A fellow young petty officer in the navy who was assigned to
my paperwork for my first sacraments told me that he rarely knew of anyone
getting what he called “the triple whammy”, which was three sacraments in one
day. Baptism, first Holy Communion, and confirmation. Yet there he was, printing my certificates
for the said sacraments that I was to receive on Easter Sunday in 2006. I was watching him print them in the
religious office at Naval Air Station Corpus Christi, my home at that time in
my life.
I was a young sailor in those days with a Catholic boyfriend
(who was in Guantanamo Bay that year I came into the church) and wanted to
become a Catholic myself. Sometimes when I share that he is the one who first
introduced me to the church, I receive questions such as “oh, so you had to
convert so you could marry him?” or “oh, you converted for Michael?” The
answer to those questions is no, and I can explain by backing up a bit.
My husband Michael and I began dating in September of 2004.
We met on base there in Corpus Christi.
He was assigned to base security, and I was assigned to a helicopter
squadron. He had mentioned that he was
Catholic, but I knew very little of that faith and didn’t give too much thought
to that difference of ours at our start.
We seemed to share similar values, despite the fact that I did not have
a church home. I called myself
non-denominational at that time. Growing
up I had attended different churches, but none too regularly. It was never a top priority and the
21-year-old version of me used to say all the time, “I am spiritual, not
religious.” Yes, I believed in God. I prayed, nearly every night, before I
would go to sleep. I even believed that I was as close to God as I needed to be
(some of my behavior at that time conflicts with that, but more on that is to
be told another day.)
Then, one day, Michael invited me to mass. I had never been
to a Catholic mass before. I didn’t
have a clue what it was all about. So, I
went along. He picked me up from my
barracks room and we went to church together for the first time of what would
be very many. As much as I would like to say it went well that day, it
didn’t. I was confused. It was very different from anything I had
been to before. I was used to attending
a service where there was contemporary worship music for at least half an hour,
followed by a motivational sermon. This
was structured so differently. I told
Michael afterward it seemed “robotic and impersonal.” Oh, I cringe now at my
ignorance. And Michael was offended by
what I had said, of course. It was one of our first real arguments. But that feeling of confusion…it led me to a
curiosity and I wanted to dig deeper in order to gain some understanding of the
mass. So I did. In the admin office where I worked on base I
google searched “the Catholic church.” Amid my web browsing I stumbled upon
Americancatholic.org, and started clicking links and soaking up information I
was receiving from the web. Weeks into
this internet searching, something unexpected happened. I started agreeing with what I was
reading. I remember sitting there,
staring at my computer screen, thinking to myself I believe this. I thought it
was weird at the time, how much I agreed with the teachings I was reading
about. Now I know it was the start to
being called home.
I started looking into the Rite of Christian Initiation of
Adults – RCIA – which is the process for prospective converts to get introduced
to Catholicism. I wanted to learn even more about what I had been so curious about,
and so I jumped in. When I first told
Michael, I’m not sure he took me seriously.
Once he knew I was, he was happy for me.
He couldn’t be too involved, however. He was busy getting ready for
one-year orders to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.
So he wasn’t physically there during my conversion. He was out of the country.
So, there I was, taking weekly classes to learn about a
faith that not one of my friends or family members shared, because it felt
right for some reason that I couldn’t articulate or even understand at the
time. It felt like I was where I was supposed to
be. In mass, I started really paying
attention to the readings, and I believed.
I started really paying attention to the gospel each week, and I
believed. I started really paying
attention to the homilies, and I believed.
I started really paying attention to the consecration, and I believed. There was no doubt. I had
experienced doubt and fear with other big decisions leading up to my
conversion. The Navy, for example. I almost didn’t go to boot camp. It was a big deal, a big life decision. Was it right for me? Now I can say yes, it certainly was. However my 19-year-old self that joined had
her doubts. And now that 22-year-old
girl joining the Catholic Church? Not a
doubt in that mind. I knew I was meant
to become a Catholic. The thing that no
words will suffice in explaining here is that sitting in mass at that little
base chapel in Corpus Christi, I felt truth and grace in a way I had never
experienced. I wanted to love Him more.
I always felt as though I was loved by God, even when I wasn’t in church. In fact, that was an excuse of mine I
frequented - “God loves me even if I’m
not in church.” And of course God loves us regardless. But, for the first time, I wanted to show Him
how I loved Him in return.
On April 16th, 2006, inside Our Lady of Guadalupe
Church onboard NAS Corpus Christi, I joined the Catholic Church. I was the only
adult among about 8-10 kids who were receiving their first communion that
day. We shared the same pew during the
service. If you know me at all, you
probably know that I am not well in front of crowds. I get really nervous if I am the center of
attention. I’ve read at a wedding once –
my legs shook violently the entire time.
That day, however, rather than feel nervous as the eyes of the parish
members were on me as I walked up to the baptismal font, I felt peace. It is surreal to remember it all. At first communion I tasted Jesus for the
first time and was consumed by His truth.
That was the beginning of a journey I am still on, hoping of course to
lead into Heaven.
 |
| Only pics I have of that day. Here I am with my sponsor Florence (assigned by the church to sponsor me) and Fr. Brian Kelly, the base Chaplain assigned to NAS Corpus at that time |
 |
| Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church, NASCC |
So here I am, a decade later. It’s been a busy ten years.
Michael and I were both honorably discharged from the Navy. We married, in our
home parish of St. Elizabeth’s Catholic Church in Pflugerville, Texas. We were blessed with SUPER fertility and have
had six children. I feel like I’ve grown
in my faith and am incredibly grateful for my journey so far.
That truth I have a hard time explaining? It’s a feeling of
peace. Of grace. I feel I’m getting to know Jesus more and
more each passing day and know He is good.
The Catholic Church has made me feel closer to Him. I look at the crucifix and see His love.
It doesn’t matter what is going on in the world. It doesn’t matter what is going on in my own
little world.
Perfect love drives out fear. (1 John 4:18) Oh, yes, it does. I am human.
I mess up. I sin. I fall down, I get up, and I fall down again. I get sad sometimes. I get angry. I get
frustrated, overwhelmed, and fearful. But all of those feelings are washed away
when I fix my eyes on Him. He has
already overcome the world, what else is there to worry about? His love drives out my fear. It’s the truth.
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