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Living a Life of Authentic Faith

When faced with the question “Why am I Catholic?”, sometimes it is easier to project a

response along the lines of “My parents are Catholic, so they baptized me.” For many, especially

kids my age, that is the case. From a young age, attending Mass every Sunday morning was a

weekly activity for my family. My brothers and I would wake up early, dress in our nice church

clothes, and jump into the backseat of my mom’s silver minivan to get ready for the fifteen-

minute drive to our home parish, Saint Alphonsus. The same routine occurred weekly, except for

the occasional Saturday night Masses. There was no question whether we would go to Mass, and

there was no question whether we would participate in the Mass. Personally, I loved going to

Mass when I was younger because I loved singing with the choir. Our choir director chose the

best songs, and I gleamed on the altar with the attention of the congregation.

The answer to this question has changed with me as I have grown up. Mass has become

less of going to sing beautiful songs and more of going to pray and sit in the presence of the

God’s goodness. When I was nine years old, my dad was diagnosed with Chronic Lyme Disease

after four years of misdiagnosis. He tried going on multiple medications and treatments,

including IV and oral antibiotics and bee venom therapy. During this time, he was on long-term

disability from work for 18 months, and my family’s lifestyle changed. Constant worry and the

fear of hospitalization, or worse, especially as a little girl, was scary. Growing up with a dad who

was present and tried the best he could but was easily fatigued and in pain was difficult. I never

learned to ride a bike because he was in and out of hospital beds, and he could not attend my

sporting events because it ached too much to move from his bed. In this state of plight, we went

to Mass as much as we could to pray for him. Being so young, I did not fully understand the
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terms of his diagnosis. Sometimes, I would wake up in the morning, and my brothers or grandma

would inform me that my mom had to take my dad to the hospital for another test. Months of

tests, overnight hospital stays, and scary circumstances were coincided with devout faith and

prayer.

In 2015, still on medication, my dad had the opportunity to go on a pilgrimage to

Lourdes, France as a malade to visit the healing waters, where Mary appeared to Saint

Bernadette. In 1858, Saint Bernadette witnessed the Blessed Mother eighteen separate times in

Lourdes, and Mary requested that Bernadette drink from the muddy water flowing in the spring.

The next day, this water ran clear, and Mary instructed Bernadette to build a chapel where the

apparition had taken place. Lourdes is the most visited pilgrimage site in the world because it is

believed that the water from the grotto can heal those that are sick. Many travel to this spot every

year to be cured from illness, and my dad did as well. While he did not receive physical healing,

he received spiritual healing. The Lord provided his comfort and peace, and although my dad

was still in agony, he had come to terms with his diagnosis. A saying he lives by is “God will not

face me with anything I cannot handle,” and he stuck by that in his battle. Throughout his illness

and still today, my dad has stayed resilient in his fight, and trusting in God has given him, and

my whole family, the peace to accept the things we cannot change. I am Catholic because of the

perseverance the Heavenly Father has graced my family with, and the blessings he has given us

through our pain. God is the ultimate Provider and Father, and He has the goodness to be our

refuge and give us strength in times of strife. I am so thankful to God for giving my fun, loving

dad back to me, and I know that now and always, God is with me wherever I go.