truth. Now their search has ended.”

As we attended the weekly prayer meetings, I slowly started to understand The Word, and I realized that I had to do two things—forgive and repent. My family was intrigued when they noticed a visible change in me, so they started coming too. When my dad learned about the importance of the Rosary, he surprisingly suggested that we start praying it together at home. From then on, we, a Muslim family, would kneel down and pray the Rosary every day.

No End to Wonders

My growing love for Jesus prompted me to join a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Before we went, a voice in a dream told me that although I held fear and anger deep within me, it would soon be released. When I shared this dream with my sister, wondering what it could all mean, she advised me to ask the Holy Spirit. I was puzzled because I didn’t really know who the Holy Spirit was. That would soon change in an amazing way.

When we visited the Church of Saint Peter (where he had that dream showing him all the animals that God now permitted them to eat (Acts 10:11-16)), the Church doors were closed because we were late. Father Rufus rang the bell, but nobody answered. After about 20 minutes, he said, “Let us just pray outside the Church,” but I suddenly felt a voice within me saying: “Munira, you go ring the bell.” With the permission of Father Rufus, I rang the bell. Within seconds, those huge doors opened. The priest had been sitting right beside them, but he only heard the bell when I rang it. Father Rufus exclaimed: “The Gentiles will receive the Holy Spirit.” I was the Gentile!

In Jerusalem, we visited the Upper Room where the Last Supper and the Descent of the Holy Spirit had taken place. As we were praising God, we heard a roar of thunder, a wind blew into the room, and I was blessed with the gift of tongues. I couldn’t believe it! He baptized me in the Holy Spirit in the same place where Mother Mary and the apostles received the Holy Spirit. Even our Jewish tour guide was astonished. He fell to his knees and prayed with us.

The Sprout Keeps Growing

When I returned home, I was longing to be baptized, but my mom said: “See Munira, we follow Jesus, we believe in Jesus, we love Jesus, but conversion…I don’t think we should do it. You know there will be many repercussions from our community.” But there was a deep desire within me to receive the Lord, especially after a dream in which He asked me to attend the Eucharist every day. I remember imploring the Lord like the Canaanite woman: “You fed her the crumbs from Your table, treat me like her and make it possible for me to attend the Eucharist.”

Shortly afterward, while I was walking with my dad, we unexpectedly arrived at a church where the Eucharistic celebration was just beginning. After attending the Mass, my dad said: “Let us come here every day.”

I feel that my road to baptism started there.

The Unexpected Gift

My sister and I decided to join the prayer group on a trip to Rome and Medjugorje. Sister Hazel, who was organizing it, casually asked me if I would like to get baptized in Rome. I wanted a quiet baptism, but the Lord had other plans. She spoke to the Bishop, who got us a five-minute appointment with a Cardinal that lasted two and a half hours; the Cardinal said he would take care of all arrangements to be baptized in Rome.

So we were baptized in the Pope’s Private Chapel by the Cardinal. I took on the name Fatima and my sister took on the name Maria. We joyfully celebrated our baptismal lunch with many cardinals, priests, and religious over there. I just felt that right through it all, the Lord was telling us: “O taste and see that the Lord is good; happy are those who take refuge in him” (Psalm 34:8).

Soon came the Cross of Calvary. Our family experienced a financial crisis that people in our community blamed on our conversion to Christianity. Astonishingly, the rest of my family went the other way. Instead of turning their backs on us and our faith, they also asked for baptism. Amid adversity and opposition, they found strength and courage, and hope in Jesus. Dad expressed it well, “There is no Christianity without a Cross.”

Today, we continue to encourage each other in our faith and share it with others whenever we have the opportunity. When I was speaking to my aunt about my conversion experience, she asked me why I addressed God as “Father.” God, for her, is Allah. I told her that I call Him Father because He has invited me to be His beloved child. I rejoice to have a loving relationship with Him Who loves me so much that He sent His Son to wash me clean from all my sins and reveal the promise of eternal life. After I shared my remarkable experiences, I asked her if she would still follow Allah if she were in my place.

She had no answer.

When struggle and pain linger, what keeps us going?

My 11-year-old son patiently sat on the examination table while the doctor tested his muscle strength as she had done so often before. Over the last eight years, I had watched her examine his skin and test his muscle strength, and each time, a panic ripped through me.

