For years Margaret Fitzsimmons endured deep pain and shame—until she heard the four words that changed her life forever…

Broken Childhood

I came into the world in 1945, when war-torn Germany was struggling with damaged infrastructure and millions of displaced people. As a single mother going through a series of relationships, my mom struggled to raise me up. To help pay the rent, my mother would take on extra jobs like sweeping the stairs of the building we lived under, and I would be there with the dustpan trying to help.

My favorite pseudo-Dad was a policeman, a nice man. They conceived a child together, but she didn’t want the baby, so she had an abortion, then left that relationship and started working in hotels. While Mum was downstairs working and drinking with the customers, I was usually alone in the attic bedroom. When she was drunk my mother got cantankerous, and found fault for no reason when she got home. She always left a long list for me, but I could never complete it to her satisfaction. Things got worse, and she ended up in jail one night after fighting with the policeman’s new girlfriend.

From Bad to Worse

After her younger brother emigrated to Australia, my granddad thought it would be good if my Mum and uncle were in the same country. So we followed him to Australia in 1957, and lived with him for a while. Mum got a job as a cook, and I washed all the pots and pans. If she caught me not concentrating on the work, she would throw things at me, like a barbecue fork. Since I was only twelve and often made mistakes, I ended up with scars all over my body. When she was in a drunken stupor, it was even worse. I started to hate her.

We were living at a boarding house by then, and she had met a lot of new people who liked driving into the countryside and sitting under the trees to drink. I was nearly thirteen by then, so she wouldn’t leave me at home, but she would go off into the bush and leave me sitting with whoever was around. On one of those nights, I was gang-raped, but I was too scared to say anything to Mum.

Another night, driving along the highway, a car kept overtaking us and finally pulled us over. It turned out to be undercover police. They took us back to the police station and questioned us individually. When they found out I had been interfered with, a doctor came to examine me. They gave Mum a court summons for a day or two later. But as soon as we got home, she started packing and caught the next train out of town. We ended up in a small town where she got another job as a cook, and I was put on as house maid. It was a hard life, but I learned to survive.

Desperate for Hope

Mom hooked up with a fellow called Wilson, and we went to live with him in Tully. He had been in a mental institution after his first wife died. Mum soon corrupted him, and they started fighting when they were drunk. I hated being in the middle of their fights. When Mum fell pregnant, she said, “Let’s take Wilson’s car and go down to Sydney and start a new life. I don’t really want to get married or have this baby.” I felt terrible.

I was tired of being on my own, and had wanted a brother or a sister for years. So, I went and told Wilson. After he confronted my Mum, they ended up getting married, but she held me responsible. She told me I had to look after the baby because she didn’t want her. My baby sister was my world until the day I met Tom. I was sick of all the fighting, and Tom promised to marry me when I was old enough, so I left home. I thought life would be fantastic after that, but it wasn’t. Tom’s mother was lovely. She really tried to look after me, but Tom would get drunk, then come home and abuse me. He kept getting drunk and getting sacked job after job, so we moved constantly. We did marry, and I hoped he would settle down and start treating me better, but he kept beating me and having affairs. I had to escape this misery, so I cleared out and moved to Brisbane where I got a job washing dishes.

Late one night after work, I got off the bus and saw someone standing across the road. I knew it was Tom. Although I was terrified, I stayed near the light in case he tried something stupid. He followed me, but I told him I wouldn’t go back and wanted a divorce.

A New Beginning

When I got home, I packed my bags, took a train to Sydney, and got on a bus out of town. For months, I had nightmares about him chasing me. I buckled down and got a job as a domestic helper at the hospital, where I made new friends.

There was another young girl with poor English who was a lot like me. We got along well, and started our nursing training together, then worked at a hospital after our training. She knew a chap that was doing National Service in the army. When he invited her to a ball, she got me, a blind date so we could go together. I wasn’t impressed with the date, but it was a way to get out.

One of the army caterers serving the meal started paying me attention. I thought he was better than the blind date, so we had a few dances and got on well. We kept on seeing each other, but after a few weeks Peter told me he was being sent to do an aviation course. I felt terribly disappointed. We had shared our life stories, so he knew what was going on, but he didn’t give up on me and kept in contact.

The more I got to know him, the more I liked him, but I didn’t want to get married again after the first disaster. Eventually, he introduced me to his family, and we got engaged before he finished his training. He was posted to Townsville, where I had lived with Tom. Though I didn’t want to revisit the horrors of the past, I couldn’t say no to Peter. We lived together for nearly two years before we were able to marry legally. Peter had grown up Catholic but stopped practicing in the hurly burly of military training, so we got married in our backyard.

Words That Changed Everything

Sometimes I was lonely because Peter was often away servicing helicopters in the field. I got a job as a high school lab assistant, but we came to realize there was something missing in our life. We had everything, but there was still an emptiness. Then Peter suggested, “Let’s go to church.” The first few times, we sat in the back pew, but as our hearts opened to the presence of the Lord, we got more involved.

We heard about a Marriage Encounter weekend and signed up. It was a real eye opener for both of us. Our hearts were stirred.

On that weekend we learned how to communicate by writing things down. I had never been able to put what I felt into words. Mum had always told me to shut up, so I learnt not to talk, and became unable to share my emotions.

When I first heard the words, “God doesn’t make junk,” I knew those words were meant for me. A wave of emotion overcame me. “God made me. I am okay. I am not junk.” All those years, I had been putting myself down, blaming myself for the awful things that had happened—the rape, marrying someone who drank when I should have known better, the divorce, my mother’s abuse …. I was coming back to life. My heart changed for the better every time I went to Mass or a prayer meeting. I was so in love with God and my husband.

Replacing Hate With Love

Up to this point, I hadn’t ever forgiven anyone. I had put my hurts in the background, and locked them away as if they never happened. When Peter and I got engaged, I wanted to let Mum know. I sent letters, but she returned them “to sender,” so I gave up.

Then, I dreamt that I saw my mother hanging from a tree. Her stark blue eyes were open and staring down at me. I looked at her with pity and said, “God, I dislike her, but not that much.” Somehow, that dream taught me not to hate. Even if I strongly disliked what someone had done, hate was wrong. I forgave Mum completely, and that opened other doors to grace. I softened and reached out again to my mother until she finally responded, and we stayed with her for a couple of days. When my sister called to tell me she had died suddenly of a heart attack, I burst into tears.

After her death, I felt I hadn’t forgiven Mum properly, but counseling and prayers with a good priest helped restore my peace. When I uttered the words of forgiveness, the light of the Holy Spirit penetrated my being, and I knew I had forgiven her

Forgiving Tom was something I had to keep taking back to prayer. It took quite a while, and I had to say aloud more than once that I forgave Tom for the times he abused me, his affairs, and for not looking after me properly. I know I’ve forgiven him. It doesn’t take away the memories, but it does take away the hurt.

Wiping the Slate Clean

Forgiveness isn’t a one-time thing. We must forgive whenever resentment resurfaces. We must continually give up the desire to hold on to grudges, and surrender them to Jesus.

This is how I pray: “Jesus, I surrender everything to you, take care of everything.” And He does. I feel totally at peace once I have prayed that a few times.

It took a long time before I felt strong enough to bring healing forgiveness to the rape. I just pushed it aside. I didn’t even want to think about it. Yet even that was healed once I had presented it to Christ and forgiven my rapists. It doesn’t affect me anymore. God has wiped it clean, because I asked God to come and take away anything that is not of Him.

Now, I hand things over to God as they happen, and a peace washes over me. We have an awesome God, who is forgiving, morning, noon, and night. Whatever darkness we have in our lives, God is there waiting for us to repent and ask for His forgiveness, so that He can cleanse us and make us whole.

