Encounter

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.

During the 14th century Siena’s magistrates had sentenced two hardened criminals to a brutal public death. They were driven about town in a cart while executioners tore at their bodies with red-hot pincers. The condemned men showed no trace of remorse for their crimes and spat curses and blasphemies at the people who lined the streets. They had refused to speak with the priests who had offered to prepare them for death.

Catherine of Siena happened to be visiting a friend who lived on one of the roads the cart had to travel. While she stood at the window observing the terrible scene, Catherine was moved by compassion. In her mind’s eye, she saw a mob of demons waiting to punish the condemned men even more sadistically in hell.

Immediately, she began to pray for the two unfortunates. “My most merciful Lord,” she said with her characteristic frankness, “why do you show such contempt for your own creatures? Why are you letting them suffer such torture now? And even more vicious torture by these hellish spirits?”

Catherine never beat around the bush, even in conversations with God.

To the amazement of all, both criminals suddenly stopped shouting curses and cried out for a priest. They wept and confessed their sins to him. The crucified Christ, they claimed, had appeared to them urging repentance and offering forgiveness. They told the crowd that they expected to be with Christ in Heaven, and then they submitted peacefully to their execution. This miraculous turn of events mystified the whole town, but Catherine’s close friends knew that she had intervened in some way. For many days after the dramatic conversions, Saint Catherine of Siena was heard to say, “Thank you, Lord, for saving them from a second prison.”

God’s merciful loves waits for us to turn back to Him. No matter how grave our sins, He longs to embrace us and draw us into His everlasting peace. Would you say ‘yes’ to His call today by making a good confession with a truly repentant heart? Surely, the Kingdom of God belongs to you!

Fear can paralyze us. Fear about family matters. Fear about health. Fear about career. Fear about the future. Many of us carry around such fears. One day I felt so full of fears that I could feel them weighing me down. My jaws felt tight, my throat felt dry, and I could feel my entire body tense up. I felt helpless, as if the challenges that lay ahead of me were an enormous mountain blocking my way forward.

“LORD, HELP ME!” I shouted from the depths of my heart. In my distress, I sobbed out all my fears to the Lord. In answer the word, “Remember” resonated through me. I hunted around for a pen and paper to write down the words pouring out of me, one after another: Remember the miraculous way the Lord God Almighty granted you your first job.

Remember the time you called out to the Lord for help, and He responded immediately.

Remember the beauty of His creation that surrounds you everywhere. The floodgates opened up. Every memory etched gratitude to the Lord deeper into my heart for His never-ending faithfulness and goodness. And I continued to write. Remember how the Lord answered your prayers and granted you virtuous friendships.

Remember how He brought the right people into your life when you needed them most.

Remember. Remember. Remember the faithfulness of the Lord, Sherin! The more I wrote, the more I recalled His faithfulness and presence in my life. After writing three pages worth of these memories, I paused and reread all that I had written. I realized how quickly I had forgotten His steadfast love for me when I was faced with new challenges.

Filled with deep gratitude, I wanted to hold onto these memories of His faithfulness. So, I grabbed my cell phone and took photos of the pages I had filled and I set it as the home screen on my phone. Every time I picked up my phone throughout the day, I was reminded yet again of His faithfulness. Doing so brought a sense of peace and reassurance that no problem is too big for my Lord and my God. This greater trust in the Lord induced a state of calmness and stillness as I went about my daily tasks.

The Voice Message

 Two or three days later, I unexpectedly received a voice message from a good friend who had no idea of my recent prayer experience. He mentioned an old Christmas card that I had written to him six years ago and pointed out a single line I had written in that card. “The Lord Remembers. Daniel 14: 38”. The Lord remembers? What is my friend talking about? I was clueless. I went straight to the source—my Bible, quickly flipping through the pages to Daniel 14:38. “And Daniel said, ‘You have remembered me, O God; and have not forsaken those who love you.” Daniel 14:38

The timing and content of my friend’s message left me speechless. In the depths of my heart, I felt as if the Lord had responded to me through my friend’s voice message. The message was clear. My Lord remembers me too, just as I try my best to remember Him and His faithfulness.

The pain was excruciating but I still held on to this anchor of hope and I did experience a miracle!

I was 40 years old when I was diagnosed with Charcot- Marie-Tooth Disease (CMT), an inherited progressive peripheral neuropathy (damage to the peripheral nervous system). I finally knew why I always dreaded going to my PE class at school, why I fell so often, why I was so slow. I always had CMT; I just didn’t know it. By the time I was referred to a neurologist, the muscles in my legs had begun to atrophy, and I couldn’t climb steps without pulling myself up.

The relief of having an answer was clouded by concern about what the future would hold. Would I end up in a wheelchair? Would I lose the use of my hands? Would I be able to care for myself? With the diagnosis, darkness came over me. I learned there is no treatment, no cure. What I heard between the lines was, ‘there is no hope’. But little by little, like the morning sun peeking through the blinds, the light of hope gently woke me from the stupor of grief, like a miracle of hope. I realized nothing had changed; I was still the same. I grabbed on to the hope that the progression would continue to be slow, giving me time to adjust. And it did…until it did not.

I experienced a slow, gradual progression of the disease for four years, but then, one summer, it suddenly got worse. Tests confirmed that my condition had inexplicably progressed. When we went out, I had to be in a wheelchair. Even at home, there was little I could do. I couldn’t stand up for more than a couple of minutes at a time. I couldn’t use my hands to open jars or to cut or chop. Even sitting up for more than a few minutes was difficult. The level of pain and weakness forced me to spend most of my time in bed. I was filled with enormous grief as I dealt with the reality of losing the ability to care for myself and for my family. Yet, I had an extraordinary grace during that time.

