Chosen

+JMJ+

Yesterday, when I arrived very early at St. Theresa's for Confession, there was some kind of charismatic Mass and healing service going on in the Sanctuary.  I have never seen anything like that before, but after reading something a priest wrote about being Baptized in the Holy Spirit, I had always wished that I could be--so I quietly took a seat in the very back of the church near the Reconciliation Room to wait and see what would happen.  I believe that God places people in certain situations deliberately, so I was trying to be open to this experience, to get from it whatever He intended--and I wanted to try to participate spiritually in what was happening there. 

Tried... but could not. At the end of the Mass, the priest and Deacon called people up to the altar to receive Christ, to receive the Baptism of the Holy Spirit;  both of them were apparently speaking in tongues, because they were making verbal sounds in some language that was definitely not English.  

I hate to say this, but it felt very forced... contrived.... artificial to me, and honestly, it made me uncomfortable. Perhaps it is just a function of my past experience in the Church, plus my personality, but I prefer a much more "interior" and austere participation in worship: still very passionate, but happening within not without--if that makes any sense.  Maybe I am just too self-conscious, I don't know.

But what occurred to me while sitting there, was that the experience I did have so long ago--when God came to me on a MARTA bus taking me home from work on September 11, 1981--may have actually been my Baptism in the Holy Spirit!  I had never thought about that before, but on that day, when I was enveloped with an incredible warmth from head to toe, and knew positively that I was in the Presence of God--I changed from an atheist into a believer in one instant, and was never the same since.  Jesus said it Himself, as reported in the Gospel of John: "No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws them.."--and that is what happened. 

From that day forward, I have been consumed with a passionate love for God, burning like an unquenchable fire in my heart that just won't go away. Even during those horrible years after I left the convent, when I turned away from God because I blamed Him for the failure of my religious vocation (many years later He revealed to me that it was actually my fault, not His!)--I still was aware of His Presence in and around me, and I kept talking to Him, although in a very disrespectful, angry way.

About a year or so ago, by chance I came across and listened to a Catholic podcast on the web, in which the panel of priests and seminarians discussed the concept of particularity which, as they explained it, means that God works in each one of us individually, not as a group.  He does what He wills, what He wants to do, with each person separately, and thus He has different plans for each one of us.

This seems very mysterious to me, and hard to accept, because it implies that we are not all equal in His Divine Plan, which is an idea which Americans instinctively reject.  In our imaginations at least, we espouse the ideal of democracy and equality in everything--and yet, some people are clearly called to be Saints, evangelists, spouses, martyrs, parents, religious Sisters active in ministry, priests, vowed religious in monasteries, single in the world, consecrated virgins, etc., etc.--an incredible array of different forms of life.

Although I am uncomfortable talking about or even thinking this, if I am completely honest, I can see from examining my past life, that He clearly chose me--first to be Catholic, and then to have a religious vocation.  Read my story of how I got to the Catholic Church, and I think you will see that God actually pursued me until He finally got me into His Church!

I am different from other people, and I always have been.  I am not interested in the things that most people are interested in and never have been.  I always had a sense of "not fitting in," until I discovered religious life, which was the only state in which I was ever happy.  If I choose, I can remain in an almost constant state of prayer, which is God's Gift--people can't "make that happen," He has to give it to you. When I am driving to Mass, I have a sense of excitement, because I am on my way to meet my Lover. When I come into the Presence of the Blessed Sacrament, I experience an incredible sense of comfort, like coming home, and I never want to leave.

I was miserable for more than 25 years after I left religious life in 1990 at the age of 43--and when, in a seemingly "chance" encounter, a priest suggested to me that I had been wrong not to try again--and against all odds, I begged God to allow me to have a consecrated life again--He provided the way for this to happen within a matter of days. 

So yes, I am going to say it: He chose me.  I don't know why.  I am incredibly grateful.  And I pray only that I can become so immersed in Him, so surrendered to Him, so completely faithful to Him and His Will, that "I" disappear, and become one with God right here on earth. +

How Fast Things Are Changing!

+JMJ+

Wow: I haven't written anything in a while, but so much is happening!  

