Hello, again

The "again" above refers to those hearty few who may be familiar with my original blog, A Third Way. If you're wondering what's up with ATW, click here.

Now, onto this blog. What's with the name and do I need a mask to read it?

I recently finished the book, Welcome Home: Stories of Fallen-Away Catholics Who Came Back. Given I was a Fallen-Away Catholic not so long ago, I enjoyed the book, as it shared stories of many who fell away, but came back to be very exciting, inspiring Catholics, Fr. Corapi, Jesse Romero and Rick Strom, just to name a few.

One of the stories mentioned the term "contagious Catholic," as in a person who humbly lives Catholicism so wonderfully, it makes you want to be the best Catholic you can be.

I love that term because in two words it simplifies a tremendous philosophy, order and challenge: Don't preach, just be. Follow Him and you'll bring people to Him.

When I think of "contagious Catholic," I think of the first and best example in my life, my late friend, Raquel.

My husband and I met Raquel (and her husband, Tom) through our involvement in Catholic Engaged Encounter. Raquel and Tom were our local community's leaders at the time we started to become more involved.

I was (and still am) always struck my how "normal" Raquel was for an extremely faithful person - but I didn't know this until later, unfortunately. And by "normal" and I mean you'd never know how deeply religious she was. She wasn't holier-than-thou, she wasn't sanctimonious or a prude. When you think about it, she was what truly Catholic people are supposed to be - joyful, fun-loving, generous and deeply humble.

Before my reversion to the faith, I always equated truly faithful people as boring, wet blankets. They were sourpusses who wanted to tell you what to do and what not to do. I couldn't have been more wrong.

About 6 months after we met Tom and Raquel, she was diagnosed with cancer. The doctors attacked it aggressively, but the cancer was too far ahead, and a little more than a year later, Raquel was gone, leaving behind Tom and their two pre-teen daughters.

I remember Raquel's wake. I approached her casket, and there she was looking very peaceful. But what really caught my eye was a wooden stand just before her casket. It held an open journal, page-after-page written in by Raquel. Next to the journal was a Rosary.

I found out that Raquel prayed the Rosary every day - often on her lunch hour - and also kept this detailed prayer journal. I had no idea she was so faithful. How could she be, she was so much fun?

The next day, her spiritual life was revealed even more. Her funeral was concelebrated by 10 priests! It turns out, Raquel was also heavily involved in her parish, organizations for the homeless, and much more.

She was also an early subscriber to Magnificat, and apparently knew someone (perhaps Editor Fr. Peter Cameron?) via correspondence, because there were hundreds of copies of Magnificat at the door for us to take home.

In the too-short time I knew Raquel, I had no idea she was as faithful and prayerful as she truly was. She never showed it off. She never talked about her many other volunteer efforts. She wasn't holier-than-thou and she never walked around quoting Scripture and wearing a gigantic Crucifix around her neck - all things I thought the very pious did.

I only knew Raquel for a year-and-a-half, but she was the most contagious Catholic I ever met - all without ever speaking a word. She truly lived St. Francis' plea: "Preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words."

In her life, she made me want to have a great marriage like she and Tom had. In her death, she continues to make me want to be the best wife, mother and Catholic I can be.

So that's a very long explanation behind this blog. I hope that in sharing my experiences in trying to live a Catholic life, it may help you in yours. I'm not going to preach and I'm not trying to teach. Nor am I trying to hold myself up as some awesome example of Catholicism. If you read this blog you'll realize I screw up, um, quite a lot.

But out of screw-ups come learning, for me and, less painfully, for you.

Thanks for reading.