I was able to attend Daily Mass. And, during those drives, I began a new habit…I prayed the Rosary in the car. For some time, I had wanted to pray the Rosary daily, but I could not get into a routine and make it last. These daily drives fixed that. It was a time of great struggle and pain but also a time of great grace. I found myself devouring Catholic books and stories of the lives of the Saints.

One day, doing research for a talk on the Rosary, I came upon the story of Venerable Fr. Patrick Peyton, C.S.C., who was healed from tuberculosis after asking Mary for her intercession. He spent the rest of his life promoting family prayer and the Rosary. I watched clips on YouTube about these massive rosary rallies he would hold…sometimes, over one million people would show up to pray. I was deeply moved by what I saw, and in a moment of zeal, I asked Mary to heal me too. I promised her that I would promote the Rosary and do rallies and marathons, like Fr. Peyton did. I forgot about this conversation until a few days after I had given my talk.

It was a Monday morning, and I went to Mass as usual, but something was different when I returned home. Rather than going back to bed, I went to the living room and began cleaning up. It was not until my perplexed husband asked me what I was doing that I realized all my pain was gone. I immediately recalled a dream I had the night before: A priest robed in light came to me and administered the Anointing of the Sick. As he traced the Sign of the Cross in my hands with oil, warmth and a deep sense of peace enveloped my whole being. And then I remembered…I had asked Mary to heal me. The miracle of hope did happen and after five months in bed, all my pain was gone. I still have CMT, but I was restored to where I had been five months before.

Since then, I have spent my time in thanksgiving, promoting the Rosary and telling everyone about God’s love. I believe Mary sent this priest to anoint and heal me, though in a different way than what I thought. I didn’t realize it at the time, but when I grabbed on to hope, I was really grabbing on to God. He healed my body, but He also healed my soul. I know He hears me; I know He sees me. I know He loves me, and I am not alone. Ask Him for what you need. He loves you; He sees you…You are not alone.

The very thing that turned me away from the Church brought me back wholeheartedly! This is my side of the story…

Born and raised in Philadelphia, I attended a Catholic school like most of my friends. Our family attended Mass only on Christmas and Easter. I learned about the sacraments in school, but mostly I memorized the correct answers to get them right on a test. I was a good kid. I didn’t struggle with any major sins. My friends teased that I’d probably become a nun because I was such a goodie two-shoes. But I wasn’t connecting well with my faith. And after a bad confession experience in fourth grade, I decided never to return. I turned away from the Church.

After high school I worked as a server at the Olive Garden. One of my coworkers was an incredibly handsome guy named Keith. A talented musician and a strong Christian, Keith invited me to his non-denominational church, and I loved it. We attended together often, but soon Keith accepted a position as a youth pastor in his home state of Iowa. We missed each other terribly, so I followed him. We married in 1996, and everything was perfect: Keith loved his job at the church: the congregation took wonderful care of us, we had three beautiful children, and I loved us being a pastor’s family. We served there and at a handful of other churches for two decades. Ministry had its ups and downs, but we loved it.

The Tipping Point

Then, after 22 years as a pastor, Keith announced one day, “I think God is calling me to quit my job and convert to Catholicism.” I was shocked, even as I learned that he had been privately considering Catholicism for a long time. He had read books about Catholicism and discussed the faith with priests and catholic friends. What he discovered about the Church Fathers, the sacraments, and the papacy had shaken him to his core, but he had kept going. I loved his new excitement, but I wasn’t interested and didn’t think he’d go through with it. There was no way the Keith I knew would convert to the dull and lifeless religion of my upbringing. But the more I noticed Keith light up when he spoke about converting, the more I panicked. The kids were getting older and had grown up in churches they loved; even if we wanted to, we couldn’t make them convert. “God can’t want to divide our home,” I thought…

How could I go back to what meant so little to me as a child, especially since my new Protestant faith kept me fulfilled. I’d need to work through things like Confession—something I never wanted to do again. I secretly hoped this was just a phase Keith would soon get over. The tipping point for Keith came after a Catholic apologetics talk where he felt God speaking directly to him. He came home and said, “That’s it, I’m doing this. I’m converting. I don’t know what we will do for money, but I know that God is calling me to this; we will figure it out.” The next day, he told his church he was resigning. Now I had to decide what to do.

After months of prayer, I ultimately followed Keith to the Catholic Church. I felt it was best for our kids to see their mom follow their dad’s lead in faith, but they decided to stay at their Protestant churches. It was exciting to see Keith so passionate about his conversion, but I had a more challenging time than I thought I would. I cried at every Mass for about three months. Our family had worshipped together for the past 22 years. Now, we were painfully scattered. In addition, I was upset that Keith wasn’t using his gifts for ministry in the Catholic Church. Since God called him to quit his job, I expected there’d be an incredible ministry waiting for him. I believed God had a plan for Keith, but what was it? Keith was content attending Mass and soaking it all in, but I wanted to see God use him in some new way.

A Wonderful Trip

After a few months of attending Mass, I became more open to the faith. I started asking questions and learning why we do what we do. I began opening my heart to the Mass and started loving it. The people in our parish were beautiful examples of what being Catholic is all about. I loved the scripture-filled Mass, the incense, holy water, and sacraments. I loved the devotions, and of course, the Eucharist. Had I learned more about the Eucharist as a child, I couldn’t have walked away so easily.