I returned slightly early from my visit to Concordia, because of my father's unexpected death on July 15th.  Even though he had not been in good health for many years, it still came as a shock.  I hate that I was not here, but I am grateful that I had been sending him frequent postcards with little notes, so he knew I was thinking about him... and so glad that he died at home in his own bed, and that he never had to go to a nursing home, which would have been devastating.  Although he was an avowed atheist, he was a very good man, upright and moral in every way--and he loved me so much!  Fr. Flaherty told me once that he believes there is room in Heaven for everyone, even atheists--so I am taking comfort in the thought that although he seemed to disavow Jesus, Jesus never disavowed him.  He is in this picture at a time when he was in his prime, the day I made my First Profession in the Dominicans in August 1987--so handsome, I always thought he looked like the actor, James Garner:

After I arrived home, I finally got my "official"letter from Sr. Jean Rosemarynoski, the President of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Concordia, inviting me to enter the Canonical Novitiate on October 15, 2018.  This is absolutely huge! While I was there, they gave me every indication that I was welcome and expected to return:  they showed me my room and invited me to rearrange the furniture--and gave me a mailbox in the office downstairs... but I knew that I still had to have my entrance voted on by the Leadership Council, and I was very nervous about that--especially since I had managed to alienate one of the LC members during the Lace Retreat.  Long story, but she was trying to teach me how to make bobbin lace, a CSJ tradition--but I was not a quick learner, and as I perceived that she was getting irritated with my slowness, I froze up (as I wrote in my previous post), and got even worse!  I hope I will find an opportunity to get to know her better--and she me--so she can find out that I'm really a very nice person after all!

Here are some pictures of my room-to-be, prior to my rearranging it.  I will post some updated pictures when I get there, and have everything unpacked!  This is from the hallway outside, looking into the room

Then, some pictures inside the room--again, before I moved all the furniture around:

And last, two pictures showing what I see outside my two windows. My room is in the back of the house, right by the fire escape.  In the 2nd picture, right beyond that red shed, is the train track! It is astonishingly close to the convent, and very loud, too!  But I love trains, and so I am sure it won't bother me one bit.

Currently, my plan is to leave Carrollton no later than October 13th, so I can be there by October 15th.

What Lifelong Bullying Can Do

+JMJ+

I had a very unpleasant experience during the Lace Retreat I attended a few weeks ago, which has led me to a great deal of reflection--and insight!

A lifelong problem for me, is that whenever I perceive that someone is angry with me, I become absolutely paralyzedwith fear--completely non-functional, unable to think or act rationally. Unfortunately, I was not a "natural" when it came to making bobbin lace, and the Sister who was trying to teach me to do it, became understandably exasperated with my

slowness and seeming incapacity to learn the stitches as quickly as others.

I became so terrified when this happened, I could not control my emotional reaction.  I was unable to tell her what was wrong, and unable to follow her directions, because I was too frightened to hear and act on what she was trying to tell me.

What I came to realize however, is that this is the direct result of how my mother controlled me for my entire life!  She is a cold, unloving person, extremely domineering, who required total, unquestioning obedience in all things; if I ever dared not to comply in the smallest way, her anger was so awful, that I learned to “go limp” mentally and emotionally, as a way to cope and keep her from getting even more angry.  She is a classic bully: she has no respect for anyone, especially me and my father--we are very much alike, both very gentle people--because we cannot stand up to her, which leads her to feel nothing but contempt for us. She truly believes that everyone else is stupid, and she is the only smart one.

Until now, I had never been able to see or understand this, until I thought deeply about what happened between myself and the Sister who was trying to teach me, as I tried to figure out why I was so completely helpless under those circumstances. My perception that she was angry, caused in me the same reaction that my mother knows so well how to create--and so instead of being able to listen to what she was telling me and do it, instead I just froze, and actually got worse instead of better.

As unpleasant as this experience was, God brought some good out of it, by giving me this new insight into the root cause of my problem. In this suffering which has dominated my life, I have come to cling to these words:

“‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”

I really never understood until now, how deeply my mother damaged me. I blossom when treated with kindness and love, and shrivel up without it. All my life, I constantly looked for love, but never found the kind I needed until I found God.