After finishing her exam, she stepped back, faced my 11-year-old son, and gently uttered the words I had dreaded: “Your muscles are showing signs of weakness. I believe the disease is active again.”

My son looked at me and then hung his head. My stomach twisted. She put her arm around his shoulders. “Hang in there. I know that, over the years, flare-ups haven’t been easy for you. I know they are very painful, but we’ve managed them before, and we can do it again.”

Breathing out slowly, I leaned against the desk next to me to steady myself. She glanced back at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, the baby is in a weird position, that’s all,” I said.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?

With a painted-on smile, I murmured, “No, I’m good, thank you.”

She turned back to my son. “We’re going to try a new medication.”

“Why, he did fine on the old medication,” I said.

“He did, but heavy doses of steroids are hard on the body.”

Why did I ask questions when I really didn’t want to hear the answers, I thought.

“I think it’s time to try a different medication.”

My son looked away and rubbed his knees anxiously.

“Try not to worry. We will get this under control.”

“Okay,” he said.

“The medication has some drawbacks, but we will meet what comes.”

My heart pounded in my chest. Drawbacks?

She turned to me, “Let’s get some blood work. I’ll call you in a week to come up with a plan.”

After an anxious week, the doctor called with the test results. “My suspicions have been confirmed. He’s having a flare-up, so we’ll begin the new medication immediately. He may experience some difficult side effects, though.”

“Side effects?”

“Yes.”

Panic set in as she listed possible side effects.

Were my prayers being answered, or was I losing my son, bit by bit?

“Call me immediately if you notice any of these,” she stated.

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

I shared the news with my husband, and said, “I’m not okay right now. I’m hanging on by a thread. The kids can’t see me like this. I need to cry it out and get myself together.”

He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye, and said, “You’re trembling, I should go with you. I don’t want you to go into labor early.”

“No, I won’t; I’ll be all right. I just need to get myself together.”

“Okay. I’ve got everything under control here. It’s going to be all right.”

Surrendering…

Driving to the chapel, I sobbed, “I can’t do this anymore. I’ve had enough. Help me, God. Help me.”

Alone in the chapel, I stared sorrowfully up at Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament.

“Jesus, please, please…stop all of this. Why does he still have this illness? Why does he have to be on such a dangerous medication? Why does he have to suffer? This is too hard. Please, Jesus, please protect him.”

I closed my eyes and pictured Jesus’ face. I drew in a deep breath and begged Him to fill my mind and heart. As the torrent of my tears waned, I recalled Jesus’ words in Archbishop Fulton Sheen’s book, Life of Christ. “I created the universe, I set the planets in motion, and the stars and the moon and the sun obey Me.” In my mind, I heard Him say:, “I am in charge! The effects of his medication are no match for Me. Let Me have your cares. Trust in Me.”

Were these my thoughts, or was God talking to me? I wasn’t sure, but I knew the words were true; I had to let go of my fears and trust in God to care for my son. I breathed in deeply and breathed out slowly, intent on releasing my fears. “Jesus, I know You are always with me. Please wrap your arms around me and comfort me. I’m so tired of being scared.”

Answer Arrives…

Suddenly, arms wrapped around me from behind. It was my brother!

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I called the house looking for you. I figured you might be here. When I saw your car in the parking lot, I thought I’d come in and check on you.”

“I was asking God to wrap His arms around me when you came up and hugged me.”

His eyes opened wide. “Really?”

“Yes, really!”

As we walked out to the parking lot, I thanked him for coming to check on me. “Your hug reminded me that God reveals His presence in loving actions. Even as I suffer, He sees, hears, and understands. His presence makes it all bearable and enables me to trust and hold onto Him, So, thank you for being a vessel of His love to me today.”

We hugged, and tears welled up in my eyes. I felt touched to the core by an overwhelming sense of God’s loving presence.

He struggled with his son’s addiction and eventual death due to an overdose. How did he survive?

Even though I was baptized,  I was un-churched growing up. My mother and father had some serious unresolved issues with the Catholic Church, so we never went to Mass, and I was never catechized. However, I had a yearning for some kind of spiritual connection, and I gravitated towards popular biblical films such as The Robe, The Ten Commandments, Ben Hur, A Man Called Peter, and The Greatest Story Ever Told. They presented God in a very intriguing way, and I gradually developed a hunger to know Him on a personal level. During the ‘60s, folk singer Jim Croce sang Time in a Bottle, intoning, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you are the one I want to journey through time with.”  I really wanted to ‘journey through time’ with Him, but I didn’t know how to connect with Him. 