During the summer after our conversion, a friend invited us to go to Medjugorje. Keith had gone years before and had a wonderful experience. We were both excited to go, especially when we realized we’d be there on the first anniversary of Keith entering the Catholic Church. What a great way to celebrate. I realized that we had become so busy with life, work, and family that perhaps we hadn’t heard from God about the future because we hadn’t taken the time to stop and listen. “Maybe in Medjugorje God will talk to us about his plan for our life,” I thought. The trip was a powerful experience, but I wasn’t hearing God speaking to me about our future. I started getting impatient and frustrated.

Before It’s Too Late

On the last day, we went to Mass, Rosary services, Adoration, and everything else they offered. We didn’t want to miss anything. During Adoration, I prayed, “God, please talk to me. I felt God say, “Go to Confession.” “No God, please speak to me directly. It’s our last night. Please tell me what to do.” He said, “Go to Confession.” I argued with God, “Do you know how many people are in line for confession? I’ll never get in!”

In Medjugorje, Confession is a big deal. Even with dozens of priests hearing Confessions in many languages, the lines can be long. The outdoor Confessions area was swarming with people every time we walked by. “Sorry God, if you had told me this earlier in the week, I would have gone, but I don’t want to miss out on anything during our last night here,” I prayed. Looking back, I am sure God was rolling His eyes.

After Adoration, while waiting for our friends, I looked at the Confession line trying to decide what to do. A friend from our group came over, looked at me, and said one word, “Pizza.” I jumped up and said, “Yes, let’s go.” We had a delightful time, and after I had stuffed myself, it occurred to me that I might have made a big mistake. “Maybe I should have tried to go to Confession,” I thought. “I think God was talking to me, and I disobeyed. Now, what am I going to do? It might be too late.” I was starting to feel guilty.

I asked Greg about my chances to get into Confession. “It’s after 9:00,” he said, “finding a priest still there (especially an English-speaking priest) won’t be easy”. I decided to try. We walked a block to the outdoor Confessions area and found it empty and dark. As we turned the corner, we spotted a priest in the distance sitting beside a sign that said “English.” I couldn’t believe it. As I approached, he said, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

A Message from God

I sat down and started my Confession. “I should tell you,” I said, “I’ve had issues with Confession. All my other Confessions were half-hearted and done out of obligation. I feel like God told me to come here tonight, so I’m going to consider this my first Confession.” Then I spilled my guts. It took a long time. I was crying, and even though I felt that I had confessed my sins to Jesus throughout the years, there was something special about speaking them out loud to a priest. I struggled to get out some of my words, but I did the best I could.

When I finished, he said, “Your sins are forgiven.” Then he said, “I can tell you are genuinely sorry for your sins, but that’s not the only reason you are here. You are here because it is your last night in Medjugorje (I didn’t tell him that!), and you have been frustrated with God for a long time. You have wanted Him to speak to you on this trip, and you feel He hasn’t. (I didn’t tell him that either!)

“Here is God’s message to you,” said the priest. “Be patient, keep doing what you’re doing and trust in Me.’’ I started crying and then laughing because I was so filled with joy. I hugged him and thanked him for waiting for me. I couldn’t wait to tell Keith what the priest told me. We realized there was a reason we were in Medjugorje on Keith’s anniversary of becoming a Catholic. There was a reason God didn’t have Keith do too much during that first year. We needed to be patient and faithful. And shortly after returning, doors began opening for Keith to share his journey into the Catholic faith.

For example, since the Pandemic began, Keith has been live streaming a Rosary every afternoon on YouTube. He’s done it every day for almost two years now, with over 70 countries represented. It’s now referred to as the Rosary Crew. People from all over the world tell Keith that his ministry has helped them. We are extremely grateful. I’ve learned that while we often ask God to speak to us, too often we’ve already decided what we want Him to say. But God loves to surprise us. Isn’t it crazy that Confession, the very thing that turned me away from The Church, is the thing that Jesus used to bring me back wholeheartedly?

Are you asking God for advice but unwilling to hear what He says? Do you have issues with the Church which you need to resolve? Do you need to ask someone for forgiveness? Do you need to surrender to Jesus and start living differently? Whatever your issue, try to let go of your expectations and just listen? Don’t wait any longer. God is speaking to you. Listen.

It was a cold and snowy afternoon several years ago, when I felt like going to Adoration. My own parish didn’t have Perpetual Adoration yet, so I drove to a parish that did. It has a small, very intimate chapel where I loved spending time with Jesus, pouring my heart out to Him.

My hour was almost over when I heard two people talking in the back of the chapel. I was disconcerted and distracted by their insensitivity regarding a homeless man in the narthex, so I decided to leave. My hour was almost over anyway.

As I left, I passed through the narthex where the man was sleeping so soundly that he didn’t even stir when I paused to say a prayer over him. I felt relieved that the doors were unlocked for Adoration so he could find shelter. He appeared to be homeless, but I didn’t know for sure.

What I do know is that I was moved to tears by my concern for this man. I could hardly contain myself as I wandered outside where a statue of the Sacred Heart reminded me of Christ’s loving concern for every person and His abundant mercy. I begged the Lord to tell me what to do. In my heart, I felt the Lord telling me to go to the nearby store and pick up a few necessities for this man. I thanked Him and immediately bought a few things that I thought the man might be able to use.