This morning, as I was preparing to go up for Communion, it occurred to me for the first time (I am so slow!) that the Body and Blood of Christ could heal me! So I went up, thinking about the woman in the Bible who touched His cloak in order to be healed, begging to be healed by His touch. I am going to keep asking this every day, and perhaps He will choose to do it, I don’t know. It could be that this is just something I was destined to endure, because of what it has taught me about how to treat others.

This prayer by Cardinal Newman, is one I have made my own, because this is how I want to be…

Radiating Christ

Dear Jesus, help me to spread Your fragrance everywhere I go.
Flood my soul with Your spirit and life.
Penetrate and possess my whole being so utterly,
That my life may only be a radiance of Yours.

Shine through me, and be so in me
That every soul I come in contact with
May feel Your presence in my soul.
Let them look up and see no longer me, but only Jesus!

Stay with me and then I shall begin to shine as You shine,
So to shine as to be a light to others;
The light, O Jesus will be all from You; none of it will be mine;
It will be you, shining on others through me.

Let me thus praise You the way You love best, 
by shining on those around me.
Let me preach You without preaching, not by words but by my example,
By the catching force of the sympathetic influence of what I do,
The evident fullness of the love my heart bears to You.

Amen

2018 Retreat Notes

I am in a Lace Retreat at Manna House in Concordia this week, and in addition to learning to make bobbin lace--which is a long-standing tradition in the Sisters of St. Joseph--the retreat theme is "Contemplating Our Stories."

Each day, we have been provided with a set of questions on which to reflect and write, if we choose to do so, and at the end, we will share some of our reflections with the group (again, if we wish to.)

Monday, June 25:  Stories around your birth, naming, Baptism, personal characteristics, uniqueness, God's imprint on you. 

I know that I was conceived shortly after my parents married (May 10, 1946), while they were both still in the Navy.  Mom told me that she tried to get out on a medical discharge, because Dad was due to be discharged before she was, and she knew she was pregnant so she wanted to leave with him.  However, in those days, pregnancy tests were not very accurate, and they kept coming back negative, so she had to stay!  I was born in Mom's home town of Detroit, Michigan, at Harper Hospital, which no longer exists.  I was not baptized, however, until I was about 7, because my parents were not practicing any religion. I remember my mother telling me that my father really wanted a girl, and how happy he was when I was born, and that as soon as he got home from work, he always wanted to see me right away and pick me up--waking me--which aggravated my mother.

Tuesday, June 26: Stories around the kind of family you grew up in, what were the rules/expectations and how did they shape you? Birth order, are you like either of your parents?  What did you like to do as a child, and has this affected your life?  How did you know you belonged (or did not), and where is God in all of this?

There were just the 4 of us, and we were always very close, and had a lot of fun together. My parents were very strict, however, especially my mother, and we got spanked regularly when we got out of line... my mother had quite a bad temper, but we were never allowed to display any anger whatsoever.  My mother was also very controlling and manipulative, and I was not given any freedom--but it was not until I sought therapy very late in life, that I recognized this and saw it as the problem it was... I always hated being so completely dominated by my mother, but it never occurred to me (until therapy) that I was actually free to resist her--until then, I really thought that I was not strong enough to ever say NO to her!  --so I spend nearly my entire life under her emotional control.  Although she seems very sweet to people who don't know her, she is actually capable of great cruelty and emotional abuse. I personally believe she is mentally ill, although she has never been diagnosed, because she knows how to act around strangers.

The way in which I believe God was in all of this, was that I can look back and see that from my earliest childhood, God pursued me... He wanted me for some reason I cannot understand.  And it was not until September 11, 1981, when I became a believer, that I experienced unconditional love.

This is my first bobbin lace project, a snake... lot of mistakes, but not horrible for a first attempt!

Living the Life

+JMJ+

I just realized that I have not written anything here in quite a while, but I have a lot to tell!

A few months ago, Sr. Jean Rose, the President of the CSJ Community,

 

Sr. Jean Rosemarynoski, CSJ and Sr. Betty Suther, CSJ

conveyed to me through Sr. Betty Suther--who is my mentor and also the Novice Mistress--that it would be prudent for me to come and stay with the Sisters for an extended period, longer than the usual week during Assembly, so that I could be sure I knew "what I was signing up for."  So, although it took quite a bit of planning, I said I would come for the entire month of June.

