Conversion Story

My conversion happened over many many years. As the Holy Spirit moves in ways we don't always understand, so it was with me.  Many pieces of my conversion had to take shape in order to push me down the path.  In order to write about my conversion, you really need to know how far I’ve come.  It’s been a loooooong journey.

I was raised Episcopalian and attended Episcopal school when I was young – from 1^st – 3^rd grades.  I really credit my strong faith now to my early formation in that church.  The parish we belonged to was typical architecture for Florida, but beautiful and traditional on the inside with an altar rail, stained glass panels of all the saints behind the altar,  and it was called... “St.Mary’s”.  God does work in mysterious ways and it was Mary that really helped lead me to her Son all my life.  My parents were involved with the church, and I had a love for God and a love for our parish.  Life was good.  As an episcopalian, I always wondered about the sentence in the Nicene Creed that states, “I believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church".  Of course I understand that statement now as "catholic" refers to "universal", but it made me question.  When I heard that the Catholic church was the very first church, I had a sneaking suspicion that the truth might not lie in this church we attended every week. I had a very early sense that my church was a bit of an imitation.  Yes, I knew that early on.

7 years old

When I was about 8, we moved to Chicago and my parents began to fall away from the Episcopal church.  They instead turned to the occult for answers.  Psychics, reincarnation, numerology, astrology, tarot cards, Ouija boards, and all things occult became commonplace in our household. We were still somewhat Episcopalian, attending services sometimes, but the occult world truly had first dibs on my family.  My friends in Chicago were all  - and I mean “all” - Catholic and I longed to go to CCD with them.  I did manage to go through my confirmation in the Episcopal church in 8th grade, which gave me a sense of completion and oneness with God.

Confirmation into the Episcopal Church - 8th gr.

My father switched jobs a couple more times resulting in two more moves – one to San Antonio in November of my freshman year of high school and the other to Seattle the summer after my freshman year. When we were in San Antonio, we went to the Episcopal church a couple times I believe, and I kept hoping my parents would become involved and we would go back to the church I had loved.  I don't really remember that church very much other than it was located - as all Episcopal churches seemed to be - in the old wealthy section of town.  That too gave me pause.  Why would God only want the "true" church to be located in these neighborhoods.  What about everybody else?  What about "universal"?  Once in Seattle, my parents settled and became more involved in the occult.  We went to the local Episcopal church there once or twice, I believe, and never again.  I kept praying my parents would return to Christianity, but I was definitely confused by this point.  I was starting to believe in everything.

My parents began to attend the Unity Church, which I attended with them as well.  I liked it as it was a happy place - all encompassing and they did state they were Christian - so it seemed okay.  A little different, but okay.  At the same time, I also joined a protestant Christian youth group (Young Life) through my high school.  I had been a part of Young Life back in Chicago and loved going, so I sought it out once I got to Seattle.  I do remember begging my parents to let me go on retreats, and was usually met with disapproval.  I was allowed to go on a winter retreat out into the Cascade mountains and it was a transformative weekend.  It was the first time I had felt safe in years.  Even though I was cold, cold, cold (this Florida girl never adapted to the cold and snow), I never wanted to leave those cabins in the snow deep in the forest.  I remember on the last day, one of the leaders had us break away from the group and go find a place in the snow to sit all by ourselves and just talk with God.  In that solitude and silence, I found the God I had been looking for since I was a child.  I remember asking God how I got here and asked him to guide my steps going forward.  I remember saying I didn't know if I believed in the whole "Jesus thing", but I did believe in God and I knew I was His child.

I had been agreeable to my parents' newfound interests, but longed for something akin to our parish in Tampa.  When I was a senior in high school, I asked my parents if they would attend Christmas Eve midnight mass with me at the local Episcopal Church, and I was met with a definitive “no”.  I went anyways – by myself.  I got all dressed up, left the house, drove to the church and attended service.  It felt really good to be there.  I still remember sitting up front, by myself, wrapped in my long dress coat covering my wool dress and heels, listening in awe to the musicians playing the French horns, and choking back the tears.  The music filled the beautiful sanctuary and in my loneliness I felt comforted.  