All the way back to the chapel, I hoped the man would still be there. I really wanted to give him what I had purchased. When I arrived, he was still sleeping. I quietly set the bags down near him, said a prayer, and began walking away. I had almost reached the exit when I heard someone call, “Lady, lady”. I turned around and replied, “Yes”. The man was now awake and approached me, asking if I had left the bags for him. I replied, “Yes, I did.” He thanked me saying how thoughtful that was. No one had ever done that before. I smiled and said, “You’re welcome”. The man was coming closer and I felt as if I was in the presence of Jesus. I felt so much love in my heart. Then he said, “Lady, I will see you in Heaven.” I thought I would burst out crying. His voice was so kind and loving. I was compelled to give him a kiss on the cheek. We said goodbye to each other and went our separate ways.

Outside, I couldn’t stop crying. I cried all the way home. Even now, I am moved to tears when I remember that afternoon. That cold, snowy afternoon, I realized that I had indeed met Jesus in that beautiful man. Now, when I look back, I imagine Jesus saying to me, “It’s Me, Jesus!” with a big smile on His face.

Thank you, Jesus, for reminding me that I can meet you in each person I encounter.

An Exclusive Interview with Antonia Salzano, mother of Blessed Carlo Acutis by Graziano Marcheschi, the Contributing Editor of Shalom Tidings as she speaks from her heart of what it’s being like to be a Saint’s mom.

At age seven he wrote, “My life plan is to be always close to Jesus.”

By the time he was fifteen, he had gone home to the Lord whom he had loved throughout his short life.

In between, is the remarkable story of a remarkably ordinary boy.

Ordinary, because he was not a standout athlete, nor a handsome movie star, nor even a brilliant scholar who finished graduate school when other kids are struggling through junior-high. He was a nice kid, a good kid. Very bright, to be sure: at age nine he read college textbooks to teach himself computer programming. But he did not win awards, nor influence people on Twitter. Few outside his circle knew who he was—an only child, living with his parents in northern Italy, who went to school, played sports, enjoyed his friends, and knew how to handle a joystick.

Un-remarkable but Extraordinary

As a very young child he fell in love with God and from then on, he lived with a singular focus, with a hunger for God that few ever achieve. And by the time he left this world he had made an indelible mark on it. Always a boy on a mission, he wasted no time. When people could not see what he saw, even his own mother, he helped them open their eyes.

Via Zoom, I interviewed his mother, Antonia Salzano, and asked her to explain his hunger for God, which even Pope Francis described as a “precocious hunger”?

“This is a mystery for me,” she said. “But many saints had special relationships with God from an early age, even if their family was not religious.” Carlo’s mother speaks from her heart openly about having attended Mass only three times in her life before Carlo started dragging her there when he was three-and-a-half. The daughter of a publisher, she was influenced by artists, writers, and journalists, not popes or saints. She had no interest in matters of faith and now says she was destined to become a “goat” rather than a “sheep.” But then came this marvelous boy who “always raced ahead—he spoke his first word at three months, started talking at five months, and began writing at age four.” And in matters of faith, he was ahead even of most adults.

At age three, he began asking questions his mother could not answer—lots of questions about the Sacraments, the Holy Trinity, Original Sin, the Resurrection. “This created a struggle in me,” Antonia said, “because I myself was as ignorant as a child of three.” His Polish nanny was better able to answer Carlo’s questions and spoke with him often about matters of faith. But his mother’s inability to answer his questions, she said, “diminished my authority as a parent.” Carlo wanted to engage in devotions she had never practiced—honoring the saints, putting flowers before the Blessed Virgin, spending hours in church before the cross and tabernacle.” She was at a loss about how to deal with her son’s precocious spirituality.

The beginning of a Journey

The unexpected death of her father from a heart attack led Antonia to start asking her own questions about life after death. Then, Father Ilio, an elderly holy priest known as the Padre Pio of Bologna, whom she met through a friend, set her on a journey of faith on which Carlo would become her primary guide. After telling her all the sins of her life before she confessed them, Father Ilio prophesied that Carlo had a special mission that would be of great importance for the Church.

Eventually, she began studying Theology, but it is Carlo whom she credits with her “conversion,” calling him “her savior.” Because of Carlo, she came to recognize the miracle that occurs at each Holy Mass. “Through Carlo I understood that the bread and wine become the real presence of God among us. This was a fantastic discovery for me,” she said. His love of God and appreciation of the Eucharist was not something young Carlo kept to himself. “The specialness of Carlo was to be a witness,” she said, “…always happy, always smiling, never sad. ‘Sadness is looking in toward the self;’ Carlo would say, ‘happiness is looking out toward God.’” Carlo saw God in his classmates and everyone he met. “Because he was aware of this presence, he gave witness to this presence,” she said.

Nourished daily by the Eucharist and divine Adoration, Carlo sought out the homeless, bringing them blankets and food. He defended classmates who were bullied and helped those who needed homework assistance. His one goal was “to speak about God and help others get closer to God.”

Seize the day!

Perhaps because he sensed his life would be short, Carlo made good use of time. “When Jesus came,” Antonia commented, “he showed us how not to waste time. Each second of his life was glorification of God.” Carlo understood this well and emphasized the importance of living in the now. “Carpe diem! (Seize the day!),” he urged, “because every minute wasted is one less minute to glorify God.” That’s why this teenager limited himself to but one hour of video games per week!

The attraction that many who read about him instantly feel toward Carlo characterized his whole life. “Since he was a young boy, people were naturally attracted to him—not because he was a blue-eyed fair-haired child, but because of what was inside,” said his mother. “He had a way to connect with people that was extraordinary.”

Even in school he was beloved. “The Jesuit fathers noticed this,” she said. His classmates were competitive kids from the upper classes, focused on achievement and success. “Naturally, there is lots of jealousy between classmates, but with Carlo none of that happened. He melted those things like magic; with his smile and purity of heart he conquered everyone. He had the ability to enflame the hearts of people, to turn their cold hearts warm.”

