I'm so happy for this family at Perfect Work.

The baby is so beautiful; the parents so blessed. It's hard for me to confess that even with my happiness for them, I feel sorry for myself.

Everything is a grace, everything is the direct effect of our father's love - difficulties, contradictions, humiliations, all the soul's miseries, her burdens, her needs - everything, because through them, she learns humility, realizes her weakness - Everything is a grace because everything is God's gift. Whatever be the character of life or its unexpected events - to the heart that loves, all is well.-St. Therese of Liseux.

This is a quote Perfect Work referenced in a recent post. It's a beautiful reflection on the gift of suffering. I suffer from infertility with little hope of resolution besides a miracle. I am having a hard time today (not always), in accepting this suffering as grace. Right now I'd take a baby over this "gift" in a heart-beat.

I wonder if I should start avoiding the blogs with resolved infertility and maybe search for blogs about moving past infertility and living child-free? I wonder how many Catholic blogs there are out there on this topic? I'll have to start checking and get back to you on what I find.

Catholic Conversion, Part II

When it came time to get married, I planned a marriage in the United Methodist Church. My fiance thought it would be nice to have the priest from his childhood also present. When we called to talk to him about a collaboration, the priest said since I was active in my church and my fiance wasn't active in his, there really wasn't a reason for him to be present. He said if a time came when my fiance wanted to be more active in his faith, then we would have options to consider. I was satisfied with this and so was my fiance. My future mother-in-law was horrified.

After we were married I stayed active in the United Methodist Church. We lived on a family farm and after church on Sunday, I often came home to find my mother-in-law leaving for Mass. She always invited me along and I always went; after all, I loved Catholic Mass. My husband never went to Mass.

Two years found this marriage in a divorce (we never tried to have children and practiced effective birth control). Ten years later found me not attending any church and getting married again. I was marrying yet another non-practicing Catholic. This was a second marriage for both of us and we were married in a court-house.

Shortly after marriage, we moved to a town close to my paternal aunt. She and her family are devout Catholics and active in their faith and parish. My aunt invited us to a mission done by Father Claudio. This mission renewed my husband's faith. He spoke to my aunt and asked her if she thought I would consider becoming a Catholic. She was certain I would and encouraged him to ask. I have no idea why, in all the years before, I had never considered becoming a Catholic. When my husband asked, it seemed like in my heart and mind I already was Catholic and the answer was an easy yes.

On a side note; my aunt is a convert. She converted from United Methodist to Catholicism back when she got married. It was always a sore spot for my father. My father openly hated the Catholic Church. He knew I went to Mass with his sister and may have suspected I was more "involved" in the church than I directly indicated, but it was never discussed. I wouldn't have lied about my conversion, but I didn't want to face the argument if I could avoid it. My father died not knowing I ever converted. I believe that if it's possible, my priest prayed my father into Heaven. Mass, after mass was dedicated to my father by my priest; far more than I've ever seen dedicated to another soul. Regarless of the outcome, I'm thankful for his efforts.

So the question became, where to go to RCIA?

Catholic Conversion, Part I

When I was about 11 years old, I decided I wanted to be a nun. This wouldn't be unusual if I had been raised Catholic, but I was raised United Methodist. There isn't a specific event I can point to that preceded my desire to be a nun. Today I believe it was an actual calling from God. I spent hours in prayer in my bedroom. I had a ceramic figurine my deceased paternal grandmother had made for me and I used it as an icon during my prayers. (Since my conversion, I've learned that my grandmother was born and raised Catholic and joined the United Methodist Church sometime after her first child took his first Communion.) My calling was so great, I told my mother about it. She didn't have any idea about what to do, so we had a meeting with my school guidance councilor. He put me in touch with an ex-nun who taught math at my school. I don't remember much of what she told me, except that there would be plenty of time for me to decide to be a nun and I should wait and see what happens. I can still remember the day, in tears, that I prayed to God and let him know I wasn't going to be able to be a nun after all. I asked His forgiveness and that was the end of that.

After middle school, I decided I wanted to attend our local private Catholic high school. I had friends who were going there and the public school I would have attended was going through race riots that scared me. So, now I had my exposure to actual nuns, but no calling. I liked the nuns, except I was learning a lot about the Catholic church I didn't like. I thought it was crazy to think the host became the body of Christ, when it was obvious to anyone, it didn't. I also heard a story about a couple who wanted to be married in the church and were told they couldn't, because he was in a wheel chair and the marriage could never be consummated. They were faithful Catholics, so they wouldn't live together without being married. I thought how terrible a church to have stupid rules that would keep this loving couple apart. Based on these two reasons, I not only decided that the Catholic church wasn't for me, but that I was in fact an atheist.

Now of course, being a teenager full of contradiction, I had some wonderful encounters with the Catholic faith. I was drawn to mass and able to attend, actually required to attend, at school. I was told by a priest that if I felt called to receive communion, I should even though I wasn't Catholic, (bless that man). I was allowed to go to confession even though I wasn't Catholic and enjoyed the experience. We had a chapel at our school and I spent some of my free time there in prayer. Many of the friends I made were Catholic. This set the stage for attending more masses with them when we weren't in school, which I did. I also met the Catholic man I would marry after graduating college.

After I graduated college, I moved home and became active in the United Methodist church of my youth. When it came time to get married ...