The next year I went away to college – to Arizona State University - and I did meet my husband that year, but my life was a mess.   I had no roadmap to point me in the right direction, no set of boundaries to corral me, and certainly no prayer life to keep me centered.  I was clearly unable to live on my own and care for myself, so I returned home after my freshman year and attended community college.  My saint of a husband somehow saw the good in me and loved me anyway - through all the muck.  I maintained a long-distance relationship with my (now) husband, who was graduating that December.  He was in ROTC and had to do his officer training upon graduation.  He was stationed at Ft.Knox, and I was still attending community college.  At spring break, I flew out to see him, he asked me to marry him, and I called my parents and told them I wasn’t coming back.  Needless to say, that didn’t go over well, but my life with my future husband was beginning.  He and I did have a conversation that weekend about the future of our spiritual lives.  He had been raised a cradle Catholic and I was, well, a bit of everything at that point.  I told him I wanted to raise our children in ONE FAITH, and he absolutely agreed.  We vowed we would find the truth together.

He went in to the reserves and we moved back to Phoenix.  We were living together, completely unware of living "in sin", and felt we were being smart as either of us could leave at any time without the consequences of divorce.  Have you heard that argument before?  Yeah, we got caught up in it.  Once in Phoenix, we began attending Episcopal and Catholic churches trying to find the truth.  The funny thing was that I somehow knew that it lied in the Catholic church but couldn't put my finger on why.  I remember walking into a Catholic church for the first time and sitting there in awe.  I knew.  What was it?  What was there that wasn't in the Episcopal church?  Or I should say, who?  This will sound funny, but I wasn't sold right away on the Catholic church because it seemed "too liberal"!  I didn't understand the modern band for mass music and parishioners attending in shorts and flip flops.  That was definitely new to me!  I guess I can thank Vatican II for that, but thankfully, Jesus is and has always been in control of His church.  The truth was there nevertheless!

Wedding Day - Phoenix Courthouse

Christmas of 1989, we were married by a justice of the peace downtown Phoenix.  The very next morning, the moving van arrived to cart our few boxes of belongings to New Mexico - our new home as my husband had a job there. We were in NM for one year and in that time, we attended Catholic and Episcopal churches from time to time.  I will never forget Easter service at the Episcopal church there.  Down the aisle came a female pastor and that just about sent me over the edge.  That was not the church I grew up in.  I told my husband I wanted to join the RCIA classes and learn more about the Catholic Church, but I would have to wait for the fall.  I knew the truth was definitely there, but I needed to study and learn – I needed to do research and find the answers.

I was attending the University of New Mexico and decided to take a junior level theology class entitled “The Reformation” ... just because it sounded interesting.  God works in mysterious ways – and He has a sense of humor!  It was there that I learned about the roots of my Episcopal faith and the schism from the ONE TRUE CHURCH that Jesus himself established.  My facts were beginning to line up and the truth was revealing itself to me.  My husband decided he wanted to go to medical school, which would meant we would be moving to Miami to live with his folks.  RCIA would have to wait just a bit longer.  We found the local Catholic church there and attended from time to time.  I still longed for the traditions of my old Episcopal church, but knew in my heart it wasn’t right – the truth was not there.  Keep in mind, I still held on to beliefs from the occult world.  I was still confused.

Our drive cross country from NM to FL - with yellow lab in front seat with us!

I was trying to finish college, now trying to find the college where I would finally graduate.  I was going to attend the University of Miami, but they were making it difficult for me – no financial aid, wrong classes, etc.  Someone said to check out a local Catholic college, Barry University.  I met with an advisor and it was too perfect  - everything fell into place.  Of course…it was CATHOLIC!  Hahaha  I was excited about the fact that I would have to take some theology classes…more investigation.  I was an Elementary Education major, so I only had to take some basic religion courses to graduate, but they honestly didn't sound very interesting … and I was on a quest for the truth!  I took  “Old Testament”, “Biomedical Ethics”, and a senior level class called “Sacraments and Liturgy”.  Those classes sealed the deal for me.  I studied our roots as Christians, the fundamental beliefs of Catholics in sacraments and liturgy, and educated myself (without realizing it) on moral issues.  Ironic, as I was very much pro-choice, pro-euthanasia, pro-capital punishment, and would end up becoming involved with the pro-life movement - even running the ministry for our parish!  I felt at home on that Catholic university campus and was falling in love with the faith.