The Question of Why

Physicist Christian Simon, 33, was an atheist for a long time and expected answers to all of life’s pressing questions from science— until he came up against its limits

I grew up Catholic, received all the sacraments as is customary, and was also quite devout as a child. Unfortunately, over time I developed a terribly false image of God: God as a stern judge who throws sinners into hell, but otherwise very distant and not really interested in me. I doubted very much that God meant me well. In my youth, I even became more and more convinced that God had something against me. I imagined that He always did exactly the opposite of what I had asked Him to do. At some point it was over for me. I didn’t want to know anything more about God.

Religion—A Thing for Weirdos

At the age of about 18, I was convinced that there was no God at all. For me, only what I could experience with my senses or what could be measured by the natural sciences counted. Religion seemed to me to be only something for weirdos who either had too much imagination or were simply totally indoctrinated and had never questioned their faith. I was convinced that if everyone were as smart as I was, no one would believe in God anymore.

After a few years of self-employment, I started studying physics at the age of 26. I was burningly interested in how the world works and hoped to find my answers in physics. Who could blame me? Physics can seem very mysterious with its incredibly sophisticated mathematics that very few people in the world understand. It’s easy to get the idea that if you could just crack these coded forms and symbols, unimagined horizons of knowledge would open up—and that literally anything would then be possible. After studying all sorts of subfields of physics, and even getting to grips with the most up-to-date fundamental physics, I sat down to work on my master’s thesis on an abstract theoretical topic—one which I wasn’t convinced would ever have any relation to the real world. I finally became very aware of the limits of physics: the highest goal physics could ever reach would be a complete mathematical description of nature. And that is already very optimistic thinking. At best, physics can describe how something works, but never why it works exactly the way it does and not differently. But this question about the why was tormenting me at this time.

The Probability of God

For reasons I cannot satisfactorily explain, I was gripped in the fall of 2019 by the question of whether there is a God after all. It was a question I had asked myself on and off, but this time it wouldn’t let me go. It demanded an answer, and I would not stop until I found it. There was no key experience, no stroke of fate that would have led to it. Even Corona was not an issue at that time. For half a year I devoured everything I could find on the subject of “God” every day. During this time I did almost nothing else, so much did the question captivate me. I wanted to know if God existed and what the various religions and worldviews had to say about it. In doing so, my approach was very scientific. I thought that once I had collected all the arguments and clues, I would eventually be able to determine the probability as to whether God existed. If it were greater than 50 percent, then I would believe in God, otherwise not. Quite simple, isn’t it? Not really!

During this intense period of research, I learned an incredible amount. First, I realized that I would not reach my goal with reason alone. Second, I had thought through to the end the consequences of a reality without God. I inevitably came to the conclusion that in a world without God, everything would ultimately be meaningless.

Certainly, one can try to give meaning even to one’s life, but what would that be but an illusion, a conceit, a lie? From a purely scientific point of view, we know that at some point in the universe all the lights will go out. If nothing exists beyond that, what difference do my small and large decisions, indeed anything at all, make?

Faced with this sad prospect of a world without God, I decided in the spring of 2020 to give Him a second chance. What could it hurt to just pretend to believe in God for a while, and try everything that people who believe in God do? So I tried praying, attended church services, and just wanted to see what that would do to me. Of course, my basic openness to the existence of God didn’t make me a Christian yet; after all, there were other religions. But my research had quickly convinced me that the resurrection of Jesus was a historical fact. For me, the authority of the Church as well as the Holy Scriptures follows from this.

Proof of God

So, what came out of my experiment in “faith”? The Holy Spirit awakened my conscience from its years of hibernation. He made it very clear to me that I needed radically to change my life. And He welcomed me with open arms. Basically, my story is in the biblical parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32). I received the sacrament of reconciliation for the first time with all my strength. To this day, after each confession, I feel as if I have been reborn. I feel it all over my body: the relief, the overflowing love of God that washes away all cloudiness of the soul. This experience alone is proof of God for me, as it far exceeds any scientific attempt at explanation.

In addition, God has gifted me with a plethora of great encounters in the last two years. Right at the beginning, when I started attending church services, I met a person who was just perfect for me in my situation at that time with all my questions and problems. To this day he is a faithful and good friend. Since then, almost every month great new people have come into my life, who have helped me enormously on my way to Jesus—and this process is still going on! “Happy coincidences” of this kind have accumulated to such an overwhelming extent that I am no longer able to believe in coincidences.

Today, I have fully focused my life on Jesus. Of course, I fail at it every day! But I also get back up every time. Thank God that God is merciful! I get to know Him a little better every day and am allowed to leave the old Christian Simon behind. This is often very painful, but always healing and I go on strengthened. The regular reception of the Eucharist contributes a great part to my strengthening. A life without Jesus is unimaginable for me today. I seek Him in daily prayer, praise, Scripture, service to others, and the sacraments. No one has ever loved me as He does. And to Him belongs my heart. For all time.

God answers prayers and sometimes He goes so far beyond anything we ever believed could happen…

There’s a popular television commercial that aired for many years portraying an injured person desperately calling out, “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” Although they’re just actors selling a medical alert system that summons help in case of an emergency, each time I’ve seen that commercial I’ve wondered what it would be like to be in such a desperate vulnerable position. Being alone and incapable of getting back up after falling must feel stressful and frightening. Fortunately there are companies and gadgets we can rely on to put safety measures in place for us or our endangered loved ones.

Recurring Dilemma

That commercial came to mind one day when I was examining my conscience in preparation to receive the Sacrament of Penance (also known as Reconciliation or Confession). After reflecting on the things that were offensive to God that took me further from His presence, it was frustrating to fall off the path to holiness again and again. It occurred that there were things that I needed to confess that I’d previously confessed often. Saint Paul talks about his struggles with the same dilemma. In the book of Romans (7:15-19) he said, “I cannot understand my own behavior. I fail to carry out the things I want to do, and find myself doing the very things I hate…instead of doing the good things I want to do, I carry out the sinful things I do not want.” This is a struggle we all experience. The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines this unwanted inclination to sin as “concupiscence”.

It was easy to relate to the actor in the commercial because spiritually I’d fallen, and it felt like I couldn’t get back up. Drawing away from God placed me in a desperate, vulnerable position deprived of many of the graces He offers us. My relationship with God was damaged, and the thought of staying in that fallen state was stressful and frightening. However, Jesus loves me. He’s merciful and has put safety measures in place for all of us who still suffer with the unwanted inclination to sin.

Unceasing Prayer

The church my family attended offered the Sacrament of Penance an hour before the Saturday evening Vigil Mass. It was important for me to go to Confession on Saturday because I valued my relationship with God and wanted to restore it. I asked my husband if he would join me when confessions finished, so that we could attend Mass together. To my delight, he agreed. He was raised Methodist and for over 25 years it had been my unceasing prayer that God would place the desire on his heart to come into the fullness of his faith, by becoming a member of the Catholic Church. For now, I was waiting on God’s timing and was just happy that we’d be together.

The church wasn’t crowded, so before long I was kneeling before the priest to confess my sins. Confessing sin requires humility, but the joy of absolution left me feeling new and restored. After completing the penance from the priest, my heart no longer felt heavily weighed down by sin. Everything around me and in me was quiet, as a sense of peace encompassed my spirit once again. Repeatedly, I thanked God for His mercy. At one point, I sighed with contentment, “Lord, I don’t want to spoil this moment by asking you for anything. I just want to thank You over and over again. I want to be like the one leper who came back to thank You after You healed him.”

I knelt there engulfed in His holy presence and understood what being in a state of grace really felt like. Jesus had restored our relationship and we were one again. However, being still and quiet is a virtue that is a regular struggle for me. It wasn’t long before a strong impulse to ask God for just one thing popped into my head. “Lord, just one thing and it isn’t for myself. Please give my husband the desire to become Catholic. I want him to know what this feels like.” Time in quiet prayer passed quickly and it wasn’t long before my husband sat beside me.

