What My 10-Year-Old Taught Me About God's Mercy

In light of the recent tragedies over the past few weeks, there have been lots of conversations happening in our home. Hearts are heavy, and we’re left wondering where to go from here.

Particularly, we’re left wondering what we can do as Catholics, as Christians.

I’ve pondered this question. My husband and I have talked with our children about it. We know the world is broken and full of sin. We’ve discussed how evil can infiltrate hearts and minds over time and through various means.

But it was a question from my youngest that completely opened my eyes to a key aspect of our faith that I had almost forgotten.

He had just come in from playing outside. He plopped down on the couch as I walked around tidying up the house. Conversation surrounding current events had become commonplace over the last few weeks, and they were happening even while I tended to household chores.

I can’t remember what preceded his question now, just the question itself that will forever be etched on my heart.

He looked up at me with his big, blue eyes and asked, “What will happen to the man who killed Charlie Kirk?”

Without hesitation (and to my embarrassment), I replied, “He’s going to Hell.”

See, I had heard talk of authorities pursuing the death penalty. I had seen people I respected calling for the death penalty. I was so hurt by the evil that this man had done that I almost subconsciously went along with the world and assumed his fate.

It was my 10-year-old son’s response that changed my heart and reminded me of what I knew but had so quickly forgotten.

He said, “You don’t know that, Mom.”

I stopped in my tracks. I put the kitchen towel down on the coffee table and sat next to him, asking him to explain.

He went on to tell me how his teacher had shared with him and his classmates a story of two great saints, Maria Goretti and Alessandro Serenelli. He told me how Alessandro had killed the innocent, 11-year-old Maria, but that before she died, she forgave her killer and expressed that she wanted him in Heaven with her forever.

After Maria’s death, Alessandro went on to serve a 30-year sentence. One night, six years into his prison sentence, Maria appeared to Alessandro in a dream. She appeared in a garden, picking 14 white lilies, and handed them to him one by one. This gesture of love and forgiveness was the beginning of Alessandro’s transformation and conversion.

His behavior became so docile, and his transformation was so dramatic, that he was released three years early. Shortly after his release, he sought out and received the forgiveness of Maria’s mother. He eventually joined the Capuchin Franciscans and, as a lay brother, worked as a gardener, porter, and general laborer. He died in the peace of Christ, with the love and admiration of those who knew him, at the Cappuchin convent at Macerata, Italy, on May 6, 1970 (mariagoretti.com).

It wasn’t that I didn’t know the power of repentance and of God’s love and mercy. It wasn’t that I didn’t know that there is hope for all souls who repent and radically reorient their lives to Jesus Christ.

It was that I had been so focused on worldly things that I had forgotten.

But praise God, it was the childlike faith of my fifth-grader that refreshed my soul and fixed my eyes back on Christ and His redeeming love.

It was his teacher who taught a lesson with the love of Christ, which poured into my son’s soul and, therefore, my soul.

It was the Body of Christ at work.

So, it leads me back to my original question: where do we go from here?

My answer?

We pray. We pray like we believe. We pray like we know its power. We pray for the souls of the innocent. And we pray for the souls of the wicked. We pray for conversions.

We love our enemies. We forgive like Jesus did on the cross. And we keep sharing stories of His love and mercy.

“Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied to him, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” (Luke 23:40–43)

SOURCES

mariagoretti.com

The Day I Discovered God (My Reversion Story)

It was my junior year of college. I still remember the sinking feeling in my stomach as I sat in my bedroom in the house I shared with four of my closest college roommates. I don’t recall exactly what I was doing at that particular moment, but the feeling inside of me is one I will never forget.

On the verge of tears, an intense feeling of loneliness, fear, and anxiety enveloped me. I had never experienced anything like it before.

Up to that point in my college career, I was having the time of my life. I was studying hard (being a student always came fairly easily to me), excelling in my classes, staying up partying way too late, and sleeping until Noon on the weekends. Life was good. Life was … easy.

I had spent the first two years of my college career living in a dorm, where I was constantly surrounded by my peers. The halls were always filled with people coming and going, laughter, music, and a strong sense of community.

We were all on the same page, per se, as full-time students with lots of free time on our hands and very little responsibility.

Fast forward two years, and here I was sitting in my bedroom all alone in a house that suddenly felt cold and way too quiet. As college juniors, my roommates and I were on completely different schedules, which meant we were rarely home at the same time.

And as juniors, we were entering into our core classes to complete our degrees. This meant that the work was getting more demanding and graduation was within sight.

And suddenly here I was, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I knew what was happening. I was beginning to feel the pressure of entering adulthood. Life outside of college. The real world.

Enter: Anxiety.

I was raised Catholic, a “Cradle Catholic” as they say. I received all of the sacraments. I grew up going to Mass every weekend, and even went with my parents often to Mass at the parish next to my university. I didn’t mind going to Mass, but I admit I did find it a bit boring.

But on this particular day, something happened that completely transformed my faith and my relationship with the Lord.

As I sat on my bed with tears flowing, I suddenly knew exactly where I needed to go to calm my fears and anxiety.

To this day, I know it was by the grace of God through the Holy Spirit that I was moved to stand up, grab my coat, and walk to the church next to the university.

And that’s what I did.

I simply walked through the doors of St. Thomas More, found the nearest pew, and collapsed with tears flowing.

The church was empty at this time of day. It was just me.

My anxiety slowly melted away and was replaced with a peace that only comes from the Lord. An indescribable peace.

I innately knew that everything was going to be okay.

Before that day, I didn’t have a relationship with the Lord.

But I believe to my core that the grace I had received from the Sacraments, the Holy Eucharist, and weekly Mass, moved me to walk to the nearest Catholic Church.

And when I got there, I felt the presence of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I was truly transformed that day.

It was on that day that I discovered that I needed God. It was on that day that I began my own personal journey with God. And from that day on, my relationship with Him has been at the center of my life. And that was just the beginning.