OK, I have been thinking of this for a long time and after reading a fellow
blogger's "Conversion Story", I am inspired to put my own story down. I have enjoyed conversion stories for years. It's some of my favorite reading.. books such as
Second Exodus, by Marty Barrack (
http://www.secondexodus.com/) and
Surprised by Truth, by
Patrick Madrid (
http://www.surprisedbytruth.com/). There are others which I can't seem to remember right now, but will put links up at some point for reference! Of course there have been conversion stories on CD which I have enjoyed too... the stories of people like Scott and Kimberly Hahn, Fr. John
Corapi,
SOLT, Marcus
Grodi, Fr. Donald
Calloway, MIC, and anyone on Marcus
Grodi's EWTN program,
The Journey Home (Monday nights at 8pm EST).
The battle has been with myself, really...should I write my story down so as to try and help other souls, or do I keep to myself, thinking that would be the humble approach. I much prefer that approach, actually, since I am more of a natural-born introvert. But, after much thought and prayer, I have decided that I am not supposed to hide the light beneath a bushel basket, but rather should let it shine and, therefore, give God all the glory.
So, let's start with my youth. I was raised in a nominally Catholic home. I don't even know if I can say "nominally Catholic", because we never went to Mass as a family that I can remember, we didn't have family prayer, not even around the dinner table, and I don't even know if we had a crucifix hanging up on the wall. Then of course there's the fact that we lived in a strict Muslim country for almost 5 years of my childhood.
The only thing that would qualify me as being raised
somewhat Catholic would be that, somehow, I ended up receiving all the Sacraments, up through Confirmation (probably at the
insistence of my grandmother..but, my dad and mom must have been the ones who signed me up for the classes..thanks, Dad and Mom, and Grandma and Grandpa!). A little
side note here though: I don't remember ever receiving the Sacrament of
Reconciliation until I was 20 years old. I have no ill feelings towards my parents for not raising me in a Catholic atmosphere. I love them and I pray for their reversion and conversion someday (my dad's Catholic, my mom is still contemplating Baptism). I want nothing more than to have them in Heaven! I pray that they come to peace with God before they draw their last breaths. They are the ones who gave me the great gift of Holy Baptism.. I can never be grateful enough for that. They also brought me to receive my 1st Holy Communion all those years ago in Texas. I think I was 7 years old... the age of my daughter this year, as she prepares to receive her Lord and Savior in 1st Holy Communion in the Spring of 2010! (she and her Daddy and I can't wait!)
On my big day, I remember walking down the aisle of the Church next to some boy in a suit... (I wonder what happened to him?). I felt like a nervous bride. In my later adult years, I looked back at a picture of me in my 1st Communion dress and I thought, "wow, that dress was short..and how 'bout those knee socks?". Sadly, I can't remember anything more about one of the most transformational days in my life.
Occasionally, I think we'd go to church in my tender years, back in Texas where we lived somewhat near my dad's only sibling... my Auntie and Godmother. Before that, let's say up to age 5, I remember snatches of prayerful moments on my knees at bedtime with my mom in Massachusetts. And there was one time, maybe when I was older. when we were at an outdoor Mass somewhere, I think with my grandparents. My Grandpa's voice is always so beautiful as he sings the hymns!
Then came San Francisco, California.... we lived there less than a year, before moving to that strict Muslim country. I was 8. I don't remember any church experiences at all from that time period. I do remember things like waking up from an earth "tremor", terrified... and then there was that "UFO" I saw from my bedroom window. I kid you not. I was scared out of my mind and awoke my mom who confirmed what I was seeing. To this day we don't know if it was a strange weather balloon or what! I am sure there is a logical explanation... anyway, I digress from my story! There are other, happier memories from San Francisco.. trips to the authentic China Town restaurants, to the Wharf, doll shopping with my parents in town, trolley cars, Golden Gate Park, this seafood restaurant right on the ocean, and roast beef grinders. ;)
Well, on that note, we must quickly head out... to Mass! This is to be continued....