I’ve heard it said that when you pray in the state of grace, your prayers are clearly heard by God. You’re so close to Him that He can hear the whispers of your heart. I’m not sure if that’s solid Catholic doctrine, but it makes a point of how important it is to remain close to God. When Mass began that evening, the priest welcomed everyone and he asked us to take a quiet moment to offer our Mass up for any personal intentions we might have that evening. His prompting was wonderful but not the way he usually opened the Mass. Not wanting to waste the moment, I immediately repeated the prayer for my husband to come into the Catholic faith. I’d never heard that priest begin the Mass like that before or since that evening. In hindsight, it was a good indication that God’s answer to my prayer was imminent. The intention remained in my heart for the rest of Mass, and I felt very connected to both God and my husband.

Startling News

On our way home, my husband unexpectedly said he had something to tell me. It was a very good thing that he was driving, because the following words might have startled me into swerving off the road. “I have decided that I want to enroll in the RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) program at our church and see if I want to become a Catholic.” Stunned, I said nothing. Thoughts and emotions swirled through my mind and body. I recall asking God: “What was happening here? Had the Sacrament of Reconciliation cleared up the connection for you to hear my prayer? Had my personal Mass intention been heard? Were You really answering my prayers after all these years?” After regaining my composure, my husband and I talked about his decision.

We had been attending Mass together for our entire marriage and it was important to him that our family went to one church. Through the years, he had had many questions, but had grown to love and trust the Catholic Church as his family. The Holy Spirit guided him to understand that was the right time to fully commit to becoming a part of that family and be able to partake in all the sacraments and their graces. The following Easter Vigil, after he’d completed the RCIA program, my husband was finally confirmed as a member of the Catholic Church, filling us both with great joy. My heart continues to dance with joy, unceasingly thanking God for this long-awaited answer to my prayer.

More Surprises in Store!

But wait, there’s more! God knew I’d asked Him if he’d really heard and answered my prayers. He wanted to make sure I knew for certainty that He had, because more surprises were in store. Two of our sons were in solid relationships. Both were wonderful young women who had grown up walking with the Lord in their Protestant faith. They too had been regularly included in my prayers for conversion to the Catholic faith, although I had not specifically prayed for them that evening. Within a week of that special Mass, independent of each other, both young women shared with me that they intended to become Catholics. I know with certainty that my husband’s decision to become a Catholic was not a mere coincidence and as an added bonus: those wonderful young women are now my daughters- in-law. Praise God!

I don’t pretend to know the mind of God, nor how the 3 of them, independent of each other, decided to become Catholics. It’s a miracle to me and I am happy to leave it at that. Okay, not exactly…one more thing. I believe that when we do something that hurts our relationship with God, we need to go to Him in Confession and say we are sorry. I believe that when we truly want to get our relationship right with God, He wants to bless us. I believe that prayer really does work and He wants to answer us. I believe that God loves me and blessed me not once, not twice, but three times that Saturday, but He wanted me to also know that He hears ALL my prayers at ALL times no matter what state I am in.

I knew that I had fallen and, because of concupiscence, I am likely to fall again. Alleluia, there is good news! Even when I cannot understand my own behavior; even when I fail to carry out the things I want to do, and find myself doing the very things I hate…even when I don’t do the good things I want to do, and carry out the sinful things I do not want; with God’s grace and through His forgiveness, I know I am not alone, I don’t have to be stressed, frightened or stay fallen. I CAN get back up.

Saint Paul, pray for us. Amen.

If you open your heart today, you can change the world! Daniella Stephans describes her incredible journey of finding love that never ends

I was a cradle Catholic, growing up in the heart of a Catholic family with 7 children. We went to Mass regularly and I felt drawn to learn more about my faith, to imitate the saints and felt attracted to the beautiful images which spoke to me about the presence of the Lord. He planted the seed of love into my life from a young age. When I was given the choice in my teens, I continued to go to Mass, even when some of my siblings didn’t, out of simple obedience. I always wanted to do the right thing and never wanted to get in trouble. I didn’t want to disappoint my parents and I knew it was a sin to deliberately miss Mass on Sundays.

However, I never really understood what was going on. I was just ticking off boxes through the different parts of the Mass. Although I felt that God was close to me, I didn’t know Him personally and still felt a gaping, throbbing hole in my heart. When I was really busy during the week, I didn’t have time to worry about it, but on weekends, I felt consumed by this deep loneliness.

Falling in Love

I was at the age, where I felt attracted by all that the material world had to offer, so I tried to solve my problem by drinking and going out to parties with friends, but that gaping hole remained unfilled. I felt rejected, lonely and disappointed. Although I wanted to be free to do my own thing, I was battling with my conscience which was telling me that so much of what I wanted to do was wrong. God hadn’t made me for that. I read in the Bible about Jacob wrestling with an angel and I could really relate to that.

As I was praying about all this at Mass one Sunday, I realized that I was in self-denial. God had a better plan for the life that He wanted me to live. Gazing up at a statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, I could sense that He was knocking on the door to my heart, asking to come in, but I was too scared to accept this amazing gift because I feared that Jesus would come in and take away my freedom. Until that moment, it was fear of getting in trouble that had kept me from worse sins. Then, somehow, by the grace of God, I found myself saying, “Right, Lord, I’ll give you a chance.”

In that moment, I looked up and for the first time noticed a picture of Jesus being baptised. He looked so strong humble and gentle. Instantly my heart changed. The fear melted away, the gaping hole was filled with incredible warmth and I fell in love with Jesus. This moment changed everything. I walked out of church feeling alive. I felt like the woman who touched the hem of Jesus’ garment and was healed instantly, freed of all my pain.

I had been scared that if I let him into my heart, He would take away my freedom, but I was wrong. The cleft in the rock in which God placed Moses is analogous to the hole pierced in the side of Christ. I felt that Christ had pulled me into His Sacred Heart where I could be kept close and protected and He could talk to me as a friend speaks to a friend, just like Moses when he spoke with the Lord.

The Dark Hole

The more I sought out personal encounters with the Lord at daily Mass and Adoration, the closer I felt to Him. So, I studied Theology and as I came to know God more intimately, He revealed Himself to me even more, even in times of tragedy, like my brother’s death. At the time, I was struggling with finding my identity after finishing my studies and feeling fearful of the future. I couldn’t feel His presence anymore and wondered if God had abandoned me. I knew all the words Jesus had said, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life… I am the Resurrection and the life.” but now my belief was being tested. Was it all true? In the silence as I sat in my brother’s room, gazing at his empty bed, I remembered how Jesus had told Martha, “Your brother will rise again,” and felt that He was saying those words to me.

When I went to World Youth Day, I felt a bit lost in the huge crowd. As I looked out around at all these people, I asked Jesus, “Lord, how do you love all these people and love me as well?” God showed me how He saw each one as an individual with whom He has a personal relationship. God gazes on each one of us with a unique and individual love. He loves you like no-one else, because there is no-one else in the world like you. God loves you uniquely, personally and individually. There is no-one from Adam to the end of time who has ever been exactly like you. So, when you feel His love personally, He sees you as the unique individual you are, in a way that no-one else can. He gave Himself up for each one of us. When He was on the Cross, He was thinking about each one of us personally by name.

Banishing My Fears

Jesus showed me that my image of the Father had been flawed. I had felt that God was condemning me, that I was in trouble. I feared His justice, but I was wrong. Jesus came into the world to reveal the Father’s love for us in His plan for our salvation—to heal the rift between God and Man by living among us. He even told us that if we had seen Him, we had seen the Father. He showed me that gaping hole in my heart was meant to be filled by God, and when I let Him in, He set me free indeed. We are made by God and for God, so when I invited Him in, He filled me with His warm and loving presence, banishing the depression and restlessness which had been troubling me.