“His secret was Jesus. He was so full of Jesus—daily Mass, Adoration before or after mass, devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary—that he lived his life with Jesus, for Jesus, and in Jesus.

A Foretaste of Heaven

“Carlo genuinely felt God’s presence in his life,” said his mother, “and this completely changed the way people looked at him. They understood there was something special here.”

Strangers, teachers, classmates, a holy priest, all recognized something unique in this boy. And that uniqueness was most evident in his love of the Eucharist. “The more we receive the Eucharist,” he said, “the more we will become like Jesus, so that on earth we will have a foretaste of Heaven.” All his life he looked toward Heaven and the Eucharist was his “highway to Heaven… the most supernatural thing we have,” he would say. From Carlo, Antonia learned that the Eucharist is spiritual nourishment that helps increase our capacity to love God and neighbor—and grow in holiness. Carlo used to say “when we face the Sun we get a tan, but when we stand before Jesus in the Eucharist we become saints.”

One of Carlo’s best known accomplishments is his website chronicling Eucharistic miracles throughout history. An exhibit developed from the website continues to travel the world from Europe to Japan, from the US to China. Besides the amazing number of visitors to the exhibit, numerous miracles have been documented, though none as significant as the many it has brought back to the Sacraments and the Eucharist.

Process of Subtraction

Carlo is beatified and his canonization is assured, pending the authentication of a second miracle. But Antonia is quick to point out that Carlo will not be canonized because of miracles but because of his Holy life. Holiness is determined by the witness of one’s life, by how well they lived the virtues—faith, hope, charity, prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude. “Living the virtues heroically”—which the Catechism of the Catholic Church defines as ‘a habitual and firm disposition to do the good’—is what makes one a saint.”

And that’s exactly what Carlo strove to do. He tended to talk too much, so he made an effort to talk less. If he noticed himself overindulging, he’d strive to eat less. Nightly, he examined his conscience about his treatment of friends, teachers, parents. “He understood,” his mother said, “that conversion is not a process of addition, but of subtraction.” A profound insight for one so young. And so Carlo worked even to eliminate from his life every trace of venial sin. “Not I, but God,” he would say. “There needs to be less of me so I can leave more room for God.”

This effort made him aware that the greatest battle is with ourselves. One of his best known quotes asks, “What does it matter if you win a thousand battles if you cannot win against your own corrupt passions?” This effort “to overcome the defects that make us spiritually weak,” observed Antonia, “is the heart of holiness.” Young as he was, Carlo knew sanctity lies “in our efforts to resist the corrupt instincts we have inside us because of Original Sin.”

A Chilling Insight

Of course, losing her only child was a great cross for Antonia. But fortunately, by the time he died, she had already found her way back to her faith and had learned that “death is a passage to true life.” Despite the blow of knowing she would lose Carlo, during his time in the hospital the words that echoed inside her were those from the Book of Job: “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” (Job 1:21).

After his death, Antonia discovered a video Carlo had made of himself on his computer. Though he knew nothing of his leukemia at the time, in the video he says that when his weight goes down to seventy kilos, he will die. Somehow, he knew. Yet, he is smiling and looking at the sky with his arms upraised. In the hospital, his joy and peacefulness belied a chilling insight: “Remember,” he told his mother, “I won’t leave this hospital alive, but I will give you many, many signs.”

And signs he has given—a woman who prayed to Carlo at his funeral was healed of breast cancer without any chemotherapy. A 44-year-old woman who had never had a child prayed at the funeral and one month later was pregnant. Many conversions have occurred, but perhaps the most special miracle “is the one for the mother,” says Antonia. For years after Carlo’s birth Antonia had tried to conceive other children but to no avail. After his death, Carlo came to her in a dream telling her she would become a mother again. At age 44, on the fourth anniversary of his death, she gave birth to twins—Francesca and Michele. Like their brother, both attend Mass daily and pray the Rosary, and hope one day to help further their brother’s mission.

When his doctors asked if he was in pain, Carlo replied that “there are people who suffer much more than me. I offer my suffering for the Lord, the Pope (Benedict XVI), and the Church.” Carlo died just three days after his diagnosis. With his last words, Carlo professed that “I die happy because I didn’t spend any minutes of my life in things God doesn’t love.”

Naturally, Antonia misses her son. “I feel Carlo’s absence,” she said, “but in some ways I feel Carlo much more present than before. I feel him in a special way—spiritually. And I feel also his inspiration. I see the fruit his example is bringing to young people. This is a big consolation for me. Through Carlo, God is creating a masterpiece and this is very important, especially in these dark times when people’s faith is so weak, and God seems to be unnecessary in our lives. I think Carlo is doing a very good job.”

I was carrying those wounds from the past which affected me deeply. Sudden outbursts of anger and addiction to sinful habits led me down the pit until He set me free…

When I went to high school in Chicago, there was a lot of racial tension. I belong to a minority group and during my time in high school, I often faced and dealt with discrimination. During those 4 years, I was harassed verbally, and I struggled emotionally because of the teasing and ridicule. I was the type of person who would not retaliate when I faced ridicule, but I took all the negative feelings from this verbal and physical harassment and buried it deep in my heart.

However, keeping all of that negativity inside affected me deeply. My interactions with my parents, brothers, and other relatives suffered. Sometimes I would have sudden outbursts of anger and lash out to hurt them with spiteful, cruel words. I was addicted to many sinful habits.