The Winding Path

As a junior at Abraham Lincoln High School in San Francisco, I came to know an Irish Catholic family who were really into their faith. They said an evening rosary (in Latin, no less!), attended daily Mass, and strove to live a life of discipleship. Their religiously observant life was mysterious and beguiling. Through their example, I eventually decided to become fully initiated into the Catholic faith.

My parents, however, were not pleased with my choice. When the big day arrived for my Confirmation and First Holy Communion, we had a donnybrook of a family fight. Tears, angry words, and recriminations reverberated throughout the house. I remember saying, “Mom and Dad, I love you, but I adore Jesus, and I want to be confirmed. The Catholic Church feels like my spiritual home.”  So, I left the house and walked alone to Saint Thomas More Church near Lake Merced, where I received the Sacraments without my parents’ blessings. Soon after, I came across a reference from Matthew’s Gospel in which Jesus said, “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of Me…” (10:37). I knew exactly what He meant.

The Highway Off-ramps

I wish I could say that I continued to make such a deep commitment to Jesus as I entered adulthood. My initial conversion cloaked a rather superficial attempt at dedicating my life to Him. I started on the ‘Jesus Super Highway’ but kept taking these off-ramps as I chased the usual suspects of the goods of the world: the acquisitive pursuit of wealth and security, professional success and accomplishments, hedonistic pleasure, and, above all, control. Like the Tom Wolfe character in Bonfire of the Vanities, I really wanted to be the master of my universe. How did Jesus factor into the calculation? I basically expected Him to come along for the ride. I wanted to relate to Him on my terms. I wanted Him to validate the self-referential lifestyle I was forging.

Circling Back

This illusory tower built to accommodate my imperial ego came crashing down 30 years ago when our family was struggling with our son’s drug addiction. The hard fact is his addiction, and eventual fatal overdose precipitated my free-fall into a very dark, empty place. I felt that I had fallen into a very deep pit where nothing worked: my son was not coming back, and the sense of loss was overwhelming. I became totally disillusioned and realized how worthless the goods of the world are in addressing our deepest hunger for intimacy, communion, and fellowship.

I pleaded with Jesus to rescue me from the deep hole of darkness, anguish, and abandonment. I begged Him to take away my suffering and put my life back together again. While He didn’t “fix” my life, He did do something better: Jesus came into the pit with me, He embraced my Cross, and let me know that He would never abandon me, my family, or our departed son. I experienced the loving mercy of Jesus, the Suffering Servant who continues to suffer with His People, the Church. That is a God whom I can fall in love with. 

Jesus reveals the face of God to us. As Saint Paul writes in his letter to the Colossians, Jesus is “…the image of the invisible God” (1:15). Therefore, we have all that we need to be happy and joyful right here, right now. In Jesus, Who is the sole mediator between Heaven and Earth, everything fits; nothing is outside His circle of love—our Lord Jesus Christ calls us into a deeper relationship with God, with our brothers and sisters, and with all of Creation.

When everything around you turn to chaos, have you ever asked, “What does God want?”

My life, like each of ours, is unique and irreplaceable. God is good, and I am thankful for my life, even with all the ups and downs. I was born to Catholic parents and baptized Catholic on the Feast of Christ the King. I attended a Catholic grammar school and one year of Catholic High School. I couldn’t wait to be confirmed and become a soldier for Christ. I remember telling Jesus I would never miss Mass. I married a Catholic man and raised our children Catholic. My faith, though, was in my head and hadn’t yet moved to my heart.

Tracing Back

Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of Jesus as my friend. As a young, newly married woman, I remember missing Mass a few times because I thought I would enjoy doing whatever I wanted. I was so wrong. I thank my mother-in-law’s unwitting intervention: on one of those Sundays, she asked me how Mass was. I managed to ignore her question and change the subject, but God reached me through her question. The next Sunday, I went to Mass and resolved never to miss again.

Like many moms, I was busy with family life, volunteering at school, teaching religious education, working part-time, etc. Frankly, I did not know how to say “no” to anyone. I was exhausted. Yes, I was a good woman and tried to do good things, but I did not know Jesus very well. I knew He was my friend and received Him at Mass every week, but I realize now I was simply going through the motions.