When we try to fill that God-shaped hole with other things, they all fall short, because He is infinite and irreplaceable. It reminded me of how we are warned that “putting the wrong fuel in a vehicle can cause havoc to your journey and potentially cause extensive damage to your car engine.” Your heart is your engine and it needs the right fuel to prevent the damage that sin causes.

Daily Mass, regular Confession, prayer, Adoration, Bible reading and faith study, and a deeper relationship with Our Lady have been the fuel that has restored my heart and given me the grace to live my life in personal encounter with God. He called me to go deeper. Although it’s sometimes painful to take up my cross and follow Him daily, He has led me through trial and temptation and expanded my capacity to receive and share His love.

Amidst Your Struggles

Every day, the Enemy, Satan is trying to discourage us and turn us from God’s love. He doesn’t want us to know and experience what God has to offer. He stiffens our pride so that we are unwilling to bend to God’s will. When we feel broken by the pain that sin causes us, we delude ourselves into thinking that God doesn’t love us. Saint Therese said that Satan’s strategy is to dismantle and demolish our belief that God can love us when He is perfect and we are so imperfect.

Does God really love me when I’m struggling? One night, Jesus left His disciples struggling all night against the wind while He prayed on a mountain, but in the morning they saw Him walking toward them across the water. When you are going through difficult times, the Lord is there in the midst of your struggle. He also says to you, “Do not be afraid.” And when we feel ourselves sinking, like Peter did when his faith failed him as he walked across the water towards Jesus, we can call out, “Lord save me.” When everything seems to be going against you, fix your eyes on Him and He will not fail you.

There is always a new dawn. Every day is a day to start again. “Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). Night can be symbolic of trial and temptation. Morning is symbolic of Christ who is the Light of the World. Remember on Easter Sunday, Christ left the tomb in a burst of light. He has come to share His light with us.

Jesus’ name means God saves. He came to save us. He came to share our trials, enter into the depths with us and draw us out. Trust is like a muscle which grows under trying circumstances and pressure. Surrendering my desires to Him and trusting that He will fulfill them is hard. To be able to sincerely say, “I want God’s will above my own,” isn’t easy because we like to do what we want to do. That’s what Our Lady did when she said, “Let it be done to me according to Thy word,” (Luke 1:38). In her gentle way, she stands beside us, helping us to align our deepest desires with all that is good.

So, by the grace of God, I go forward with confidence, knowing that I can speak to the Lord as a friend and family member about all my needs. I have come to know God as a loving Father who calls us to come to Him with childlike trust in His loving plan, despite all our flaws, and mistakes, no matter how many times we have failed.

“Let us approach the throne of grace” (Hebrews 4:16) and “Do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord, your God is with you” (Joshua 1:9)

ARTICLE is based on the testimony shared by Daniella Stephans for the Shalom World program “Jesus My Savior”.

We have all been given the gift of time, but what do we do with it?

Sometimes I have trouble understanding what God is trying to tell me. I often make Him repeat Himself. Last year, over and over, I felt the Lord was placing these words on my heart –“Put a hedge around it.”

I eventually asked for clarification and this scripture came to mind: “There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a tower.” (Matthew 21:33)

I knew that hedges were bushes grown closely together, often to enclose gardens. When I asked God what He wanted me to enclose, I came to understand that I was to guard my time, especially my time with Him.

So, I began to be more careful with my morning routine. I became more conscious of my waking thoughts, dreams, and songs running through my head. I began to journal. I strove to raise my heart to the Lord with praise and thanksgiving before even stepping out of bed. Instead of sifting through social media feeds or reading the news, I poured over the daily Mass readings each day, with my morning coffee in hand.

I am guarding my interior life. I am guarding my time with the Lord. I feel rather like a watchman at daybreak.

When I sought out a spiritual director this past year, the first thing he asked was if I had a daily prayer routine. His number one goal for me was to keep a regular and consistent prayer life.

My husband and I now pray more faithfully as a couple. We have begun to pray more intentionally at mealtimes, adding heart-felt prayers along with the ones we know by heart. At the end of the day, we are keeping our commitment to pray as a family.

I pray in the car. I pray in church. I pray on my morning jog. Sometimes I walk the circumference of a park while praying the Rosary or Divine Mercy, putting a hedge of prayer around it.

I believe these new habits are already bearing fruit. I have noticed a decline in questionable activity at the park next door. I have also noticed my husband and I are working more on the same page and are more willing to laugh off our differences. But most importantly, I have noticed a change in myself. I am more at peace.

I am more in tune with what the Lord is speaking to my heart. I am more prepared to meet the challenges of each day.

God desires us all to pray without ceasing, but the first step is to put prayer hedges around our days. We need to offer up the first fruits of our day to the Lord and end our day with prayer. Our prayer hedges will differ, but we must be sure to put them up to smite the tactics of the devil.

God is ever drawing close to us, and He wants us to draw close to Him. But we are easily distracted. We need to diligently guard our time. Prayer hedges will lead to a more fruitful place.

Addiction to porn led him to hate sexuality and God, but one night everything changed. Discover the salvific journey of Simon Carrington on breaking out of pornography

I was very blessed to be raised in a Catholic home as the third born among six children. My Dad was a great spiritual leader. He led evening prayer at home and recited the Rosary every night before we went to bed. We went to St Margaret Mary’s parish, Merrylands on Sundays, serving on the altar and in the choir. So overall, God was central to my life.

Craving for More

When I was 15 years old, my grandmother passed away. I really missed her and would cry every night for months afterwards. The deep loneliness and pain that set in, led me to seek something that was going to make me feel loved.

That’s when I began to seek out pornography. The more I watched, the more I craved. Slowly, my faith began to weaken. In School, I was still having fun, playing sports, and going to Church. Outwardly I was doing everything right as just part of the routine—going to Mass, praying the Rosary etcetera, but inside my faith was dying. My heart was elsewhere because I was living in sin. Although I was going to Confession, it was more out of fear of Hell than love of God.

Turning Away

On a visit to a family friend, I discovered a stash of porn magazines right next to the toilet. I will never forget picking up the first one and flipping through the whole magazine. It was the first real, physical and tangible porn I had ever seen. I felt so many emotions rushing through—excitement that this was the answer to the emptiness I felt, but also deep shame. This seemed to be the “food” that would satisfy the ache in my heart for love. I walked out of that bathroom a different person from that day. It was then that I subconsciously turned my back on God. I chose pornography and a life of impurity over Him.

After that experience, I began buying porn magazines. Since I went to the gym every day, I found a crack in the wall there to store all these porn magazines. Every time I went to the gym, I would begin and end the session by going to the stash of magazines and flipping through for 20 or 30 minutes. That became my life for years. I became so obsessed by pornography that I almost lost my job taking toilet breaks every hour to look at porn. It took up every spare moment I had.

Stone-cold

I tried listening to different Catholic speakers and reading books on chastity and sexuality. I realized that all of them stated that sexuality was a gift from God, but I couldn’t understand this. The only thing sexuality brought me was pain and emptiness. To me, my sexuality was the furthest thing from a gift from God. It was a beast that was dragging me into Hell!

I began to hate my sexuality and hate God. It became a poison in my heart. When my family prayed the Rosary, I could not say a Holy Mary. I was almost never in a state of grace. I went to Mass for months at a time without receiving the Eucharist. Even if I went to Confession after Mass, I could never seem to last until the next day. There was no love in my heart. When my mum would hug me I would tense up like a rock. I didn’t know how to receive love and affection. On the outside, I was always friendly and happy, but on the inside I was empty and dead.