Although I knew that these were evil and desired to be released from them, I struggled in vain to free myself. I continued to fall into the same sinful habits and couldn’t control my temper. At one family gathering, I felt so angry that I got into a fight with my youngest brother. I became afraid of myself, realizing that I needed to do something about this hate and anger lying deep within me.

What Captivated Me?

By the Grace of God, during my freshman year in high school, I attended a youth Retreat. During this Retreat, I saw young people who were so excited about God that their deep love for Him shone joyfully on their faces. For the first time in my life, I met young people who felt unintimidated in talking about God or sharing their faith experiences. And it really captivated me.

I had grown up in a good Catholic family and thought that I knew all about God, but it remained at the intellectual level and never transferred to my heart. However at this Retreat, I saw young people who really loved living their faith and were so happy. Despite the fact that my friends and I would sometimes burst out laughing because we found what they were doing comical, the young people who were ministering to us were not deterred in any way. They were so excited to be there and so passionate about their faith that I really longed to have what they had, to be full of joy, to be happy and to love life. So, I prayed, “Lord I want to be like that, I want that.

After that Retreat, I had the opportunity to attend multiple Retreats. I would go at least 1 or 2 times a year and also began to be active in youth ministry. I got an opportunity to be part of the youth service team for the Catholic Charismatic Renewal in Chicago and I worked in youth ministry with other adults. It was a wonderful time for me.

Resisting Him

I began to grow in my faith and, at the same time, share my faith with others.

But even as I continued in ministry, I still struggled sometimes with sinful habits and outbursts of anger. This really depressed me because I was trying to share the good news of Christ with others, but my own sins were holding me back and I still couldn’t forgive the people who had hurt me. I desperately wanted freedom from this slavery of sin.

As I cried out to God in desperation, I felt the Lord telling me “Jenson, I want to heal you. I want to set you free from this negativity lying deep within your heart, but to do that, I need to walk with you into each and every one of those painful situations and touch those painful memories with My hand that is bathed in My blood that was shed for you at Calvary.” I was afraid and responded timorously, “Lord, I do not want to revisit those negative experiences. It is too painful for me.” So I kept resisting the Lord even though he was ready to set me free. All through high school—I continued to experience painful situations, the Lord kept telling me He wants to set me free, He wanted to heal me, but I kept resisting Him. I continued to work in youth ministry but I was becoming more discouraged because I was not able to find lasting happiness.

Revisiting the Pains

After high school, I went to a Catholic university in Chicago. It was a wonderful environment because, for the first time in my life, I did not face any discrimination. People accepted me for who I was. I began to desire very strongly that when I received the joy of the Lord it would last into the next day or week. To my disappointment, I kept falling back into habitual sin and outbursts of anger. I called out to the Lord, saying, “Something has to change. I want to be free; I want to be rid of my past because it is holding me captive.” And the Lord kept telling me, “I want to do that for you, but you have to give Me permission to do that one thing—to set me free.” But I replied, “No way!” I don’t want to ever revisit those years of high school which were so painful.

One day, at the end of a Retreat, one of the adults working with me in youth ministry (who knew all about my struggles and my past) came to me saying, “Jenson, I want you to do something for me. I want you to put both your hands on my shoulders. I want you to look at me in the eyes and I want you to see one of those people who hurt you in high school. I want you to tell this person what he or she did to you, and then I want you to say, ‘I forgive you.” And for the first time in my life, I did not resist.

I did not have the power to resist. I said, “I am ready now. I want to go through with it.” And so one by one I began to do this. Looking at my friend, I did not see her face. In my imagination, I delved into my memory to find and picture each of the people who had hurt me in high school. I told each of them what he or she had done to me, and then I said, “I forgive you.” As I began to do this, I began to cry uncontrollably. Each time I spoke the words of forgiveness, “I forgive you for what you did to me”, I felt something heavy lifted out of me.

River of Love

It was a long night of prayer, but it was the most powerful healing experience of my life. As the weight of this pain was lifted from me by each act of forgiveness, I felt more and more light-hearted. One of my friends, who resembled Jesus with his long hair, came up close to me as the prayer ended. I felt so light that I just floated into his hands. As he held me there, I felt as if Jesus was holding me close to His Heart, embracing me. My heart felt empty of the burden it had been carrying. Into that emptiness, I suddenly felt the love of God flowing like a river into my heart, filling me with peace, love and joy. I just enjoyed the moment, relishing the peace I had been craving for so long. I felt sure that I was finally completely free of the burden of sin, guilt and shame that had been crushing me. The Lord had completely uprooted all that negative stuff and taken it away from me. He set me free.

Why did this happen? Because I had reached a point of desperation where I cried out to the Lord for help to escape a lifestyle of sin, and then submitted to His remedy. The Lord had said, “I want to set you free. I am the wounded Healer. I love you, I laid down my life for you.” He wanted to walk with me into each of my painful experiences, share in my pain and I bring His healing touch to my wounds. When I finally allowed Him to do that, Jesus did not let me walk by myself. He walked beside me, taking me back to each and every painful situation, helping me to describe what happened to the person who hurt me and truly forgive them. He gave me the grace to do that, and permanently shed the heavy burden I had been carrying.

He Waits For You

God wants to heal us permanently and make us whole. He does not do partial work on us. If we trust in Him, He will finish the work that He began and heal us completely. Because He is the wounded healer, He loves us so much that He shares our pain.

