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The Great Feast of Pentecost
I figure today, being Pentecost would be a good day to tell you all about my ‘aha’ moment, or the day I knew I had to be Catholic.
I was at a bird festival in Bisbee, a small artsy, mining community in southern Arizona, attempting to sell my art. During the field trips and presentations things would get kind of quiet so I had an opportunity to read a book on Catholicism that a friend had loaned me. Although this book has subsequently been criticized as not being very orthodox, it was the first time I had heard about Catholicism from a Catholic source. Like St. Paul, I felt the scales dropping from my eyes and I had the grace to see that the Catholic Church is what she claims to be, and I knew that I had to belong. That was my ‘aha’ moment.
At the end of the day, I was headed to my vehicle, and I saw an elderly lady wearing a white blouse and a long red skirt with a large white sun hat asking some of the birders for something. I could seem them refusing and I knew that it was I who had to give her what ever she wanted. She asked me for a ride home. So, I agreed to give her a ride home. “God bless you”, she said.
She lived a number of miles out of town. I asked her what her name was and she said, “Sister Maria”.
“Oh, you must be Catholic”, I replied, utilizing my new found knowledge of the Catholic propensity to the name ‘Mary’.
“No”, she said, and went on in a thick accent about being an evangelist and Martin Luther and the BVM crying to him one day. She insisted that I take her a few miles past her house to ‘Meer-ack-luh’ valley. It was formerly a bible college and she kept repeating that I could get two free years of bible study there.
We arrived at Miracle Valley. The place looked abandoned. “I could get two years of free bible study there”, she said. We headed back down the highway to her place.
Upon arrival at a small farm house she proceded to show me an older model Ford truck. It was painted red, and on the tail gate instead of ‘FORD’, it said ‘FAITH’ in large, block, white letters. She opened the cab. Everything was red inside it, the dash, the floor, the upholstery, everything. “Beautiful, beautiful”, she said.
We then went over to a red school bus. It had “JESUS IS LORD” painted in white letters on the side. She took me inside. Again, everything was red. The carpet on the floor, the carpet on the walls, the curtains, everything. “Beautiful, beautiful”, she kept repeating to herself.
It was time to go, so she assured me once again that I could get two years free bible study at Meer-ack-luh Valley and that she would send me some healing videos from there. She gave me a kiss on my forehead good bye and I drove back to town.
I came into Bisbee to a glowing orange sunset. As I turned up Tombstone Canyon about 80 vultures where circling into there overnight roost. Struck by this image, I said to our Lord, “God, you sure do speak to us in mysterious ways”.
And that’s what happened the day I knew that I had to be Catholic.
I figure today, being Pentecost would be a good day to tell you all about my ‘aha’ moment, or the day I knew I had to be Catholic.
I was at a bird festival in Bisbee, a small artsy, mining community in southern Arizona, attempting to sell my art. During the field trips and presentations things would get kind of quiet so I had an opportunity to read a book on Catholicism that a friend had loaned me. Although this book has subsequently been criticized as not being very orthodox, it was the first time I had heard about Catholicism from a Catholic source. Like St. Paul, I felt the scales dropping from my eyes and I had the grace to see that the Catholic Church is what she claims to be, and I knew that I had to belong. That was my ‘aha’ moment.
At the end of the day, I was headed to my vehicle, and I saw an elderly lady wearing a white blouse and a long red skirt with a large white sun hat asking some of the birders for something. I could seem them refusing and I knew that it was I who had to give her what ever she wanted. She asked me for a ride home. So, I agreed to give her a ride home. “God bless you”, she said.
She lived a number of miles out of town. I asked her what her name was and she said, “Sister Maria”.
“Oh, you must be Catholic”, I replied, utilizing my new found knowledge of the Catholic propensity to the name ‘Mary’.
“No”, she said, and went on in a thick accent about being an evangelist and Martin Luther and the BVM crying to him one day. She insisted that I take her a few miles past her house to ‘Meer-ack-luh’ valley. It was formerly a bible college and she kept repeating that I could get two free years of bible study there.
We arrived at Miracle Valley. The place looked abandoned. “I could get two years of free bible study there”, she said. We headed back down the highway to her place.
Upon arrival at a small farm house she proceded to show me an older model Ford truck. It was painted red, and on the tail gate instead of ‘FORD’, it said ‘FAITH’ in large, block, white letters. She opened the cab. Everything was red inside it, the dash, the floor, the upholstery, everything. “Beautiful, beautiful”, she said.
We then went over to a red school bus. It had “JESUS IS LORD” painted in white letters on the side. She took me inside. Again, everything was red. The carpet on the floor, the carpet on the walls, the curtains, everything. “Beautiful, beautiful”, she kept repeating to herself.
It was time to go, so she assured me once again that I could get two years free bible study at Meer-ack-luh Valley and that she would send me some healing videos from there. She gave me a kiss on my forehead good bye and I drove back to town.
I came into Bisbee to a glowing orange sunset. As I turned up Tombstone Canyon about 80 vultures where circling into there overnight roost. Struck by this image, I said to our Lord, “God, you sure do speak to us in mysterious ways”.
And that’s what happened the day I knew that I had to be Catholic.
