June 2018

         Growing up, my family never really attended church. Perhaps an occasional Easter service here or there, but we certainly never “belonged” anywhere. My parents would talk to us about being a Christian and I knew that I believed in Jesus. However, beyond the annual viewing of “Jesus Christ Superstar,” I was never introduced to Christian doctrines, though the desire was always there. 

         As I became a teenager, I couldn’t ignore my curiosity any longer. I felt God calling, but I didn’t understand Him and I needed guidance. After talking with a few friends, I discovered a local youth group that was extremely welcoming and jumped right in. 

         Leading into my Freshman year of high school, I signed up for a mission trip with the youth group. I wanted a summer away from secular life and it was exactly what I needed to hear the voice that had been calling me. My faith was stronger than ever and I felt like I had found what I had always been looking for. 

         Fast forward almost a year from that trip and my life was about to change forever. I was hiding between 2 rows of chairs in the school auditorium unable to comprehend what was happening around me. The teachers were telling me to run, but I couldn’t move. I was too scared. You see, I was a student at Columbine High School in 1999. The janitor found a way for us to escape by using himself has a human shield, but I wasn’t about to take that chance. My mind was frozen from all that I had already experienced and I couldn’t process anymore.  Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a man appeared to me. He simply said, “It’s going to be ok” or “you’re going to be ok”; I can’t quite remember anymore. But the simple sentiment gave me a sudden calm and I, along with my friend, got up and ran out. No questions asked. 

         Ever since, I have wondered if the man I remember in my mind as a man who wore a white suit, with white hair and white beard was truly an Angel, or just acting as one to me that day. I often re-read my police report just to confirm that I’m not making this part up; it was seemingly so ordinary at the time. I wish so badly that I had this detail engraved in my head the way that other memories from that day are. I know that I’ll never find a concrete answer, but I do feel comforted in my belief that that man was an Angel. 

         Many of the funerals/services I attended after the shootings were held in Catholic Churches. While I had been to Catholic services before, they had never felt like home to me. Something changed after the shootings; I couldn’t understand the mass, but I felt comforted by it. I followed along as best I could and tried to learn the rituals from afar. I never wanted anyone who belonged to notice that I was fumbling through. Just being there was all I could do at the time.   

         When I met my now husband at 16 years old, I was thrilled to learn that he was Catholic. For 18 years, when we would attend mass it would ease my anxiety to have him by my side. I’d think, maybe he knew enough to cover for the both of us. 

         I confidently had all my children baptized Catholic and, in my heart, I always felt like I was Catholic, too. There was just one problem… I had never even been baptized. Even after feeling called to the church, I spent the better part of two decades just trying to blend in. I felt a great sadness in not being able to fully partake in the service, which meant that we rarely went. 

         This embarrassment and sadness kept me from pursuing RCIA, though I often inquired. I would only share my secret with select friends and while most would listen with a non-judgmental ear, only one really offered encouragement to enroll in RCIA to make a change. 

         This year, I finally listened to my dear friend and made time to participate in the RCIA program. What I thought would be something that was difficult to fit into my busy week actually became my top priority; I rarely missed. My peers were supportive and encouraging, and all of those fears I had of being judged or embarrassed, melted away. It doesn’t matter that I sat in the back pews for all those years, what mattered was that I had taken the steps to move forward NOW. 

         My family is excited for me and I even accepted my First Communion alongside my 8-year-old son. It is an experience I will never forget. My husband supported me as my sponsor and that wonderful friend who initially encouraged me, Nicole, is now my Godmother. Finally, I have that feeling of belonging that I have been looking for since I was a child. I LOVE accepting communion each week and my boys insist on sitting as close to the front row as they can get. I would implore anyone who has ever considered RCIA to give it a try. I am so thrilled that I did and now I can live more fully in God’s presence every day.