The Lord does not abandon us even for a second; He stays with us through all our painful moments and walks beside us. After I allowed the Lord to lift my burden, and to set me free, I could continue my life free of the sinful habits that had enslaved me. Every day, I felt the joy of the Lord in my heart and nobody or nothing could take that joy away from me.

Even when I committed sin and fell away from God, I was able to come back immediately through the sacrament of Confession. Receiving the graces of the sacrament strengthened my commitment to go to confession frequently. The Lord was with me and I would not allow myself to slip away from Him again.

I invite each one of you who has experienced hurt through your own sins, or the sins of others, to open your heart to Jesus. He is the wounded healer. He can make you whole again. He can restore you through His healing power. He can set you free. All you have to do is say ‘Yes’ to Him. If you trust Him and give Him permission to heal you, you will receive lasting grace and joy. If there is anybody in your life that you need to forgive, I encourage you to say the words of forgiveness; because the act of forgiveness will allow the healing grace of God to complete you and bring fulfillment in your life.

After nearly ten and a half years of marriage, Susan Skinner’s prayer was finally answered. Read how she witnessed a true miracle

When my husband and I married, he was not Catholic. He had been raised attending Baptist and Presbyterian churches, but his love for Jesus and for me, and the way we complemented each other as a couple drew us together. Shortly after we married, he converted to Catholicism. He told me that he knew I would never join another church, but we needed to go to church together, so it made sense to him that he join me in the Catholic Church. He believed in the Eucharist and together we raised our family as Catholics.

A Story within a Story

During this time period, though, I sometimes referred to him as a “Baplic,” because he had some issues with Catholic teaching, and truly did not understand our honor of Mary. I considered myself the spiritual head of our household, in that I got everyone up for Mass, and I did most instruction of the children. I felt blessed that we all went to church together and that he supported raising our children Catholic, but I longed for him to be the leader, and I begged for Mary’s intercession. One day, as we discussed spiritual things, the topic of Mary came up. I was struggling to explain to him about Mary when I remembered a video by Father Stephen Scheier that a friend had recommended. He relates his near-death experience, and how he felt that Mary saved him. That video had a powerful impact on my husband, opening his mind to the idea that there was a lot more to Mary than he had ever considered. The sequence of events that happened next was something of a small miracle. He has decided to tell his story in his own words:

I’m generally a reserved person, not inclined to share private affairs outside of a very small circle of friends. However, I’ve come to feel that my story could offer inspiration to others, and that if one soul is moved to say, or keep saying the Rosary as a result, then this is well worth the effort. 

In January of 2011, I decided to learn how to say the Rosary. Using a cheat-sheet with all the mysteries and prayers, I said my first five-decade Rosary.

One evening, Susan mentioned that many people who are new to the Rosary are frequently granted one of their petitions and one shouldn’t be afraid to ask for something big. I was amused, but honestly didn’t give it a lot of thought. Anyway, most of my petitions were not for specific items that could be noticeably granted. They were for more general things, such as keeping my family safe from harm and evil, helping the children to do well in school, etc.

A few days later, I learned that my employer was giving away luxury-box tickets for the Ringling Brothers Circus to some lucky employees. Thinking that this would be a great treat for my young boys, I entered my name, in competition with many other entries for the Friday and Saturday events.

That night, I made my usual Rosary petitions and Susan made hers. After the final Sign of the Cross, we put our rosaries away, and got up to leave when I stopped and said, “Oh yeah, one more thing…it would be really nice if I could win those tickets to the circus. The Saturday show would be great. Amen.”The next afternoon, I received an email announcing that I had won four tickets to the Saturday circus event. I sat there in disbelief for a few moments and re-read the message. It felt like Mary was saying, “Did you ask for something? Boom! Here you go.” I was stunned and thrilled at the same time. Now, I’m a logical finance guy and thought to myself that these things happen. My chances were perhaps 1-2%, and somebody had to win. It wasn’t like it was the lottery. However, not only had I won, but it was for the Saturday show that I had requested. To me, it was more than a chance. Mary had my attention.

Beatific Vision

Before winning the tickets, I said the Rosary most days, but not every day. Afterwards, I committed myself to five decades daily, continuing to read and learn about Mary and the Rosary, especially from Saint Louis Marie de Montfort. I also decided to do the five first Saturdays encouraged by Our Lady of Fatima.

This devotion entails making reparations for the sins against the Immaculate Heart of Mary by saying the Rosary, going to Confession, receiving Communion at Mass, and praying in the presence of Jesus for at least 15 minutes every first Saturday of the month for five consecutive months.

On the first Saturday, I went to church for Confession before Mass. Now, this was only my third Confession ever, but I approached this one with much more thought and seriousness. I really dug deep, painfully confessing sins even and especially from my distant past. After receiving absolution for my sins, I felt a huge burden lifted from my soul. In reparation for sins against Mary’s Immaculate Heart, I plunged my heart into fulfilling all the obligations. It had been difficult—especially the Confession—but it felt good. 

That night, I was suddenly awakened from sleep by intense warmth that moved in a wave through my whole body. Then, in the pitch-black room, before I could even try to process what was happening, an image appeared in my closed eyes—similar to the way you might stare briefly at a brightly-lit object and then see the object’s shape imprinted in light under your eyelids. It began as a point of light that expanded quickly into the shape of a rose. The image remained for about 3 seconds, and it immediately expanded again into a new image of many smaller roses like a bouquet in the shape of a heart and then expanded into the final image of roses linked together as a crown. 

