“‘Beloved’, said the Glorious One, ‘unless thy desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly. For all find what they truly seek.’” - C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle

I have vivid memories of my grandmother clutching the beads of her rosary, imploring the Blessed Mother to guide and protect our family, and my other grandma singing beautiful Latin songs. They lived far from each other, but they had similar values and the same beautiful painting of the Sacred Heart. While I deeply loved my grandmas, as a child I did not fully grasp the eternal significance of the earnest prayers they have made on my behalf. 

Like many families in my native Brazil, I grew up in a Catholic family and attended a Catholic school during my formative years. I witnessed my parents and grandparents partaking in the Sacraments, saying their Catholic prayers, and living out a relationship with God. I especially fondly remember both of my grandmothers’ joyful disposition; in all circumstances, they were filled with inexplicable joy.

My family had an active faith life – my mother and grandmothers served at the church and frequently attended Mass. While these practices were the norm, my parents never forced their faith on me and never pushed me to participate in spiritual activities. This worked well in my favour – I was an athlete and much of my free time was allocated for sports competitions or hanging out with my friends. By the time I was a teenager, I had little interest in my faith and lacked the desire to go to church. 

At the time, my mother was also serving at our parish, teaching women how to make crafts that they can sell as an extra source of income. I accompanied my mom during these sessions and often spent time at the church’s garden, eventually getting to know the parish priest. He was warm and tender-hearted, often giving spiritual guidance and answering questions that I had about Jesus. I didn’t realize then how many seeds of the faith were starting to take root in my heart.

Around this time, my friends started to prepare to receive their Holy Communion. Because they were doing it, I participated in catechism classes so I can prepare for the sacrament too. On the day of my first Communion, I received a call from my grandmother to wish me well and to tell me she had a gift for me, and she remarked how special and beautiful this holy day is. Later that day, she suffered a stroke. I later found out that she was going to gift me one of her rosaries.

She wasn’t quite the same after the stroke, and suffered much because of it. Despite her failing health, however, her joyful disposition was unchanged. I could never quite understand how she bore her suffering with remarkable joy. She eventually passed away, and I will never forget how her faith shaped how she lived. 

In high school, we started to learn about world religions. I was fascinated to learn that there were different ways to practice faith. I learned about Buddhism, Shinto, Hinduism and visited a few temples. Even though all these expressions of faith made some sense, there was something off: they didn’t reflect the joy my grandmothers had. I considered myself an Agnostic because I couldn’t prove God’s existence.

After some reflection, I became convinced that Christianity was true and eventually started attending a Protestant church. God knows me very well; during this time, He introduced me to the gift that is C. S. Lewis. I started with “Narnia” and “Screwtape Letters”, but soon I was reading his theological work, including: “The Problem of Pain” and “Mere Christianity”. I also learned about J.R.R. Tolkien, and became fascinated with all the adventures of Middle Earth. 

This literary journey had me thinking: my favorite authors were friends and believed in Jesus and also wrote so many wonderful books. I need to know their stories. I came across “The Most Reluctant Convert” and I saw myself asking the same questions: Why do we suffer? Was Jesus God? Does God really love us? Why do we die? I started to read Tolkien’s biography and picked up G.K. Chesterton’s theological works.

Fast forward a few years, I met my husband and we both moved to Canada. I was still hungry for knowledge but pride and fear were always in my mind. I was thinking about my grandmothers’ spiritual influence. I struggled with the Catholic sacrament of confession, wondering how a sinful man (the priest) can forgive and not judge. I went on a quest to learn more about Catholicism and better understand the source of my grandmothers’ inexplicable joy. 

Through online catechism classes, I started to learn and admire the beautiful examples of Aquinas, Augustine, St. Thérèse, JPII, and St. Josemaría. I dove into Church history and learned about martyrs. I had access to this same faith my whole life, but why were these people so captivated by it? I was insatiably curious. By the grace of God, I actually found answers to questions I realized I had been asking my whole life.

It dawned on me: we can not love what we do not know or understand. Jesus and the Church were in front of me this whole time, but I didn’t truly know or understand what it was actually about.

“It is Jesus that you seek when you dream of happiness; He is waiting for you when nothing else you find satisfies you; He is the beauty to which you are so attracted; it is He who provoked you with that thirst for fullness that will not let you settle for compromise…” - Pope St. John Paul II

My life started to change. I marvelled at everything I was learning. I could not escape the truth, and the beauty of all that I had just discovered. Everything I was searching for, was right here in front of me this whole time. The prayers offered on my behalf by my mother and grandmothers – they were not in vain. They planted the seeds early in my life, and I am utterly grateful for it.

I realized that it was time to get back into the church, and I found a nearby parish to attend. As soon as I walked through the doors, I felt at home. The priest at the church even had the same warmth and jovial personality as the priest I met at the garden back in Brazil. It was all such a gift.

No sooner than I started to feel at home at the parish did my husband and I receive a letter that our landlord was planning to sell our apartment. Sad to leave our home and this new parish, I pleaded with God to reveal to me another parish family. Soon enough, God gave us the opportunity to buy our first home. Our new house was directly in the middle of two great parishes and I was leaning towards attending Our Lady of Fatima when I got confirmation from God that I was in the right place: I randomly received a message from a friend that she took my prayer intentions to Fatima, Portugal, and my mom recently purchased a beautiful statue of our Lady of Fatima as a gift for me. Neither of them knew that I was asking God to point me to a new parish.

One day, I received a letter with a copy of “The Storm in the Sea of Galilee” by Rembrandt and I made it my computer background. Looking at the image,  I can see myself in that boat in the middle of the storm. All the chaos and despair in the eyes of those men were like the doubt and fear of not understanding why I felt so empty. But Jesus was always there, and you only needed to call on Him. 

I can not take for granted the seeds of faith my mother and grandmothers planted in my heart. The vivid memories of them saying rosaries on my behalf and all the songs they sang will remain with me forever. I, too, have started to say a daily rosary just like they always have. They have given me an incredible legacy and I pray that it is something I can continue to pass on to later generations. Now I finally understand that unmistakable joy that they always had, regardless of the circumstances that they were in. 

And for the first time in my life – I have this joy now too.