I remember coming into my room one day after just viewing pornography and I saw the crucifix on my wall. In a moment of anger I said to Jesus on the Cross, “How do you expect me to believe that sexuality is a gift from you? It is causing me so much pain and emptiness. You are a liar!” I leapt up onto my bunk bed and snatched the crucifix off the wall and smashed it over my knee. Looking at the smashed crucifix I blurted out in rage, “I hate you! You are a liar.” I then threw the crucifix in my bin.

When My Jaw Hit the Floor

Then one day, Mum told me to go to a chastity talk by Jason Evert with my older brother. I told her politely that I didn’t want to go, but thanks anyway. When she asked me again, I blurted out, “Mum, love isn’t real. I don’t believe in love!” Mum simply said, “You’re going!” That night I went reluctantly.

I remember being amazed at how Jason spoke that night. One line changed my life. He said, “Porn is the surest way to shoot your future marriage in the head.”

As soon as he said this, I realized that if I didn’t change my ways, I would be harming the woman I married because I didn’t know how to treat her properly. All the desires I once had for marriage resurfaced in me. I really did want love and marriage more than anything, but I had buried that desire with sexual sin.

I got a chance that night to speak to Jason personally and the advice he gave changed my life. He said, “Look, there’s love in your heart and there’s all these temptations to lust. Whichever you choose to feed more will grow stronger and eventually overpower the other. Until now you have been feeding lust more than love, it’s time to start feeding love.”

I knew God had touched me that night, and I decided I need a clean-start Confession. I booked a priest in for Confession and warned him it would be a long one! I made a general Confession that took about an hour and a half. I confessed every sexual sin I could possibly remember, the names of the porn stars I had watched, the number of times, the amount of hours and for how many years. I felt like a new man walking out of Confession that night.

A Beautiful Discovery

 There began the third stage of change in my life. Though I still struggled with those sins of sexual impurity, I was in a constant fight. Little by little, I was able to experience greater freedom from sexual sin, and felt God calling me to begin really learning what His plan for human sexuality was, and start sharing it with others.

I encountered speakers who unpacked Saint John Paul’s “Theology of the Body” and in the course of reading I was struck by this powerful thought: My body and every other body is a sacrament of God. I realized that I was the image of God and so was every woman. When I began to see every single person through this lens as a living sacrament of God, it became so much harder for me to use them sexually. If ever I were to lust after someone especially through masturbation and pornography, I would have to dehumanize them in my mind and in my heart. Armed with this new way of viewing myself and other women, I was empowered by the graces received from daily Mass and regular Confession to make a huge transformation.

I began to look at every woman not for sexual pleasure but truly as a beautiful sacrament of God. I was so on fire with this new message that I wanted to share it with everyone I possibly could. At that time I was working as a fitness trainer at a gym, but I felt that God was calling me to leave that environment and serve Him more directly. I wasn’t sure where I was heading, but doors began to open. I got plugged into youth ministry and started working for Parousia Media, packing and posting faith resources. While I was working, I would listen to faith talks all day, learning my faith in a powerful way. I started speaking as a youth minister to high school students almost every weekend, and I fell in love with evangelizing.

Love Like Never Before

One day, a lady reached out to my office, looking for somebody who could speak to some young adults about chastity, and especially pornography. Out of nowhere, I told her that I would do it. I shared my testimony that night, and the response was very encouraging. By word of mouth, more and more people came to know me and my story and invitations to speak began rolling in.

In the past 10 years I have given over 600 talks to over 30,000 people on the virtue of chastity, pure dating and the Theology of the Body. Through this ministry, I met my wife, Madeleine and we have been blessed with three children. God led us on a journey together to launch Fire Up Ministries, with a mission to invite every person to experience the love they always dreamed of!

At this point in my life, I am blessed to experience a level of sexual freedom that I never had before. Whenever I thank God for where I am now, I recall the days when I was really struggling in this area. There were times when I felt there was no light at the end of the tunnel and cried out to God, “Is purity possible?” It seemed hopeless, and I thought I was doomed to live like this forever. But although there were dark patches in my life which I thought would never pass, God never stopped loving me. He worked with me patiently and gently. I am still on that journey, and God is still healing me every day.

“He had some really dark moments carrying the Cross of sexual sin, but when he took it to Christ and surrendered it to Him—Christ was able to free him. Simon had a real encounter with mercy and experienced deep healing in Christ. It was from that place of mercy and healing that he has been able to bring the joy, love and above all that hope to others who are going though similar struggles with sexuality. As I would watch Simon minister to so many people, I am constantly in awe of how he radiates the love of Christ to all of them.”

—Madeleine Carrington (Simon’s Wife)

Before you fly away from your humdrum life into another romantic vampire story, consider this…

As such, you can imagine that I am very fond of romance. A lot of us are. I am also single. Not being a hideous goblin (no girl is), I could get a boyfriend easily enough. The question is: what are my standards?

I am a soldier of Christ and willing to fight to defend the truth. An important part of this truth is Christian marriage and sexuality. This topic is scorned by society at large, hence my lack of male companionship. If I am going to date, my minimum requirement is respect for my faith and boundaries. This is hard to find, but I’m not lowering my standards. I’ll tell you why.

Shocking Truth!

Forgive my bluntness. Girls my age are turned into easily- accessible entertainment for any male with eyes. In the name of empowerment, women are told to “dress how they want”. Translation: dress in the way those creepy guys on the street like. Virginity is a shameful secret. Any who dare suggest a sense of the sacred around women, marriage, or sex are evil misogynists. Poor female minors, enslaved by self-respect and safety.

One useful tool for turning women into commodities, products, or slaves is young adult fiction. Every time I open a YA book, I see this:

“McKayla is just an ordinary, plain girl with flawless skin and hair. Except she has a dark, mysterious past. ~insert stereotype. Evil or negligent parents are preferable.~ Then she meets… Brad. He’s dark, brooding, and impossibly hot (of course). What will happen, and will their mysterious connection win out against all odds?!”

Next, you get to watch McKayla describe Brad in agonizing detail every three pages. She inevitably gets mixed up with him. He’s an assassin, a vampire, or preferably both. McKayla gets sucked into a dangerous relationship. Vampire cults are encouraged. Brad will attack her, pressure her, and attempt a seduction. He will go through periods of cruelty, the silent treatment, and possessiveness, interspersed with passionate statements about his love for her. Because of this passion, our heroine will gladly cut out every healthy influence in her life, following her “true love” like a lamb to the slaughter.

Something about this feels just the tiniest bit off, doesn’t it? No? Is it only me who thinks it’s a romanticization of abuse?

Alas, I am not exaggerating or joking. Here’s a paraphrase of a random page from a teen novel I picked up: “I couldn’t quite forget that he had tried to stab me with a knife ten minutes ago, but I couldn’t take my eyes off how hot Jason looked in those white jeans. His hair was… his muscles were…” Etc., etc., etc., another uncomfortably detailed ogling of our darling attempted murderer.

I started the next book at the beginning. Page one was from the perspective of a male vampire prostitute. A girl comes and gives him money. She bares her throat for him to bite. He begins rubbing her thighs and pretending to groan in excitement. I close the book.

Finally, in a very popular YA novel, the male lead breaks into the girl’s house and watches her sleep. Oh, how romantic!

No Compromise

 Books like this groom young women to be the slaves and tools of evil men. Nothing is sadder than a young girl staying with a man who abuses her because he “loves” her. She thinks she can change him, or worse, sees nothing wrong at all. In a way, these men really are vampires. They will drain a girl of her self-respect, her virginity, and anything else they convince her to fork over. They leave their victims sucked dry in the dust.

