The earliest memory I have of religion is my parents arguing over it. My dad is a cradle Catholic and my mother was not Catholic.
We attended services with my mother when we were little,but then one by one we decided to attend Mass with our dad. Eventually, we all became Catholic. My parents no longer fought over religion, but my mother was still very much against the Church.
Years passed and my dad continued to pray for my mother to accept his love for the Church and the Eucharist. My sisters and brother never imagined that our dad’s love of the Church, love for our mother, and faith in the power of prayer would work a miracle that he wanted so desperately.
One Mother’s Day, my mother announced she would be attending Mass with us, saying it was because my dad’s parents were visiting. During the service, however, our priest surprised us all by announcing, “The prayers of a very special man are being answered this day.”
My dad burst into tears; at that very moment, he knew Our Lord had granted him a miracle. A miracle none of us could have known was in the making. For the past few months, our priest explained, our mother had been receiving instructions from him and now was ready to join the Church. When my mother received Holy Eucharist that day, there wasn’t a dry eye in the church.