When I told Sr. Dian, my friend in Cartersville, about this, she suggested that I stay even longer, so that I could attend the annual Theological Institute, and so I am here until the middle of July.

When I first arrived, all the Candidates were here, 1st and 2nd year, for 2 days of classes before the Annual Assembly started, and then once it began (evening of June 6th), there was the usual whirlwind of activities and meetings until the final event, which was the celebration of our 9 Jubilarians on Sunday, June 10th.  Very soon after that, however, all the Sisters who had come home for the Assembly left, and life settled down to what is normal for the Community.

I am staying at the Manna Retreat House (which was the original Motherhouse when the Sisters first arrived here from Rochester NY in 1884), which is just a few blocks from the current Motherhouse.  This is what my typical day is like, so far:  I get up at 6:00am (although the Sisters are free to get up whenever they want/need to), and if there is Daily Mass at 7:00am in the church right next door (Our Lady of Perpetual Help!), I like to go.  After Mass, I come back for a simple breakfast here, although I could go up to the Motherhouse if I want to for the huge breakfasts they serve there... but I like quiet in the morning, so I just stay here.

After breakfast, the house is quiet until about 9:00am, because, unless they have to go out, that's personal private prayer time for the Sisters.  At 9:00am, I currently have the responsibility of going downstairs and putting away all the breakfast stuff, and then checking in with our cook, Jackie, to see if any help is needed.  Usually I stay in the Kitchen for an hour or so, doing whatever she wants, and then I am free to do other things.  When there is a retreat in progress, however, and we have guests in the house, there is much more kitchen work to be done because we are feeding a lot more people than usual.  

Sr. Marcia asked me to help her with her project, compiling for future publication, the papers of Sr. Bette Moslander, who was President of the Congregation from 1975 to 1983, during a time of great change for the Congregation as they continued to evolve as as result of the changes in religious life called for by Vatican II.  She was an amazing visionary, and had a tremendous positive influence on what the Congregation has become, as they have positioned themselves to respond to today's needs in the Church and the world.  

So, I have been working on that, and in addition, I spent some time at the Motherhouse helping at the Reception Desk, I served juice and coffee during the Jubilee Brunch, I was sent to help with the Food Bank at the Cloud County Resource Center, to play Bingo with the middle school girls attending our Discover Camp, and I helped transport people to the airport--all kinds of odd jobs!  Besides that, of course I have to continue my studies in the Formation Program (we have classes once a month).

Lunch is around noon, and then we wash the dishes and resume our work, and many Sisters like to take a nap after lunch if they are free--and I enjoy naps too!  Supper is usually 5:30, and again, we wash the dishes and close the Kitchen for the night, and Community Prayer in the Sisters' Chapel is held at 6:15 every evening (except on Sunday nights, I have heard they usually watch 60 Minutes, haha!)

After that, everyone pretty much retires to their rooms to do whatever they want, and go to sleep whenever they want.  In general, the convent is pretty quiet most of the time, but there are no rules about that (like the Grand Silence we had in the Domincans after Night Prayer)--other than being considerate when you are in areas where people's bedrooms are.    

Even though I have not received a letter formally accepting me into the Novitiate, it's apparent that they are assuming that I am coming, which amazed me:  I was told where my room will be in the "cloister" area of the building--although they don't call it that--and I was encouraged to go back and look at it, measure it, and decide how I want to arrange the furniture and/or fit in anything I intend to bring with me when I finally move here from Georgia.  Today, I was given a mailbox in the office, too.  I had only been back to look at my room once, but this morning, Sr. Marcia asked me what I might want to get rid of, or need from storage, and when I told her that I was waiting until I got a letter from Sr. Jean Rose, she said she would speak to her about me today--and this afternoon I got a very sweet letter from Sr. Jean Rose, a "don't worry" letter, so--hard as it is for me to believe--I think this is REALLY HAPPENING!  

