"Christian optimism is not a sugary optimism, nor is it a mere human confidence that everything will turn out all right. It is an optimism that sinks its roots into an awareness of our freedom, and the sure knowledge of the power of grace. It is an optimism that leads us to make demands on ourselves, to struggle to respond at every moment to God's call."
–St. Josemaria Escriva
***
The real estate listing for my home here in Vermont went live last week. A. and I already had to leave the house several times—with the dog—to make way for an Open House and individual showings. It’s inconvenient but also exciting to see things moving along. No takers so far, but D., my real estate agent, is optimistic.
But my excitement about the home sale pales compared to seeing A.’s ongoing conversion, which happens at breakneck speed. We talk a lot about the faith now, even more than before. Today, I tell him to expect some supernatural experiences because, well, “You are my son, after all.” And now that he is making a conscious effort at communion with God, things are bound to happen.
VatiGod*, when A. was younger, your Holy Spirit was so strong in him. A number of times, you even used him as a messenger for me. I remember that summer day in 2005 when he was two and had just learned to speak somewhat coherently. At the time, I was in severe spiritual desolation. I felt I had lost my close connection with you, VatiGod; I couldn’t feel or hear you anymore. Of course, that was due to my own behavior, me turning away from you, but that realization didn’t come until many years later.
On that day, I woke up around 5:00 AM in great distress and headed out to one of my favorite spots in nature, a little wooded area with a stream and a waterfall near our home.
For nearly an hour, I shouted at you, Vati: “Where are you, God? Why have you left me? Why aren’t you talking to me anymore?” I asked you to give me a sign, any sign, that you were still there, watching over me, listening.
When I got home around 6:00 AM, my husband was still asleep, and I took my clothes off and was about to go back to bed when A. came toddling out of his room, holding something small in his pudgy little hand.
He smiled. “Here, Mommy, for you. Has meaning.”
I was flabbergasted. “Meaning” seemed like a pretty big word for such a tiny tot. I took the object from his hand, and it was a shiny penny, which of course said, In God We Trust. What an amazing and wonderful sign, VatiGod!
Back to the present. When I tell A. that he might have supernatural experiences, he gives me a sheepish look. “Well, I kind of already had one. I didn’t want to tell you about it because I thought at the time that I was going insane. I was in the shower, agonizing over all this God stuff and how to do this. And all of a sudden, there was this voice in my mind—a huge, booming voice that made me feel like my head was going to explode. And this deep, booming voice said, ‘IT’S A LEAP OF FAITH!’ I honestly thought I was going mad, but now I’m not so sure.”
Oh my gosh! I squeal in excitement. Your own voice, VatiGod, speaking directly to my son! You are absolutely incredible. How much you long to connect with us, that you will even talk directly to us if you think we need that kind of push. I love you so much. How great is our God!
A. and I keep talking for hours, about many things, including leaps of faith and how important it is to just trust in God and follow him without a safety net, without assurances, like my decision to drop everything and move to Steubenville.
And then I get my own nudge. “Don’t just talk about leaps of faith,” the Holy Spirit whispers in my mind, “show him what a real leap of faith looks like.”
“How?”
“You know how,” He says. “You know.”
I do.
I go into my office and make a few back-of-the-envelope calculations. Then I take out my phone and call K., telling him I will forgo the extra $100,000 I could get by selling the house, the money I wanted to be my retirement fund. I tell him I will sell him the house for the minimum amount I need to pay off the old mortgage and buy the new home. It’s still a lot, but he says he’ll make it work.
He’s so surprised and exhilarated, I just know I’m doing the right thing. A., who has followed the drama with a stunned look on his face, thinks so too. Another reason to be grateful, VatiGod. Thank you for helping me take those leaps of faith and doing your will without questioning it. I’ll do my best to keep going.
*“Vati” means “Daddy” in German and is pronounced “Fuh-tee.”