“Jesus said to him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” John 14:6 (NKJV)
In the beginning of October we went to Ireland for two weeks. It was truly a gift and a blessing to make this trip to a place I have always wanted to visit.
As we landed in Cork, I cried as we approached the ground. The water, the green, the land of my family’s ancestors. Since childhood, this nation has drawn me to it, sparking curiosity, and sometimes just a longing to be there.
One of the first days there we walked about the city center of Cork, honestly, I can’t remember if it was at the end of a walking tour, or if we were just exploring, but we stopped in to St Peter and Paul Catholic Church.
As I have said many times previously, I was raised Catholic and left the church in 1977. Since that time I have tried to live my life for my Lord and Savior. I have not been perfect, by any means. I have gone to mass with my sisters on occasion and remember fondly my growing up in the church. I respect the traditions the church holds close.
Anyhow, we entered the church. It reminded me of the church I was raised in. The faint smell of incense greeted me at the door. A welcoming smell, one that felt comfortable. I walked into the building, looking at the rose stained glass window, the stations of the cross, the elaborate confessionals. People were pausing to pray inside. A reverent quietness permeated everything.
I often struggle with my faith. Is it enough? Am I strong in my beliefs? Am I pleasing God? I am sure at some points, people of faith wrestle with these thoughts.
I finally sat down. In the back. I looked at the kneeler. I smiled as I remembered that as a child I would look on the floor of our church and have pretend conversations with non existent ants to pass the time of kneeling a long time. I remembered being walked into mass on Fridays by the Benedictine nuns who taught us. Their strictness that we stay in line, not dawdling, kneeling straight . Memories flooded in, more than I imagined.
And then, as I sat there, I was enveloped in a peaceful presence. A still voice deep inside assured me that all my life my heart has been His. I may not have said the prayer at the time, but my heart yearned for closeness to my God. I am His. He knows my name. An unexpected peace in a cathedral.
The Refreshing of a Wild Rose 