Where does this start? What makes women believe the lies? The shameless and evil romanticism attached to abuse, seen in the media, in movies, in the teen section of the most innocent public library. There isn’t even any bad logic in it, just malice.

Marriage and sexuality are created by God and built on love. Love is built on respect, self-sacrifice, and honesty. Marriage is a union of equals, not a predator-prey relationship. Here’s a hint: this should be obvious.

Still not convinced of the damage this attitude causes? Well, no hard feelings. I mean, I’m just a teenager watching this happen. Who can we ask about this? Hey, what about Mom and Grandma? They’re pretty experienced… oh wait. Everyone knows that no one born before the 2000’s can have anything useful to say on this (or any) topic. Of course today’s youth know better than to honour their father and mother. My bad.

Alright, No more complaining. This shouldn’t be all problems and no solutions. We can still make progress in the right direction. The world might be dark, but luckily for us, the light of Christ is easier to see in the dark anyway. We, as Christians, need to fight for the concept of true love. It still exists. My parents show it. When you see an eighty-year-old couple still holding hands, remember. When you go to a wedding, remember. When you see a couple choosing children over wealth, remember. And hey, girls like me—Christian teenagers who just can’t seem to find a partner who will respect you! Don’t give up. Don’t settle for a dark, brooding guy who’ll suck you dry. Look for true love, cheesy as it might seem. It’s real. We have it every Sunday in the Eucharist. We deserve this self-respect. We deserve a partner willing to honor Christ and see Christ in us. It will be worth it.

And quit reading those vampire novels.

Struggling to break that cycle of sin in your life? Gabriel Castillo was into all things the world said were good — sex, drugs, rock and roll–until he decided to give up sin and confront the biggest battle of his life.

I was raised in a single parent household with practically no religious education. My mother is an amazing woman and she did the best she could to provide for me, but it wasn’t enough. While she was out working, I was home alone in front of cable television. I was raised by television networks such as MTV. I valued what MTV told me to value: popularity, pleasure, music, and all things ungodly. My mother did the best she could to steer me in the right direction, but without God I just went from sin to sin. From bad to worse. This is the story of more than half the people in this Country. Children are being raised by the media and the media is leading people to misery in this life and in the next.

Our Lady Steps In

My life began to dramatically change when I went to the University of Saint Thomas in Houston, Texas. At UST I took theology and philosophy courses that opened my mind to objective truth. I saw that the Catholic faith made sense. In my mind I came to believe that Catholicism was objectively true, but there was just one problem… I was a slave to the world, the flesh, and the devil.

I was becoming known as one of the best of the bad kids and one of the worst of the good kids. Amongst my bad friends, a lot of them were going through the RCIA program to receive the Sacrament of Confirmation and I thought “Hey I’m a bad Catholic…I should be able to get confirmed too”. On the required Confirmation Retreat we made a holy hour, I had no idea what a holy hour was, so I asked a professor who advised me to simply look at the Eucharist and repeat the Holy Name of Jesus. After about 10 minutes of this practice God stuck His finger into my soul and overwhelmed me with His love, and my heart of stone melted. For the rest of the hour, I cried. I knew Catholicism was true not just in my head, but also in my heart. I had to change.

One Lent, I resolved to go all in and give up mortal sin. Just 2 hours after my resolution, I realized how messed up I was when I had already committed a mortal sin. I realized I was a slave. That night God gave me true contrition for my sins and I cried to Him for mercy. That is when a demon spoke up. His voice was audible and scary. In a high pitched growl, he repeated my words mockingly, “God forgive me. I am so sorry!” Immediately I called upon Saint John Vianney. The second I made that invocation, the voice went away. The next night I was too terrified to sleep in my room because I feared hearing that voice again.

So I pulled out a Rosary, which had been blessed by John Paul II. I opened a Rosary pamphlet, because I didn’t know how to pray the Rosary. When I said the word, “I believe…” a force grabbed me by the throat, pinned me down and began choking me. I tried calling my mother, but I couldn’t speak. Then a little voice in my head said, “Pray…Hail Mary.” I tried, but couldn’t. The voice in my head said “Say them in your mind.” So in my mind I said “Hail Mary”. Then I gasped the words aloud, “Hail Mary!” Immediately everything went back to normal. I was totally freaked out and realized that this demon had been with me throughout my entire life. At the same time I realized that Mary was the answer. Even just calling upon her name liberated me from the literal grips of a demon. After a little research, I identified several reasons why I was infested with demons. My mother had New Age books, I had sinful music, I had rated R movies, I had been living in mortal sin my entire life. I had belonged to the devil, but Our Lady crushes his head. I now belong to her.

Failing to Convert Sinners

I started to pray the Rosary every single day. I found a good priest and began going to Confession frequently, almost daily. I couldn’t keep that up, so I had to start taking little steps with Mary to break all of my addictions. Mary helped free me from slavery and inspired the desire to be an apostle. When I prayed the Rosary, she helped me break my addictions and purified my mind. I ended up getting a degree in theology and a minor in philosophy because of my radical change and hunger for righteousness. I recited many Rosaries a day and saw Mary everywhere and the devil nowhere. After college, I entered the Catholic school system as a Religion teacher; I began to teach the young people everything I knew. Although they were in a Catholic school they had even greater struggles than I did. With the advent of smartphones they had new opportunities to have hidden habits and hidden lives. I was a great teacher and trying my best to win their hearts for God, but failing.

Two years in, I went on a retreat by a VERY holy priest known for having spiritual gifts of discernment of spirits and reading souls. We were encouraged to make a general confession. Looking back on the sins of a lifetime, I wept when I saw how horrible I had been in spite of God’s goodness and mercy. The priest asked, “Why are you crying?” and I sobbed, “because I’ve hurt so many people and led so many astray by my bad example.” He replied, “Do you want to make effective reparation for the damage you have done? Resolve to pray all the mysteries of the Rosary every day for an entire year, asking Our Lady to bring good out of every one of your bad actions and for every person you hurt. After that, never look back. Consider your debt paid and move on.”

Winning with Mary

I had prayed many daily Rosaries before, but never as a rule of life. When I made the entire Rosary part of my daily routine, everything changed. God’s power was with me all the time. Mary was winning through me. I was reaching souls, and my students were changing dramatically. They were begging me to put videos on YouTube. Those were early days and I lacked confidence, so I uploaded other people’s talks with pictures.

Mary led me to work at a neighboring parish that better aligned with my zeal for souls. The pastor really encouraged me to stir the pot, so with his support, I did. I began making videos on touchy topics. I entered a film contest and won a free trip to World Youth Day and $4,000 worth of video equipment. I am telling you, Our Lady is a winner. At World Youth Day in Spain, I went to Holy Mass at Saint Dominic’s Church. I was praying before a statue of Our Lady of the Rosary when I felt an overwhelming sense of Saint Dominic’s presence. It was so strong that I almost felt that I was standing before a statue of Dominic and not Our Lady. I can’t describe the exact words, it was more of a deep interior understanding that I had a mission to promote the Rosary because that has answers to the world’s problems.

I resolved to do that with the help of tools he didn’t have. I began to research everything about the Rosary—its history, its composition, its elements, the saints who prayed it. The more I studied it, the more I realized how much it provided answers. Conversions and victory in the spiritual life were fruits of the Rosary. The more I promoted it, the more I succeeded.

As part of this mission, I developed a YouTube channel, Gabi After Hours, which also has content on raising children in the faith, fasting and deliverance. The Rosary is the fuel for my apostolic work. When we pray The Rosary, we can clearly hear Our Lady. The Rosary is like a sword that severs the shackles with which the devil has bound us. It is a perfect prayer.