In August of 1992, Hurricane Andrew hit Miami and destroyed my in-law's home.  My father-in-law was in the Air Force and was immediately transferred to a base in Turkey on the eastern border close to Syria.  We decided it would be the chance of a lifetime to see a part of the world we probably would never see again, so the end of May 1993, we flew to Turkey.  Only…we thought the plane ride would be too long, so we decided to break it up - stopping for a week somewhere in Europe.  But where in Europe? That was the question.  We narrowed it down to Italy because we figured the food would be good, it would be warm, and there would be cool ruins.  That was basically our thought process, but the trip turned into a sort of pilgrimage.  We stayed a week in Italy - visiting the Vatican, participating in mass with then Pope John Paul II, sightseeing around Rome, hunting down early Christian catacombs out the old Appian Way, spending time in St. Anthony's Basilica in Padua, and experiencing Venice.  Walking inside the Vatican was an ominous experience.  I wanted to just lie down on the floor for a few days and take it all in.  Seriously, if I could have camped out there, I would have!!!

In front of St. Peter's Basilica  May 1993

We then flew on to Istanbul and toured the Hagia Sofia (getting to see the clash of ancient Christian art and a Muslim takeover) and the Topkapi Museum (getting to see John the Apostle's forearm and part of his skull).  We took a treacherous plane ride south to Izmir, where we met up with our in-laws.  From there, we drove the whole Southern coast of Turkey, making stops in Pamukkale (cool calcium deposits and natural "healing" waters), Ephesus (like the home of the Ephesians!!!), the House of Mary where Mary lived after Jesus' crucifixion (on top of mountain overlooking Ephesus), Antalya, Tarsus (Paul's birthplace), and finally to the base in Adana.  We stayed a month in Turkey and were able to visit Cappadoccia (ancient Christian city carved into the mountains), as well as the mac-daddy of tourist spots…the very first Christian church established by St. Peter in Antioch!!!  Seeing all of these places, walking the same roads the Apostles walked, stepping inside ancient Christian burial sites and cities solidified in my soul the reality of the Biblical stories.  They weren't stories anymore.  They were real places...real people…traveling great distances…sacrificing their lives...to spread the Good News…of our Savior.  This trip was like the big red bow on my my present of faith, and when we got back to Miami, I enrolled in our local RCIA program.

The marble road that leads into Ephesus

St. John the Apostle's 1st Church

Mary's House (where John took her to live after the crucifixion) overlooking Ephesus

Inside the FIRST CHRISTIAN CHUCH - Antioch

Outside Roman facade of Peter's Church - Antioch

That senior year, I began subbing at a local Episcopal school. Yes, Episcopal!  Uggg, what was I thinking?  Well, I fell in love with the school – small class sizes, beautiful neighborhood, great curriculums, creative teachers, beautiful school, etc.  I honestly think, I was still grasping at my Episcopal roots - like I was hoping for God to jump and tell me my Episcopal roots were the truth and following him would be easy!  I wouldn't have to convert.  I would just be able to stay in my comfort zone.  Well, as we all know, Jesus says we must pick up our own cross in order to follow Him.  Following Him is never easy.  I was gunning for a job there upon graduation. The administration had even had a meeting with me to tell me they wanted to hire me for a 2^nd grade position, discussed salary and benefits…it was a done deal. They would call me in about a week to come in and sign the contract.   I felt like I was finally getting to be a part of a school and parish like the one from my early childhood! The call never came.  I was devastated – and without a job or other contacts.  I prayed for God’s help.  How could I have been so dumb as to put all my eggs in one basket?

