My journey back to the Catholic Church was not straightforward but came unexpectedly through a series of events where the Holy Spirit urged me to reconnect with God and the church.
I was born and raised by two loving parents, my dad was Catholic, and my mom was Baptist. One of my grandmothers, dad’s mom, was a devout Catholic who went to Mass every morning. Grandma Roddy lived in Nebraska, and our family lived in Minnesota, and our whole family looked forward to spending time with her. Grandma Roddy loved to see us, and she gave us a free rein in her home–we would even kick a soccer ball in her hallway, but she didn’t care; she took such joy in seeing us have fun in her home. She would even give up her bedroom so my parents would have a place to sleep, and we kids could connect our video games to the TV in her bedroom. I remember that the church was a significant part of her life. She went to daily Mass and volunteered at her parish; we would accompany her to Sunday Mass as a family. It was not until her passing that I made my way back to the church.
On June 13, (the Feast of St. Anthony) 2010, my grandma Roddy entered into eternal life. I was 26 years old and preparing to finish college and begin my life as a young adult. There were a series of events during her wake, funeral, and burial that really touched me, and that is how I made my way back to the church.
The first prompting from the Holy Spirit, was at the funeral itself when I was sitting in the pew and thought to myself, “What would happen to me tomorrow if I died.” Grandma’s pastor, Father Michael McCabe, made a comment about how he could not guarantee my grandma was in heaven, but if he were a betting man, he knew that the odds were incredible, that she was there.
The second moment was at the rite of committal at the cemetery. I had a moment of intense sadness knowing my grandma was gone, but then there was a sense of peace knowing I would see her again one day. I realized that I needed to make some changes in my life. My uncle Bob, who is a Franciscan friar, and three of his fellow friars stood at grandma’s grave and sang a short hymn in Latin called “The Ultima.” My uncle Bob said the Latin translated as a prayer to the Blessed Virgin Mary, imploring her, “…may we Christ, we thee embrace, Virgin Mother, grant this grace.” The friars traditionally sing this hymn as one of their friars is lowered into his grave.
The last and most impactful event came after we gathered at my grandma’s house. Two of his Franciscan brothers joined us and listened to our stories of grandma. They both had met Grandma Roddy and remembered her fondly. I knew their presence was a great comfort to my friar-uncle, but they also comforted the rest of the family and me. They had been at the wake, the funeral Mass, and the burial. They were so kind and so down-to-earth. Being with them was the tipping point; it was the moment I decided to return to the church.
I returned to St. Louis and began researching how to go back to the church. I wrote Uncle Bob and asked for his help, and he called a few parishes near my home, but it was only when I moved back to Minnesota and my life was a bit more settled that I took action. I spoke to our family friend, Barb York, and asked her to sponsor me. Barb was thrilled to be asked to be my sponsor, and she supported me through the whole RCIA journey. On April 12, 2012, I was newly confirmed and received back into the Catholic Church. Many of my family journeyed from Kansas City, Nebraska and Alabama to be a part of that glorious moment. I am grateful for those events and the people who were a part of them and who led me back to the church. I am so grateful for the support I received from many people through the process, especially my family and Barb.