When my kids were in junior high, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and experienced constant pain. I would come home from work and rest. The pain caused me to stop doing many things. One day a friend called to ask how I was. All I did was complain about myself and my pain. Then my friend asked me, “What does God want?” I became uncomfortable and began to cry. Then I got angry and quickly hung up. “What does God have to do with my pain,” I thought. My friend’s question haunted me. It was all I could think about.

Though to this day, I can’t remember who invited me to the women’s weekend, the minute I heard about a retreat at my parish called Christ Renews His Parish (CRHP), I immediately said, “Yes!” All I could think about was a weekend away from home, catching up on sleep, and having someone waiting on me. Again, I was so wrong. Practically every minute of the weekend was planned. Rest? I got some, but nothing like I had expected.

Notice the focus on “me, myself, and I.” Where was the Lord? Little did I know that my “yes” to this Spirit-filled weekend would open the door to my heart.

Overwhelming Presence

During one of the talks, I was moved to tears. I felt compelled to pause, and in my heart, say directly to God words that would change my life, words that I meant with all my heart, words that opened the door for Jesus to enter and began to move my knowledge of God from my head to my heart!

“Lord, I love you,” I said, “I am all yours. I will do whatever you ask of me, and I will go wherever you send me.”

My heart needed to expand so I could learn to love like God loves me. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son so that everyone who believes in Him might not perish but might have eternal life” (John 3:16).

That conversation sparked a conversion, a metanoia, a turning of my heart toward God. I had experienced the unconditional love of God, and suddenly God became first and foremost in my life. It’s just so hard to describe, except that I will never forget it. I felt like God took my hand in the darkness and ran with me. I was on fire and happy and surprised at what the Lord was doing and continues to do in my life.

Shortly after my conversion and following a Life in the Spirit seminar, I was healed of my fibromyalgia. I looked at my life and asked the Lord to help me become more like Him. I realized that I needed to learn forgiveness, so I asked God to show me who I needed to forgive or to ask forgiveness from. He did, and little by little, I learned how to forgive and accept forgiveness. I experienced healing in one of my most important relationships – my relationship with my mom. I finally learned how to love her as God did. My family experienced healing, as well. I began to pray more. Prayer was exciting to me. Silence was where I met the Lord. In 2003 I felt God calling me to Kenya, and in 2004, I volunteered at a hospice orphanage for three months. Since CRHP, I had felt called to become a spiritual director and went on to be a certified spiritual director. There is so much more. There is always so much more when you come to know Jesus Christ.

Looking back at my life, I wouldn’t change a thing because it has made me who I am today. However, I do wonder what may have happened to me had I not said those life-changing words.

God loves you. God knows you completely —good and bad— but still loves you. God wants you to live in the light of His love. God wants you to be happy and bring all your burdens to him. “Come to me all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28).

I encourage you to say this prayer from the depths of your heart: “Lord, I love you. I am all yours. I will do whatever you ask of me, and I will go wherever you send me.” I pray your life will never be the same and that no matter what is going on around you, you will find rest and peace because you walk with the Lord.

This family’s story seems like a bad movie, but the ending is sure to startle you

Our story starts at home, where I grew up in San Antonio, Texas, with my two younger brothers, Oscar and Louis. Dad was the music minister at our church, while Mom played the piano. Our childhood was happy– all about church and family, with my grandparents living nearby. We thought everything was fine, but when I was in sixth grade, Mom and Dad told us they were getting divorced. We didn’t know what that meant at first because nobody in my family had been divorced, but we soon found out. We were bounced from house to house as they fought for custody.

About a year later, Dad went out of town for the weekend. My brothers and I were supposed to be with Mom but ended up staying with some friends at the last minute. We were surprised when Dad flew home early and came to collect us but devastated when he told us why. Mom had been found dead in her car in a deserted parking lot. Apparently, two men had robbed her at gunpoint and stolen her purse and jewelry. Then, both of them raped her in the back seat before shooting her in the face three times and leaving her to die on the floorboard of her car. When Dad told us, we couldn’t believe it. Why would anybody want to kill Mom? We wondered if they were going to come after us. Fear became part of our young lives.