I am still pretty much in shock, frankly.  A little over 2 years ago, on the evening of March 10, 2016, I begged God to give me a second chance at religious life--and as you probably know, He sent me here specifically... and to my amazement, here I am.  An unbelievable miracle, that I keep thanking Him for every day. 

On the evening of June 24th, I will begin my annual retreat; I registered for the Lace Retreat, during which I will be taught to make the traditional bobbin lace, which the Sisters used to teach to women back in the 1600s, so that they could sell it and earn money to help support their families.  I am really looking forward to learning this ancient craft, and of course also deepening my relationship with God during this special week of prayer and reflection.  

Applying to Enter the Novitiate

+

JMJ

+

I absolutely can't believe that I have reached the point where it is appropriate for me to ask the President of the Sisters of St. Joseph if I may enter their Novitiate.  What am I saying?  I can't believe it's even possible that I could be considered to become a Canonical Sister!!!!

+ Lord, you have led me on such an amazing journey: I bless You, I thank You, I adore You!

I was awake for quite a while last night, and--as is my habit--I was praying during much of that time.  The result is that I reformulated my letter this morning (4th revision!), to make it much shorter, more direct, more succinct.  I sent the text to Sr. Betty, the Novice Mistress, and she told me to print it, sign it, and bring it!

So, here it is:  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 2018

Dear Sr. Jean Rose:

I am writing to ask permission to enter the Novitiate of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Concordia KS.  

In the course of my studies with the Sisters, I have learned that I already possess the charism of the Sisters of St. Joseph. Without recognizing it as such, my entire professional life was characterized by striving to live the Ignatian ministry of presence.  As I review my life, I notice how important it was for me--in every encounter with my staff and especially the students with whom I worked--to embody love for them. I believe that this was God’s gift to me, to have such a strong desire to be the incarnation of love for those I served, even before I knew Him. Nothing was more important to me, and it was what I stressed continually to my staff: “Yes, I expect you to be competent and efficient--but more than anything, to love them--each and every person who comes into the Library to seek your assistance.”

You already know the incredible story of how God led me directly to the Sisters of St. Joseph of Concordia, when I begged Him to give me another chance to have a consecrated life. I promised that night, that if He would give me what I considered to be  impossible, that I would do whatever He wanted--and ever since then, I have been working toward honoring that commitment.

To put it plainly, I do not want to face Him at the end of my life, and have to admit, “Yes, Lord: I mostly did try to do Your work in the world, but I know that I could have done more--I could have given you everything, my entire life devoted to Your service!  But instead, I chose to keep the beautiful house You gave me, keep the privileges, the comfort and the complete freedom to do exactly as I pleased, because it was easier and more pleasant to do what I wanted.”  I would not be surprised to hear Him say something like, “Then you already know what the consequences are: you chose not to be totally one with Me, and thus it will be, through all Eternity.” And I will have nothing to say in reply, because I know He is just.

Please allow me to do what my heart tells me I want to do, and must do.

Yours in Christ’s love,

Carol Goodson

Acatamiento: The Experience of the Transcendent God

+JMJ+

In his Spiritual Diary, St. Ignatius of Loyola used the word "acatamiento," which is virtually untranslatable to English, to express his "...heightened awareness of the transcendental personal presence of God. It is a felt mood of mind and heart...."*

Reflecting on the times in my own life when I have been aware of God's Presence to me, I realize how easy it is to forget such experiences as they recede into personal history. They are important, moments to be savored and treasured, and I don't want to forget them! To that end, I decided I would try, when I have time and am in the mood, to write about some of them. Therefore, this blog entry will periodically be revised as I add additional memories to it. Probably no one will ever read it but me, but that's OK!

 
1. September 11, 1981: God comes to me on the bus! When I first moved to Georgia in 1980, I came with a friend/roommate, who, in addition to being an alcoholic, was a very troubled person in general.  I was pretty troubled myself at that time: I had gotten divorced in November 1977 after a very short and unhappy marriage, and following my bitter experience with marriage, I had arbitrarily decided to try out being a lesbian, since I felt like I didn't want to be around men again, ever!  Amazing as this sounds, at that time I honestly believed that you could actually choose your sexuality, and I decided I would be gay! So, after I got divorced, Marie (she is dead now, so I will call her by her real name) had become my lesbian lover, and my "project," as I determined that I would try to fix her life and turn her into a happier, more confident and functional person. 

