OF FAITH – A Three-part Journey: Part One

Preface – In this condensed accounting of true events, God’s conversion of one child starts to become clear. The conversion to Catholicism rings out from a young, unknowing age. May the faith of one small child’s journey into adulthood encourage all who read to realize the need to bring all faiths to the Catholic faith. Even through the current turmoil from within this beautiful church, we need to remain strong and follow the Bible no matter what one’s cross to bear. I am a convert to the Catholic Church, and here is my story. Consider your calling.

Matthew 18:10 “See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.”

Part One – THE FATHER

I knew God, The Father, from a young age. I saw Him looking through my grandmother’s eyes and knew Him through her teaching and praying with me. Her devotion to God through the Presbyterian Church of the Covenant was God first; although she held her family at a close stich sewn tightly into her faith.

Through this humble Presbyterian Church my two brothers and I were baptized, my grandmother was the church organist and secretary/bookkeeper, I took my first communion, was confirmed, and still have the Bible that was given to me by my grandmother with her beautiful handwriting and the Minister’s Blessing. I was with my grandmother almost every weekend at the church, and watched her do the books from her home on many occasions. Without knowing, my bond with God, The Father, was being strengthened.

I questioned my grandmother about a frequent visitor I had had beginning in the second grade at a home where my bothers and I were “latch-key kids.” It was a nice neighborhood and help was not far away from any of the stay-at-home moms on my street, or a phone call to grandma and grandpa. We were okay, my brothers and me, but we became quite independent at a young age and my visitor, whom I did not speak of other than to my grandmother, was a comfort in my loneliness. I did not know then, but perhaps it was a guardian angel, as my grandmother had suspected, that was visiting me in the early hours of the morning, standing at the foot of my bed gazing down at me. I was never afraid of this “guardian angel,” my trust in God was quite strong from the beginning.

I continued to spend my weekends with my grandparents and enjoyed time at the church for Sunday school, bible school, and church Christmas and Easter plays. Memories of the Presbyterian Church are still clear in my mind today. Looking from the Altar into the community, there were statues of Mary and Joseph on either side of the vestibule and a memorable picture of Jesus in one of the classrooms where Sunday school was held. Jesus looked upon us from that picture with the familiar guardian angel gaze.

My grandmother passed away when I was 13, my parents divorced and things fell apart. My visits from the guardian angel seemed to have disappeared and I lost touch with my active relationship with any church. My mother tried to find a church that suited our broken family but everyone lost interest quickly. I had a close Catholic friend with whom I found comfort in discussing God; although I was not able to attend Mass with her. I admired her faith and the Catholic Church she attended from our discussions.

Through high school I never attended church but continued to feel the presence of God. I felt a strange voice of conscience that was guiding me through freedoms I was given and exploring many questionable experiences that I now look back on and thank God every day for surviving. In reflection, I realize that I was being looked after spiritually. Throughout high school I knew of many fellow students that attended Catholic Mass and had secretly wished that that faith could have been mine.

The summer before my senior year a very good friend and I landed a nanny job. During my stay with a lovely family, I attended a service of prayer with the mother of the household. The service included a reading, of sorts, of a person in attendance by holding a piece of clothing or jewelry and praying over it. Apparently, my reading was quite accurate. After the service the pastor asked if we might meet for coffee with him. I was not quite in agreement but decided to see what it was he was wanting to talk to us about.

At the coffee house the pastor looked and pointed over my left shoulder and stated out loud that I had a Guardian Angel. I was actually a bit startled by his comment and proceeded to turn around and see at whom or what he was pointing, but there was nobody or nothing there. He explained that I had a guardian angel, an Indian, and this Indian was also his guardian angel. Yes, this was true, the visitor that I had had as a child was an Indian. The pastor had my attention. He invited us to his home to view a painting he had painted from his own frequent visitor he had had. Upon entering the front door of his home, the life-size painting in front of me was the visitor, the Indian, I had seen as a child. How I had wished I could share this experience with my grandmother. My desire to return to faith had returned after that summer, but I had no avenue after I had finished the nanny position and returned home.

God, The Father, had sent a guardian, one of His angels to see me through, this was clear, but where to next?

My senior year in high school was challenging in that the freedoms continued to coax me into compromising situations. Good grades, school activities and knowledge of my guardian angel kept me tamed, but before I knew it, I was graduating. I was 18, alone, and my parents moved out of state. I graduated a “latch-key kid.”

Finding my way fast through the worst part of the city in which one could afford had put me close to the university, but it was not safe, I was not comfortable and my life began to unravel into a world of insecurities and what I now know to be sins. I was in a state of indoctrination and so very unhappy. Two years of hating college life, hating myself, promiscuity, and use of substances and drinking alcohol had proved to be too much and my conscience, my guardian angel, was tapping me on the shoulder to make a change. After leaving the university and leaving behind the scholarship that had been awarded, I graduated from a local business college in debt and wondering again, where to next?

Author/Contributor: Patricia Halbach

Please continue to check in to orateproecclesia.com for Part Two of “Of Faith – A three-part journey”