"Revert, revert!"

-- said to me by a woman at a Marian gathering when I shared about my return to Mass

Rewind back to August of 2000. My husband Michael and I had searched long and hard for a church home. In the last seven years, we had attended services at several Assembly of God churches in San Antonio. In between these services, we occasionally attended Catholic Mass. Without Michael's knowledge, I had made a personal decision that my own spiritual double life had to end. One evening as I rested against the oak tree in our front yard, I told the Lord that I no longer had the energy to keep up my spiritual two-step. Though the day had been a typical South Texas scorcher, I didn’t feel overwhelmed by the heat. I felt prayerful and melancholy. I had a lot on my mind.

My daughter was almost 9 years old and she had not made her First Communion in the Catholic Church. Despite our worship at the Assembly of God Church, Michael and I had felt compelled to have our son receive the sacraments of reconciliation (confession) and first Holy Communion. As I look back on this now, I realize that it also had a lot to do with my fear of breaking family traditions. My father looked forward to the baptism of his grandchildren. I had expressed to him when my son was an infant that I didn't believe in infant baptism anymore. His response made me realize that the tradition was important to him. I chose to honor my father's wishes and our son's baptism was a joyful event. It had felt authentic and genuine, and somehow we felt that it was what God wanted. My daughter was now older than our son had been at the time of his reception of these sacraments. I felt guilty about the situation, and I wondered if it was God's will for my daughter to receive these sacraments. I had some doubts. I was reluctant to enroll my daughter in the required CCD (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine) classes at a nearby Catholic parish.

My beautiful children - Michael in his white suit ready to receive his First Communion

When my son was preparing for his reconciliation and first Holy Communion, Michael and I had signed on as CCD teachers to share the experience. I didn't want to go through that process again. I laid a fleece (Judges 6:36-40), something I no longer do. I asked God to give me a sign. I decided to call the Archdiocese of San Antonio religious education office and asked that I be allowed to prepare my daughter for her sacraments at home. If they were in agreement, then we would prepare our daughter to receive the sacraments of reconciliation and her first Holy Communion. If the archdiocese did not allow this, then I would accept that it was not the Lord’s will for our daughter to receive the sacraments.

It was a dry time for me spiritually. I had walked a dual spiritual path since 1985 and I wanted to make a firm decision about my spiritual life. I prayed to the Holy Spirit for guidance. Despite my pessimism about my having laid that fleece, the archdiocese let me know that it was fine for me to prepare my daughter for the sacraments. I would not need to enroll her in a CCD program. For myself, I felt the Holy Spirit leading me back to the Catholic Church, but I was not at all excited about the prospect. How could I prepare my daughter for sacraments I seldom received and didn’t really believe in anymore. How could I teach my daughter with integrity and honesty? I felt hypocritical. I knew the pitfalls of this age-old religion. It wasn't so much that I looked forward to being Catholic, it was more that years of church-hopping had exhausted me. I grew tired of the loud and lively worship. I didn't think it was a bad way to worship, but my heart wasn't in it anymore. Sometimes during the evangelical services, while the congregation was standing, dancing, and raising holy hands, I just wanted to sit down and pray quietly. I had actually started doing so, but it felt odd when everyone else was keeping up the livelier pace. I felt sure that God knew my doubts and fears, and that he was blessing me with the grace I needed to make the move back to the Catholic Church.

It didn’t help my fears and misgivings that I was going through these changes during the intense media coverage of the sexual abuse scandals rocking the American Catholic Church. It was not a good time for Catholics. There was so much media coverage and all of it was terrible. I prayed for a clear answer. I couldn’t help but ask, “Lord is this really Your will for me? You really want me in this Church where all these terrible things are happening?”

On a particularly stressful day when my spiritual life was weighing heavy on my mind, I walked to my mailbox and pulled out the usual bundle of ads and bills. Among the envelopes was a glossy postcard with an image of the crucifixion. At the top of the card, in bold letters, were the words “Rebuild My Church.” In my tired mind, the bold words on the postcard were an answer to my nagging doubts and confusion. I felt God was telling me to do my part in rebuilding his Roman Catholic Church.

Later, when logic and reason set in, I knew that the organization that sent the postcard had no clue about my inner turmoil. They were simply soliciting for new members to add to their roster of supporters. Still, those words clearly resonated with me. Sometimes the Lord writes words with clouds. Sometimes He speaks through the mouths of babies. I have heard His voice within me from my earliest memory. This time, God sent me a postcard. "Rebuild My Church." I knew it was time for me to go home for good.

I shared my decision with Michael. To my surprise, he agreed that we should return to the Catholic Church. His agreement confirmed in my heart that going home to the Catholic Church was what God wanted us to do. Together we walked away from the evangelical faith and re-embraced our Catholic roots.  On my part, I did so with reluctance at first.  I wanted to know the meaning behind the gestures and the culture.  In time, it was with great joy that I discovered that all the practices that evangelicalism had taught me were empty gestures and vain repetition were actually rich with biblical foundation, meaning, history, and tradition.

My first step back to Catholicism began with attendance at Sunday Mass, and sometimes even daily Mass.  My second step was that I began making the sign of the cross every time I prayed, regardless of where I prayed or with whom I prayed.  For the first time in my life, I made the sign of the cross with a heartfelt passion and affection for my Catholic faith that I had never felt before.

We moved forward as a Catholic family as well, and Michael and I let our children know that we would be making the sign of the cross every time we prayed from now on. When they were older, both the children expressed to us their relief at our decision to return to Catholicism.  Apparently, they had tolerated our church-hopping but had never felt comfortable with it. I didn't realize that my spiritual double life had caused confusion for my children.

Soon after my decision to return to the Catholic Church, I went to confession for the first time in many years. I made a full confession. I knelt in the confessional and told the priest my whole story. Along with confessing my sins, I also told him about my doubts, my fears, my history in the evangelical church, my Pentecostal full-immersion baptism, and my years-long rejection of Eucharistic and Marian doctrine. In tears, I poured out my heart and soul. The priest gave me absolution, and I thanked him. His next words brought me so much joy. He said, “Welcome home.”

I’m never leaving again.