I now see how controlling and manipulative this was, but whenever Marie wanted to do anything that seemed to me to be a positive move, I encouraged her in it.  For example, she expressed interest in getting a Master's degree, but believed that she was not smart enough to do it. I, however, knew that anyone with normal intelligence and determination could get a Master's degree, and in order to make this happen for her, I signed up to take the first course in her program too, in order to ease her into it by going with her and doing the same work. When she announced that she wanted to stop smoking, I agreed to stop smoking too, because I knew that she would never be able to do it if she had to live with a smoker.  Then, when she said she wanted to move to Georgia (where my parents had recently relocated), I agreed to that too--my secret motive being getting her away from her heavy-drinking friends and the gay bar scene in St. Louis. 

Once we moved, she immediately got a teaching job, but in a fundamentalist Christian school.  During the first or second week she was there, one of her students very aggressively recruited her to come to church with her. She was quite incensed, and told the student that she was Catholic.  She really wasn't; although she had been raised Catholic, she had not actually practiced her Faith for many years.  But when she came home that night and told me about this, to my great surprise, she said she wanted to go back to the Catholic Church. 

As usual, I immediately agreed to accompany her, because--despite being an atheist myself--I had the culturally conditioned assumption that going to church was "a good thing," the sort of activity that normal adults participated in.  It was only later that night, that I suddenly realized that this was something I just didn't think I could stomach.  Being a non-believer, the thought of having to attend church and pretend to a belief I did not have, seemed intolerable to me.  I did not know what to do, and I definitely did not want to disappoint her by telling her that I just couldn't do this... but I had one idea.  That night, and the following night, right before going to sleep, I said, "God, if You are really there, make me believe in You, because I don't." That was the extent of my effort: two snarky attempts, and I stopped.

A couple days after this, my boss sent me to the Georgia State University Bookstore to meet with one of their Book Buyers, who had promised to donate some books to the library where I was then working.  I arrived early, and while waiting for the Buyer to appear, I wandered around the store, enjoying the experience of being in a college bookstore again after so many years.  I found myself near the Religion Section, and as I looked over the titles, I laughed to see all the miscellaneous stuff that such bookstores typically classify as "Religion."  I noticed one book by an author I recognized, Thomas Merton. I had read his autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain, when I was in high school, and had liked it.  Impulsively, I bought the book, The Ascent to Truth, which is about St. John of the Cross.

I put the book in my purse and forgot about it until I was on the bus riding home from work that night.  Bored, I took it out and started reading it.  Although I still have this book, I have never been able to identify the sentence I read--but I read something, and all of a sudden, there was this amazing sensation of warmth that came over me, starting at my head and flowing down to my toes.  I can't explain it, but I realized I was in the presence of God, and in one second, I changed from a non-believer into a believer.

Fortunately, I was near my stop, because I was about to fall apart... I stumbled off the bus to my car, threw myself into the driver's seat, and began to sob uncontrollably with pure JOY;  I knew that I had finally found what I had been seeking, without knowing it--all at once, everything in my life seemed to make sense, and I was aware of being completely happy for the first time ever.  When I finally composed myself, I started the car and went home.  The experience was too profound to share with anyone, but I told Marie that I would call the local Catholic Church and request to begin instructions to enter the Church, which I did the next day.

I met with Fr. Frederick Flaherty, M.S., the pastor, the following week. RCIA barely existed back then, and this was a small parish, so he taught me one-on-one.  I soaked up everything I learned like a greedy sponge:  I loved EVERYTHING about the Catholic Faith, and I begged him to move up my First Communion and Confirmation, because I wanted to receive the Eucharist desperately.  He did escalate it slightly, and I was received into the Church on December 5, 1981.

I will reserve for the next story, another miracle God gave me in answer to prayer, which released me from my immoral relationship, which, of course, I had to leave behind when I accepted the truths of Catholicism. It's so amazing, though, to contemplate the fact that He was able to use an objectively sinful relationship to bring me to Him!  It is so absolutely true that He can use anything at all for the good of those who love Him.