The Aftermath

After the funeral, we tried to return to normal life with Dad, but I’ve learned that normal never returns for victims of serious crime. Dad had a construction business. A year after Mom’s murder, Dad was arrested with two of his employees and charged with capital murder and criminal solicitation for hiring these two men to kill Mom. The three of them were all blaming each other. One of the employees claimed he overheard Dad hiring the other guy to commit the murder. Dad proclaimed his innocence, and we believed him, but his bail was denied, and everything changed for us. When Mom was killed, we were the victim’s kids. People, especially at church, wanted to help us through the process. They were giving and kind. However, after Dad was arrested, we suddenly got treated differently. There’s a stigma about being an offender’s kid. People described us as damaged goods who wouldn’t amount to anything.

We moved in with my aunt and uncle, and I started high school in Austin, but kept visiting Dad in the county jail because we loved him and believed in his innocence. Two and a half years later, Dad was finally put on trial. It was really hard for us seeing all the details splashed all over the news, especially for me because I shared the same name. When he was found guilty, we were devastated, especially when he was sentenced to death and transferred to Huntsville to await execution. If you’re the family member of an inmate, it’s like your life is on hold.

Shocking Confession

During my senior year in college, there was a new development in the case. The secretary to the District Attorney disclosed that the prosecutor had altered evidence to prove Dad was guilty. We had always believed in Dad’s innocence, so we were overjoyed. Dad was taken off death row and sent back to the county jail to await a new trial which took place four years later. My brothers and I testified for him, and the jury found him not guilty of capital murder, which meant he would never be executed. I can’t express the relief I felt to know that I wasn’t going to lose Dad like that. However, they found him guilty of the lesser charge of murder, which came with a life sentence. Despite this, everyone knew that he would be released on parole soon. We had done all we could over all these years to get Dad home, so we were so excited that it was about to happen and that he would come and live with our family.

While I was visiting him before his release, I asked him to clarify some of the issues that had come out during the trial. He said I could ask him anything, but when I got to this one particular question, he looked me right in the face and said, “Jim, I did it, and she deserved it.” I was shocked. He was confessing, and he wasn’t even sorry about what he had done. He was blaming it on Mom. He thought he was the victim because he was in prison. I was furious. I wanted him to know that he wasn’t the victim. My mom, who was buried, was the victim. I can’t describe how betrayed we all felt that he had been lying to us for all this time. It felt like we were all grieving for Mom for the very first time because when Dad got arrested, it all became about him. My family protested his parole, so the parole board denied it. I went back to see him in jail to tell him that he would go back to prison, not to Death Row, where he was safe from other prisoners, but to a maximum security prison for the rest of his life. I told him that he would never see any of us again. We had been visiting him all these years, writing to him, and putting money in his prison account. He had been a big part of our lives, but now we were turning our backs on him.

Letting the Hook Off

After four years of no contact, I went back to see Dad in prison. I had my own son now, and I couldn’t comprehend ever hurting him, especially since I’d learned that Dad had also hired the men to kill my brothers and me as well. I wanted some answers, but the first thing he did was apologize to me for what he had done to Mom, my brothers, and me. He was a man who had never said sorry for anything. I didn’t believe it, but I learned that when you hear somebody say they are sorry, you start healing. The next thing he said was, “Jim, I finally gave my life to God and became a Christian after I hit rock bottom in prison.”

For the next year, I visited Dad once a month. During that time, I went through a forgiveness process. On the face of it, it seems impossible to be able to forgive your dad for killing your mom. I work with a lot of crime victims. What I have learned is that if you don’t forgive an offender or someone who has hurt you, you become bitter, angry, and depressed. I didn’t want Dad to control me any longer, so I forgave Dad, not to let him off the hook, but to let myself off the hook. I didn’t want to be that bitter, angry, depressed man. In this process of reconciliation, I spoke up for Mom, who had had her voice taken from her. Over that year, as we talked through the issues, I saw a life change in Dad.

About a year after I resumed contact, I got a call from the prison chaplain telling me that Dad had suffered a brain aneurysm. He was brain-dead, so we had to make the decision to take him off life support, which sounds easy, but it wasn’t. Despite everything, I still loved him. We claimed his body so we wouldn’t have the legacy of having our father buried on prison grounds. We were surprised to see the warden and prison chaplain at the funeral, and they told us that, for the first time, approval had been given to have a memorial service for our dad at the prison chapel. When we attended, we sat in the front row with 300 prison inmates seated behind us, surrounded by guards. For the next three hours, the men came up to the microphone, one by one, looked us straight in the face, and told us their stories of how they had turned to Christ because Dad had shared his faith with them and changed their lives. By admitting and repenting his bad choices, taking responsibility for his actions, and asking God for forgiveness, he had taken his life in a new direction and led others with him. When you hear one person say that, it is powerful–300 is overwhelming.