I currently work full-time in youth ministry with kids just like myself. The majority of them come from underprivileged families, many with only a single parent in the household. Since most of these children are fatherless, with mothers working two jobs, some fall into bad habits behind their parents’ backs, like smoking marijuana or drinking. However, when they are introduced to the Virgin Mary, the scapular, the miraculous medal and the Rosary, in particular, their lives radically change. They go from sinners to saints. From slaves of the devil to servants of Mary. They don’t just become followers of Jesus, they become apostles.

Go all in with Mary. Go all in with the Rosary. All of the great Saints agree that following Mary leads you on the fastest, most secure, and efficacious path to the heart of Jesus Christ. According to Saint Maximilian Kolbe, it is the goal and the role of the Holy Spirit to form Christ in the womb of Mary perpetually. If you want to be filled with the Holy Spirit, you must become like Mary. The Holy Spirit flies to Marian souls. This is the model for victory that Our Lord desires. We give ourselves to Mary, just like Jesus did. We cling to her, like baby Jesus did. We remain small so that she can live in us and bring Christ to others. If you want to win the battle go with Our Lady. She brings us to Christ and helps us to become like Christ.

Make a choice to take a chance and your life will never be the same

As family prayer concluded, we took up the Bible to read from the prophet Jeremiah, chapter 3. As I was reading, my thoughts flew back to the dark days when I fell into depression. Those were the days when the voice of the evil one echoed crystal clear in my head, insinuating that I was so unworthy of love, that even God would reject me. Sadly, I thought it was true. In the midst of my sorrows and tears I would go to church, not because I thought I was loved but because my parents wouldn’t let me stay home. Half-heartedly going through the motions as I reluctantly loitered in the church, I didn’t realize that Someone was constantly beckoning me to return with a whole heart. God persistently called me to repentance.

God Speaks

It’s so true that God gives us a multitude of chances to make the right choices. He spoke to me through priests, laity, dreams and quotes. Over and over again, I received the same message—God truly loved me. He didn’t want me to fall prey to Satan’s lies. He wanted me to know that I am His daughter, no matter what and He relentlessly called me back to Him. During one of those difficult days, I picked up my Bible and it fell open at Jeremiah, chapter 3. Tears glistened in my eyes as they alighted on these words:

I thought how I would set you among my children, and give you a pleasant land, the most beautiful heritage of all the nations. And I thought you would call me, My Father, and would not turn away from following me.

Jeremiah 3:19

I read it over and over again. Tears rolled down my cheeks and fell unchecked in fat drops onto the open pages of my Bible.

Realm of Truth

“What’s wrong with me?” I wondered to myself. “Why did these words touch me so deeply?” It was as if my heart was being pierced with the burning dart of God’s love, breaking through the hard shell that had formed around me, awaking me from my cold indifference.

God had given me so much, but what had I given back?

“And I thought you would call me, My Father, and would not turn away from following me.”

The sorrow in those words is palpable. “I thought you would call me, My Father.”

A loving Father, bewildered that His daughter has turned away and refuses to call on Him, yearns to hear her say, ‘My Father’.

My God, my God, why did I abandon You? He is my Father. He has always been my Father and He never stopped loving me and cherishing me, even when I refused to call Him ‘My Father’.

“And I thought you would call me, My Father, and would not turn away from following me.”
I had turned away. I had taken my eyes off Him and stopped following Him. I had let go of my Father’s hand, strayed from the path on which He could lead me safely through my troubles. He trusted me, but I let Him down. My loving Father in Heaven was heartbroken that I, His beloved daughter had abandoned Him.

Loved Beyond Measure

I sobbed uncontrollably, overwhelmed at the realization that my Father had been there for me all along, patiently waiting for me to call Him. I had been so blind, obstinately closing my eyes to ignore His presence. Now, I finally opened them to find Him right there, waiting to meet me with open arms. I felt enfolded within His embrace at last and I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders.

We are so familiar with Jesus, that we don’t often reflect on God, the Father. Close your eyes and picture Him, not as an old man with a beard, or a distant monarch, but as the loving Father waiting for all His prodigal children to come home.

This is the Father who loves His adopted children so dearly that He sent His only Son to redeem us from our sins. He is One with His Son. Every hammer blow, every stroke of the whip, every rasping breath that Jesus suffered on the Cross was shared with His Father. Through all eternity, He knew what suffering Jesus would willingly bear for our sake.

In the movie The Passion of the Christ, right after Jesus death, a single drop falls from the sky with a mighty splash. To my heart, it portrayed the silent tears of my Father in Heaven, who suffered silently with His Son through the whole ordeal. Why? For me. For you. For every last sinner. The Father is waiting for every last one of us to turn back to Him so that He can accept us back into His warm embrace where we will always be welcome. He stands waiting to wipe every tear from our faces, to wash us clean from the mire of sin and to wrap us in the cloak of His Divine Love.

Dear Father, thank you for helping me to finally realize that You love me unconditionally. For all the moments of doubt and disbelief, I beg Your pardon. Open the eyes of every single one of us, that we may come to know Your love for us. Through Our Lord Jesus Christ, Your most beloved Son. Amen.

Do Angels really exist? Here’s a story that’s going to enthrall you

When I was in high school, I was fascinated by tales of encounters with angels. I even dared to share the stories I read with friends and fellow students, who couldn’t help but be amused and intrigued. One unlikely boy showed special interest. When the bus we rode together was full of school kids he would be tough, with unfiltered behaviors and cussing. But as soon as the other students were gone and it was just the two of us, he’d turn to me and say, “Can you tell me an angel story?” I saw it as my gentle way of giving him some hope and a little push toward heaven, perhaps right when he needed it.

Around this time, I had a wonderful teacher who shared an unforgettable story with me. A friend of his was nervously walking down a dark alley praying for God’s protection. She suddenly noticed a man staring intently at her from the shadows. As she prayed more fervently, he stepped toward her, but then stopped short and suddenly backed away, turning his face to the wall.

She later heard that a young woman was attacked in that same alley only an hour after she had been there. She went to the police and told them she had seen someone in the alley a short while before the attack on the other woman. The police informed her they had someone in custody and wondered if she would view a line-up of suspects. She readily consented and sure enough among the suspects was the man she’d seen in the alley.

She asked to speak to him and was escorted to the room where he was being held. As she entered, the man stood and gazed at her with a look of recognition.

“Do you remember me?” she asked. He nodded. “Yes. I saw you there, in the alley.”

She pressed on. “Why didn’t you attack me instead of the other woman?” He looked at her in confusion. “Are you kidding me?” he said, “with those two big guys walking on either side of you?!”

Perhaps that story is apocryphal, but I loved it. It reminded me that guardian angels are not just a comforting thought or pleasant imaginings from our childhood. They are real. They are powerful and faithful. And they have been appointed to watch over us and protect us with God’s presence. But do we take our hidden friends for granted? And do we trust them to come to our need when we truly need them?

From one of my favorite saints, St. Padre Pio, I learned to think more often of my guardian angel and to speak to him openly. I had no doubt that my angel was already working hard and fighting spiritual battles on my behalf, but one day I experienced his presence powerfully.

I was seventeen, had missed my bus, and despite frigid weather, I decided to drive my big, cold-sensitive car to school. While driving up a steep, country hill, the car began to slow. I pushed the gas pedal to the floor but only crept along. There were no houses close by and I didn’t have a cell phone. If the car died, it would be a long walk in freezing weather before I could get help. I remembered there was a mom-and-pop restaurant a mile or so down the road and held onto the hope that, if I made it up the hill, I might have enough down-hill momentum to reach the restaurant.

But the car slowed and I knew it was unlikely I would make it up the hill.  “Okay, angel!” I said out loud. “I need you to push this car. Please, push me up the hill.” The car sped up.  I felt a difference in its movement, so I encouraged my angel, “Almost there! Come on! Please keep pushing.” The car crept to the top and somehow lurched over the peak. I began the descent down the other side moving fast at first but soon lost momentum. I saw the restaurant in the distance and begged my angel to keep pushing the car, though I didn’t think I’d make it.