2.  January 1982: God sends me a priest

Marie and I started attending Mass weekly once I began instructions.  We also found a group for gay Catholics called Dignity, which met in Atlanta, and we frequently attended their meetings. The priest who was leading that group, Fr. Henry Gracz, told me that it was OK to be actively gay and Catholic, and since I was quite naive at that time, I believed him--a priest would never tell you anything that wasn't true, right?

Thus, when it was time to make my General Confession prior to being received as a Catholic, I did not include any mention of my relationship to Fr. Flaherty.  However, once I actually became a Catholic, I started to question the validity of what Fr. Gracz had told me.  I had just finished a pretty comprehensive course on Church teachings, and I knew what was taught about sexual expression outside of marriage.  As time went on, I began to feel more and more uncomfortable, and began to avoid sex with Marie, although--since it was actually pretty rare--she didn't seem to notice.  However, I could not bear to admit to Fr. Flaherty that I had not been totally honest with him, because we had started to become close friends and I valued the relationship I had with him very much.

The same week I was received into the Church, I had begun attending Daily Mass at the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Atlanta, which was right down the street from where I worked.  I also became very devoted to prayer, and since I was able to find an isolated place to go in my workplace, I quickly got into the habit of using most of my lunch hour for spiritual reading and prayer.  Anyway, about a month after I had become Catholic, early in January 1982, I began praying that God would send me a priest I did not know, so I could confess my sin, be absolved, and end the physical part of my relationship with Marie.  By that time, I had begun to accept the fact that I was not gay anyway, and although I felt I really did love her, I was strongly driven to conform completely to Church teaching.

After about a week of making this special request to God, Atlanta was hit with an historic blizzard on January 12, 1982. Although our office closed early that day, it was not early enough, and I stood at my usual bus stop for about two hours before the MARTA buses finally stopped running altogether.  My car was parked far away in College Park, and I had no way to get home.  Fortunately, anticipating the predicted weather, I had dressed very warmly--however, I had no idea what to do. I wandered around the streets of downtown Atlanta with a lot of other bewildered people for hours, each of us asking others what to do, but no one had any answers.  I remember going to an ATM and getting some cash out, thinking that I might end up in a hotel, although I knew I couldn't afford it.  There was a Kroger store downtown at that time, and I bought a loaf of bread and some bologna!

Finally, I remembered the Central Presbyterian Night Shelter for the homeless, which was only a few blocks from where I worked.  I had been planning to volunteer there, but had not yet gotten around to it.  I arrived just in time to be ushered in, along with a big line of homeless men waiting to spend the night there.  As soon as I got inside, the handful of volunteers who'd made it that night recognized that I, wearing my London Fog raincoat, was not a homeless person!  Since most of the scheduled staff had not been able to get there because of the weather, they asked me to help make sandwiches and get the men settled for the night. I gave them my bread and bologna, and got started. The person in charge introduced himself as Father North--and I realized immediately that here was the priest I had asked God to send me!  When I got a chance, I quietly told him that I was a Catholic, and would he mind hearing my Confession later that night, when things quieted down. About 2:00am, he invited me to sit with him, I confessed and he absolved me--although he also said that it wasn't a huge sin to be gay and Catholic!

I was absolutely in a state of profound joy--euphoria, really--having this heavy burden on my conscience lifted, and I spent the rest of the night talking to the men who couldn't sleep. All of us had to clear out at dawn, and I will never forget how I felt coming out into the bright sunlight on all that ice and snow, feeling as though I was deeply changed, and that life would never be the same again.

The buses had started running again, and I quickly got on one. It was amazing to see thousands of cars abandoned all along the interstate from the night before.  Although my car was covered when I got to the Park 'n Ride, I was able to clear it off and get it started, and I made it home very slowly, without incident.  I was floating on a cloud, but of course I could not tell Marie what had just happened to me.  It was not very long after that, perhaps a month or so, when I began to have the first thoughts that perhaps--unbelievable as it seemed--I might possibly have a vocation to religious life.

*Acatamiento, Ignatian reverence in history and contemporary cultureby O'Neill, Charles Edwards.  https://archive.org/details/acatamientoignat81onei