Leslie always considered her upbringing to be about as Catholic as you could get. She came from a big Catholic family; she had 3 brothers and 3 sisters for a total of seven. They were homeschooled and went to Mass often more than once a week. Her mom and dad were more or less happily married, and they rarely fought. She never went through any sort of crisis of faith, she claimed that she had a strong desire to believe, and faith came rather easy to her. Like everyone she struggled to live a life free from sin, but she never had any super big struggles with the ones that the world sees as gravely problematic. She had gotten married in her mid-twenties and there hadn’t been any major struggles in the relationship. From time to time, they hit some bumps in the road but nothing terrible.
Yet she had to admit that there seemed to be something missing in her faith. She heard people talk about how close they felt to Jesus and despite all her years of praying nothing seemed to happen for her. She had read that Mother Theresa had 50 years of darkness though, so she didn’t feel like she was anything special. By the time I met her she had settled nicely into a standard rhythm of praying dutifully for no apparent expectation of fulfillment. We had several conversations but the one that stuck out the most centered around her expression that she wasn’t anything special.
I pushed back particularly on this because it flies so clearly in the face of our proclaimed Theology. If a Man is literally willing to be beaten, spit upon and crucified for you it’s hard to say that you are “nothing special.” Specialness is the hallmark of the Good News of Jesus. At first, she was rather put off thinking it made her full of pride but eventually she was convinced and agreed to try some new prayer types. I asked her to close her eyes and imagine she was at the house of the Holy Family in Nazareth without any judgements on what she saw. After a few back-and-forth questions she was able to enter in and she was surprised at what she saw.
She showed up as a girl about 5 years old and was peeking through the window. She saw Mary and Jesus playing on the floor and Joseph in a rocking chair all full of joy and laughing. At first, she felt like an outsider but then St Joseph called out her name and invited her inside. This really struck her for some reason. She could never really put it into words adequately but there was something about his fatherly invitation that spoke to her heart and immediately inspired a confidence in herself that she had never experienced. She went in and said “For the first time I really felt like I was at home” as if she really belonged. This started a new period of the life of faith for her.
Leslie was never able to fully express what happened but that it had happened there was no denying. She suddenly had a much stronger desire to pray and looked forward to her time of prayer each day. She was a better wife, mother and daughter and was just generally happier. Overall, it was a great improvement but at my last discussion with her she still struggled with what had been stopping her from experiencing all this earlier. I tried to explain that understanding wasn’t necessary, but I can only hope that she learned to let this urge to understand go and simply enjoy the gift she had been given.