When it was over, I opened my eyes in the dark room and sat up, amazed and trying to process what had just happened. Part of my logical brain wants to rationalize this as some natural, dream-induced occurrence. But I’ve never encountered anything remotely like it in my life before or since, and it happened after the first of the five Saturdays. As I see it, this was Mary’s special acknowledgement and encouragement to continue. The first rose clearly represented the Rosary. I really didn’t comprehend the full significance of the last two images at the time, but upon later reflection, they are related to Her Immaculate Heart.

This is my husband’s story. And just like that, after ten and a half years of marriage, my prayer had been answered. My husband became the spiritual leader in my household. This was truly a miracle in my midst. Being the human that I am, I was very grateful, but also a little spiritually jealous. I had prayed the Rosary on and off for years, but he was the one to get a “vision.” I knew that was selfish so I quickly overcame that, watching him transform into a new person. He is still the same man I married, but he is a softer, gentler, more generous person whose heart changed as he became involved in activities at church. We are still on this journey together, and have a long way to go, but I am forever grateful to Mary, the Mother of God, for interceding in our lives.

Until then going to church was just to keep my parents happy. I didn’t expect that there was someone there who loved me, even when I didn’t care

I was born into a Catholic family in India, so, for me, growing up Catholic was more because of tradition than faith. Going to Sunday Mass and receiving Holy Communion had become routine, and I never really had a relationship with Jesus. I didn’t take my faith seriously. It was more about keeping my parents happy, so for their sake I went to church.

When I moved to England at the impressionable age of 13, my life went through a complete upheaval. In the midst of this culture shock, I was bullied at school. That was so traumatizing that I felt like trash. I couldn’t understand what was happening, and I felt so depressed that I began to think, “Why am I alive?”

I threw myself into my study, and my grades improved so that I was able to study pharmacy at Birmingham University. I was surprised when I met a group of young people who accepted me the way I was for the first time in my life. Although that felt great, it was also very strange because they would gather to pray and I wasn’t used to that. When they were praising God, I thought that was odd because I didn’t have a relationship with Christ. 

They belonged to an international Catholic charismatic movement for youth called Jesus Youth. Although I couldn’t understand them, I kept going because I felt so accepted and decided to go with them to a conference called “Dare to Go”. During an inner healing session, all the memories of what had happened to me in the past came flooding in. I couldn’t stop crying, but then I felt the love of a Father embracing me and understood that Jesus had been carrying me all that time.

I finally realized that somebody loved me for who I was, and didn’t judge me. He had always been there, even when I did not know Him, even when I did not love Him back. So, I started to spend more time with them and other like-minded people. I asked God how I could serve Him and He put the right people in my path. I discovered that He had given me a musical gift–to sing and glorify Him through music and share His love with others through music. The more I sing for him, the more I praise and glorify God through my voice, the more I am attracted and drawn towards Christ. What keeps me going and what keeps me attached to Christ is His unconditional love. 

However, I wasn’t a paragon of perfection. Like many young people I decided to try out the things that everyone else seemed to enjoy. Alcohol helped me fit in with that crowd, but even when I sidetracked, God stayed with me to redirect my steps. He put certain people in my life to gently nudge me back to Him. He’s a very gentle God. He never pushed me, or dragged me. He waited patiently and gave me countless opportunities, again and again, to come back to Him, so I could experience His love.

The more I got to know Christ, the more I recognized how weak I was. Every day He revealed something about myself that I had never realized. My flaws and struggles became an opportunity to grow closer to Him, whereas I felt that if I shared my weaknesses with somebody else, they would probably reject me, and judge me. But I can keep going to Him again and again in Adoration or Mass, give my weakness to Him and ask Him to take it from me. He willingly accepts the burden. He polishes me day by day like a treasured jewel. I can’t stop myself from being drawn towards His love.

Our relationship has become so close that I cannot reject Him even if I wanted to, and if I do reject Him by falling again into sin, the love of God raises me up again. Every time I fall He says, “It’s okay” and that is what keeps me connected to Him, that’s what keeps me attached. When I go to Mass, I have a tangible experience of meeting Christ in the Eucharist. Every time I receive Him, it moves me to tears because I’m receiving the holiest of holies into my frail, sinful body and that strengthens me day by day.

When I began journeying with Christ and experiencing Him in a personal way, I started realizing that it doesn’t matter what is happening around me—how much money I have or how many friends I have. Before I used to seek for people’s approval and the moment they rejected me my happiness was gone. But with Christ, it doesn’t matter if people give you approval or not. He says, “I have chosen you” and when I hear those words, I feel like I have achieved everything. It brings me a lot of happiness, joy and peace to me. I encourage you to give Jesus an opportunity to make a difference in your life. He stands knocking at the door, but He will never force it open, you are invited to open it to Him. You will never regret it if you do. You would be opening the door to a multitude of good things. The blessings He will shower upon you and the things you can achieve with His help are never-ending. Nothing is impossible for Him. He has given me the courage to say yes to things I could never have imagined.

Christ gave me the strength to take a year out of my usual activities to do mission work with Jesus Youth. I distinctly heard Him say, “Shelina I want you to take this one year. I will show you how much more you can achieve through Me”. I was always so anxious about traveling, meeting new people, or spending time with people that I didn’t know. With Him by my side, I could step out of my comfort zone to do those very things, and enjoy it.

That incessant, self-conscious fear that people would judge me has disappeared because my life now has a purpose–to share Christ with others. There is no greater gift I could give to anyone and He deserves our love. If He left the 99 and came after me, I’m sure that He’s already seeking you, calling you back home.

ARTICLE is based on the testimony shared by Shelina Guedes for the Shalom World program “U-Turn”. To watch the episodes visit: shalomworld.org/show/u-turn