My Conversion Story

Today I was at a Legion of Mary meeting and spoke to Father about one of my children who is having some difficulties. He mentioned a couple of things which will be food for thought in future postings. The thing that really got me excited in my conversation with him was a book he mentioned "Surprised by Truth". The library at church had a copy of the sequel "Surprised By Truth 2"-- I took it out.

I went to a restaurant and ate my lunch, and then spent the best half hour of intense reading in a long while. The book is about the reasons behind the conversion of several people who have converted to Catholicism, which resonated with me since I am a convert. So I decided to tell my story on my blog. So here it is.

My earliest memory of going to church was probably in a Unitarian Church. I remember it was filled with colored light from stained glass windows-- I was very impressed. I was about 4. That was possibly the first time my parents took me to church. They did not go very often. My dad worked most days- even Sundays- at a gas station. We were pretty hard up and he didn't have a choice about working or not on Sundays- but truthfully, although he was Christian, he was not really a churchgoing guy. My mother couldn't drive in those days. The next time my sister and I went to church was about a year later. We went with our next door neighbors to their church-- it was an Episcopal Church. I don't know about my sister, but I was amazed-- the church was huge. I had to go to the restroom during the service and I remember being terrified that I would never find our friends who had brought us again-- it was just so big. Our neighbors on the other side were Catholic. I remember the girl that was between my sister's and my ages showing us her statues of the Blessed Mother and of Christ, and her rosary. We didn't have anything like those items at our house, and I asked my mother about them. I don't remember her answer-- but it was not encouraging, you can bet.

Then  we moved to the country, and my mother tried to start taking us to church. We went first to a Community Church, and then to a Baptist Church. (I still remember the pastor there's sermons-- I was terrified-- he yelled a lot it seemed to me!

Three years later, we went to my cousin's wedding. He was a Catholic convert. At the wedding, everyone was knelt on the kneelers several times during the service. "When in Rome-- do what the Romans do" -- right?? So when they knelt, I knelt. I remember my mother looking down the pew at me, and the look on her face spoke volumes. She was not happy. I could not understand why - it did not seem like a bad thing to be kneeling. Weren't we supposed to kneel in prayer when we said our prayers next to the bed at night? How could kneeling in church, where it seemed even more appropriate, be wrong?

I'd had exposure at that point to five different churches. In my teens yet another neighbor took my sister and I to church. That was a Presbyterian Church. That made it six different churches. I noticed that each church said it was "the" way to Heaven. I felt confused. How could all these churches be the only way? I started praying every night that God would lead me to the best church. I believe my parents are in Heaven. I have to believe that, but of course, only God knows for sure. BUT- I do believe that the Catholic Church is the One Universal Church that is the Church that Christ spoke about to St. Peter "Upon this rock I will build my church".

So, when I started to date my husband, who had had his fill of non Catholic girlfriends who not only weren't Catholic but hated Catholics, he said (after he asked me to marry him of course lol) that he could not marry a non-Catholic. It seemed that I'd been waiting to be asked to be Catholic since that wedding almost ten years before. In addition to my husband, there were several people along the way whose faith just made me sit up and take notice. It just added up to -- I wanted what they had. I knew no other people at my age that had such a firm faith. Although my faith journey has not been entirely smooth since my baptism, (I did have some rocky sections) when looking back over the course of the years, I thank God for His calling me to become Catholic. It is a joy.