One week later, I received a phone call from a Carmelite sister who was the principal at a local Catholic school I had never even heard of.  She said she had heard good things about me and wanted me to interview at her school.  She had heard this from a nun at another Catholic school whom I had only met very briefly.  It seemed like divine providence and who was I to argue when I needed a job?   I was in RCIA, but had been looking to return to my Episcopal roots?  Sooooo, God just intervened and got rid of the Episcopal path forever.  I landed the job at the Catholic school beating out 75 other applicants.  God had literally led me into the hands of the Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart of Los Angeles – the same order that was started in Mexico during the Cristero War. 

Getting to teach with the Carmelite sisters was a highlight of my life.  It was from them that I saw the love of Jesus and His blessed Mother working through these beautiful ladies on a daily basis.  The Carmelites had such a devotion to Mary, and that intrigued me.  I had never really felt comfortable with my relationship with Jesus, but Mary might just be the ticket.  She definitely appealed to me as a woman.  "Sister M", my principal, brought me into her office and told me I would be teaching language arts, history, and religion for 6^th and 7^th grades.  Yup, me…religion.  To say I was nervous would be an understatement.  How would I, not even yet a Catholic, be able to convey to these children their Catholic faith? Why on earth would a priest and a nun have that much faith in me that I could do the job?  I went to see Sister and said, “What if these children ask me something that I cannot answer?”  She calmly looked at me with her crystal blue eyes peering out from her habit and said, "Just by you being here and asking me that question makes me completely confident you will do fine.  If you don’t know an answer, just tell them you don’t know and then come ask me."  I left feeling confident because she had confidence in me. I think that's what God's love for us is like.  He loves us and has faith in us.  It's up to us to rely on Him and have faith in Him.  

My pastor told me that he would like it if I switched my RCIA program to his parish.  I did so.  I was scheduled to become a full-fledged Catholic that coming Easter.  My students all knew I was not Catholic and used to giggle at me every time I said “holy ghost” instead of “holy spirit”.  They enjoyed hearing about what I was learning, and I enjoyed reading their textbook and preparing lessons and making sure I was ready for whatever questions came my way.  Sometimes the students had really good questions and at the end of the year, I invited our associate pastor to my classes just to field questions.  He got a big kick out of that!

One day, I was speaking with my pastor and he asked me if my husband and I were married in the church.  When I told him no, he in no uncertain terms informed me that I wasn’t really married, and was living in sin.  What???  I actually had no idea.  I was a little horrified that it never occurred to me in that way.  I obviously knew we weren’t married in the church, but it just did not occur to me that my marriage was not valid – almost like it never occurred.  Our fifth wedding anniversary was coming up that Christmas and our pastor suggested we have the ceremony then.  He also said that we could attend the Saturday evening mass after the ceremony and he would give me my very first communion as a Catholic.  He would save Confirmation for Easter.

Married in the Church!  5th wedding Anniversary - 12/18/94

On Saturday, December 18, 1994, I showed up to the Church with my husband and a few friends and family.  We were married in the chapel that evening before the Saturday night mass.  When we came out of the chapel, my entire homeroom class was there as a surprise.   Unbeknownst to me, they had been meeting in private with the music teacher for months to practice a song and dance to perform at my special mass.  It was hard for me to watch the performance through all the tears.  I was finally married, Jesus was flowing through my blood in the form of the Eucharist, and my students were there not only cheering me on, but witnessing my transformation.  The song they performed was “Awesome God”.  Truly.  They carried a life-size cross up to the altar, held it up, and danced and sang about how mighty our God is.  I think I was actually happier for them that they were being brought up in this faith – that they would not have to go through what I went through to get there.  The innocent joy on their faces while singing and dancing for the Lord – out of the goodness of their hearts - was priceless.  It is a memory that is permanently etched on my heart.

At Easter, I was confirmed and finally a member of the Catholic Church! Today, my husband and I are involved with our local parish.   I know I have a long way to go in my faith.  I know I am a student for life. I try to praise God in all situations, good and bad, for He has not led me astray…nor will He ever.  He is TRUTH and the GIVER OF LIFE!

Confirmed! Easter Sunday 1995, Miami, FL