But the car found new momentum, just enough to make it into the restaurant parking lot and into a spot facing a plate-glass window. Then, as if on cue, the car died.  “Was that a fluke,” I wondered. “I’m grateful that this worked out perfectly,” I thought, “but was it actually my angel’s intervention?” Then I looked up and through the restaurant window I saw a huge painting of a guardian angel on the back wall. It was the painting I had loved since childhood that depicts two children crossing a dangerous bridge under the watchful protection of their guardian angel. I was overwhelmed. I learned later that my fuel line had completely frozen, and it was a wonder that I reached a safe place.

My story may not have been as dramatic as my teacher’s incredible tale, but it confirmed my belief that our guardian angels watch over us and that we should never hesitate to ask for help—even if it’s just a little push when we need it.

I believe sharing stories like these, like sharing stories of saints, is a powerful way to evangelize. They provide assurance that we are not alone, that we have a Father who loves us enough to assign dear allies to care for us in our times of need.

As the weeks rolled by with my husband working from home, putting us together 24 hours a day, I found myself once again feeling like a volcano about to erupt…Little did I know then how quarantine would change my life…

It was the spring of 2020 and Covid-19 had spread throughout the country and much of the world. It was a time when quarantine changed my life. We were adapting to new phrases like “social distancing,” and “sheltering in place.” And connecting to others was limited to the use of technology. Thus, a friend of mine encouraged me and some other friends to join her for an online Bible study, pandemic-style. After watching sections of a video and reading portions of the book that accompanied it, we’d text our thoughts and comments to one another.

In the first chapter of the study I came across the word “forbearance.” Despite having been a student of Scripture for years, I realized this term was not a part of my lexicon! It was not unfamiliar to me, as I’d come across it throughout the Bible, but the word forbearance seemed better suited to another time in history. The author described this virtue as the ability to hold back one’s power, even if one has the authority to use it, for the greater good that may not be evident to the one seeking relief. She offered a metaphor to explain: imagine God having two arms, both powerful. While stretching out His right arm to exert power, He at times uses his left arm to pull the other hand back, so as to prevent its strength being wielded.

I shared this insight on the group text. One participant responded that “He cares enough to allow me to struggle and find deeper understanding and connection to His heart.” I’d seen this very thing in my life over and over through the years. The 40 years I’d worked in healthcare seemed to parallel the 40 years the Israelites wandered in the desert. Grumbling and complaining marked each of our respective journeys yet the Lord continued to provide for my needs and those of the Israelites and taught us obedience which resulted in patience, one of the “fruits of the Spirit.”

Over time, patience has become a habit and I rarely express irritation or anger verbally anymore—at least outside the doors of my home! While I had made progress even within my home, I still found it to be the place that triggered my darker angels. Although I was blessed with a good and loving husband, his switch to working from home due to quarantine required an unexpected adjustment to being together 24 hours a day.

As the weeks together wore on, I found myself once again feeling like a volcano about to erupt. I tried to suppress it, but when for what seemed like the hundredth time Dan knocked a full glass of tea, ice cubes and all, onto the end table, I exploded and ran to grab towel. When I later apologized, I remembered what my husband told a representative from the Big Sisters organization who had called for a spousal referral to determine my suitability as a volunteer. In response to my curiosity about the content of their lengthy conversation he replied, “I said lots of nice things about you. They did ask me if I thought you were a patient person. I told them you are very patient…with everyone but me!” As we chuckled together, both recognizing the truth in his statement, I realized that in the area of patience, God isn’t finished with me yet.

Since retiring, I had adopted a routine of walking in the neighborhood each morning. The exercise kept my thoughts focused as I poured out my heart to the Lord each day. I confessed my impatience, asked forgiveness, listed my husband’s good qualities, and thanked God for him. What I couldn’t seem to do was exercise forbearance! I obviously wasn’t exhibiting the dictionary’s definition of “patient self-control, restraint and tolerance!” One morning, after another frustrating day of my husband working from home, I laid it all out as I prayed. “Lord, I have tried every way I know how to pray about this. I surrender to Your work in my life; make me a truly patient person with everyone, even my husband. I’ve done what I can; now I ask You to do in me what I cannot do in myself.”

As the day ended, I happened to glance at the stack of devotionals on the end table. One of the books maybe sixth or seventh from the top caught my eye. I hadn’t opened it in some time, and didn’t even remember what it was titled. Still, I was drawn to it. It was called, “Biblical Homilies,” by Karl Rahner, a noted German theologian. I opened the volume to where a bookmark lay and laughed at the title on the page: “If You Can Put Up With Him, So Can I.”

Fr. Rahner cited 1 Peter 3: 8-9: “Finally, all of you be of one mind, sympathetic, loving toward one another, compassionate, humble. Do not return evil for evil, or insult for insult; but, on the contrary, a blessing, because to this you were called, that you might inherit a blessing.” I read the sermon that followed:

“This harmony and concord, then, is interpreted to mean that we must be united in prayer. No doubt the letter of St. Peter refers to a general disposition to get on with people.” This idea is obvious enough. We know only too well what a trial we are to each other.” (I paused…how did Fr. Rahner know what was going on in my house?!) “We are so different from one another: we have had different experiences, we are of different temperaments, of different origins, we come from different families, we have different talents and different jobs to do—small wonder if it is difficult for us all to be of one mind. We have different views and we understand each other imperfectly. And being so very different from other people we well may grate on them, unconsciously weary them with what we are, what we think, what we do, what we feel. Mutual harmony and comprehension, being of one mind, is difficult for us. Now we can only live together and bear with each other, bear one another’s burdens, if we do our best to be of one mind, if we are self-effacing and self-possessed, if we can hold our tongue even when we are right,” (now I was sure this priest had been peering at me through the window these last weeks!) “if we can let the other man be himself and give him his due, if we refrain from rash judgment and are patient.” (There was that word again!) “Then it becomes possible, at least in a rough and ready way, to be of one mind. We may not achieve empathy together, but we can be of one mind in Christian forbearance,” (FORBEARANCE!!! The word I never examined or considered until a week or so ago!) “each bearing the other’s burden. This means that I bear the burden the other man is to me simply by being himself, because I know I am a burden to him simply by being myself.”

I already knew I couldn’t change anyone but myself, and that didn’t seem to be going so well either! Seeing it spelled out so clearly, as given, brought the pieces together. Dan always worked hard to show me he loved me, despite my frailty. He lived the law of love for me. I looked online to find references to “forbearance” in scripture. Turns out, there were different translations of the word, based on the culture and time when each was compiled—Long-suffering, patience that endures, great-heartedness, even “developing a willingness to stick with things”. My response toward Dan felt like “long-suffering,” while his toward me looked much more like “great-heartedness.” We had found very different ways to incarnate the same virtue.

I remembered the definition of forbearance I’d heard in the bible-study video: the ability to hold back one’s power, even if one has the authority to use it, for the greater good that may not be evident to the one seeking relief. It was the same lesson I’d learned through years of practicing physical therapy—calm responses made greater difference over time. Without taking time to comprehend what was driving a patient’s resistance to treatment, there would be no progress. Once they knew I understood them, my patients’ transformation would begin. Their progress was well worth my extra effort.

I saw now that God was asking me to hold back my power–whether my tongue or my thoughts–for the greater good of our marriage. I had been “seeking relief;” but couldn’t see how it would come. With this realization, quarantine changed my life—by bearing the burden of the one to whom I had promised to be true, in good times and in bad, to love and honor all the days of my life, just as he did for me. How would I practice forbearance? Glancing at a picture of my husband, I knew: the example was right before my eyes.