I started speaking in churches, in prisons, and in restorative justice programs – to victims and to offenders wanting to rehabilitate, sharing our story of restoration after a forgiveness process. I have witnessed over and over how people can change. When I tell our story, I get to honor both our parents–Mom for the positive impact she had on our lives and Dad for his decision to truly repent of his sins. The ending of our story is that we have been able to see how God can take horrible situations and turn them into good. What we have learned about repentance and forgiveness has made us much better husbands and fathers because we were intentional in giving our families something better. We have learned through bitter experience that to truly repent, you have to keep repenting, and to truly forgive, you have to keep forgiving, not once, but constantly.

Father Joseph Gill, Shalom Tidings’ regular columnist, opens his heart to share the story of his life and how he fell in love

I suppose my vocation is less of a calling and more of a love affair with the One Who created me and drew my heart to His. From the time I was very young, I loved the Lord. I remember reading my Bible in my room when I was eight or nine. I was so inspired by the Word of God that I even tried to write my own book of the Bible (needless to say, it didn’t make the cut!). I dreamed of being a missionary or a martyr, of generously giving my life to Christ.

But then my teen years hit, and my passion for Christ got buried under worldly cares. My life began to revolve around baseball, girls, and music. My new ambition was to be a rich and famous rock musician or sports announcer.

Struck to the Soul

Thankfully, the Lord didn’t give up on me. When I was fourteen, I had the privilege of traveling to Rome on a pilgrimage with my youth group. Standing in the Colosseum, I thought, “Over ten thousand men, women, and children shed their blood for Christ right here on this spot. Why don’t I care more about my faith?” The Sistine Chapel impressed me—not because of the ceiling, but because of the art on the far wall: Michelangelo’s “Last Judgment.” There, the consequence of life-long decisions is powerfully depicted: Heaven and Hell. It struck me to the soul to think that I will spend eternity in one of those two places, I thought…“So where am I headed?”

When I returned, I knew I needed to make some changes…but that can be hard to do. I was trapped in plenty of teenage sin and angst, and drama. I tried half-heartedly to develop a prayer life, but it didn’t take root. I can’t say I really strove for holiness. It took more encounters for the Lord to win over my heart.

First, my parish started Perpetual Adoration, providing a 24/7 opportunity for people to pray before the Eucharist. My parents signed up for a weekly hour of Adoration and invited me to come. At first, I refused; I didn’t want to miss my favorite TV programs! But then I reasoned, “If I really believe what I say I believe about the Eucharist—that it is truly Jesus Christ’s Body and Blood—why wouldn’t I want to spend an hour with Him?” So, reluctantly, I began going to Adoration…and I fell in love with Him. That weekly hour of silence, Scripture, and prayer led to a realization of God’s personal, passionate love for me…and I began to desire to return that love with my whole life.

Only True Happiness

Around that same time, God led me on a few retreats that were very transformative. One was a Catholic family summer camp called Catholic Family Land in Ohio. There, for the first time, I found kids my own age who had a deep love for Jesus, and I realized it was possible (and even cool!) to strive for holiness as a young person. Then I began attending weekend retreats for high school boys with the Legionaries of Christ, and I made even more friends whose love for Christ greatly supported my spiritual journey.

Finally, as a high school senior, I began taking classes at a local community college. Until then, I was homeschooled, so I was rather sheltered. But in these college classes, I encountered atheistic professors and hedonistic fellow students whose lives revolved around the next party, the next paycheck, and the next hookup. But I noticed that they seemed so unhappy! They were constantly striving for the next pleasurable thing, not living for anything greater than themselves. It made me realize that the only true happiness is to lay down your life for others and for Christ.

From that point on, I knew my life had to be about the Lord Jesus. I began my formation at Franciscan University and attended seminary at Mount St. Mary’s in Maryland. But even as a priest, the journey continues. Every day the Lord shows more evidence of His love and leads me ever deeper into His heart. It is my prayer that all of you, my dear Shalom Tidings readers, may see your faith as a radical, beautiful love affair with the great “Lover of our souls”!