A few weeks ago a few of us from the GTA Area Core went on a pilgrimage to Quebec City to visit the Holy Doors at Notre Dame de Quebec. Most of us knew very little about what the Holy Doors actually were. Some people imagined that it would just be a freestanding doorpost frame in the middle of nowhere (don’t worry, I won’t mention who those people were…hahaha). I read up a little bit on what it was all about, but going to Quebec I still didn’t really know what to expect.
When we all passed through the door, each person explored a different part of the church. We all found ourselves looking for a Catholic priest. We found him by the St. Joseph shrine, and the line was long because he was the only English speaking priest out of three stations. After observing the speed of people coming and going, some of us decided to venture out and look for shorter lines. I stayed.
After an hour, everyone but me had finished going to Confession. I was adamant about staying in that particular line. Ever since I was about sixteen years old, my mother gave me a St. Joseph rosary and she told me to pray to him for help with my love life- for help with finding a husband (should that be the vocation God wills for me). There was something about having a face to face experience with a priest right before the beautiful St. Joseph statue that tugged at my heart. Something made me want to stay. I’ve seen so many St. Joseph statues, but this one just called out to me. So even after an hour and a half, I still waited.
And waited,
And waited,
And waited…..
Mass began and I started to panic. Here I was, standing patiently in line for what seemed like forever, and at this point there was only one other person in front of me. “I’ll make it,” I told myself. But then the Homily began, and the person who went in 25 minutes before mass started was still with the priest reading from his stack of papers. The woman before me kept huffing and turning in her seat. She mumbled to the lady in front of her. This guy was at confession for almost an hour! The more she fussed, the more desperate my heart grew.
“This was a stupid idea,” I told myself.
Why the heck did I have to be so stubborn? I waited for two and a half hours, the mass will end and I probably still won’t be able to have Confession with St. Joseph before me. As the priest was getting ready to bless the bread and wine, a huge lump settled at the base of my throat and I was so tired that I just let the tears fall down my face.
“Why Lord? Why did this happen? Why couldn’t I just let myself leave this spot and go to another priest? I would’ve gotten what I wanted. I would have found the peace I desired and the absolution I needed! I can’t leave Quebec feeling so empty. I can’t leave feeling so unfulfilled! I. Am. So. Stupid.”
*At this point, the priest was saying his blessing for the gifts*
For some reason, I felt this need to adjust my body and move my gaze from the monstrance to St. Joseph’s face. So I did.
And that’s when it me. It hit me like a pound of bricks. It hit me like a slap in the face. A lightbulb turned on.
“How do you think I felt…” – St. Joseph’s face somehow exuded, unchanging- “to wait for something I thought I always wanted, something I always thought I needed, something I worked hard for…?“
St. Joseph probably always wanted to marry. Like any other committed, conservative, God-fearing man he knew that if he waited long enough, he would find a good Jewish woman who he could have beautiful Jewish babies with. A wife of his own, a family of his own.
St. Joseph did marry, did have a wife, did raise a child. But the child was not of his flesh and blood. And his marriage he was never able to consummate. Like any other human being, St. Joseph must have grown impatient, tired, doubtful, fearful, confused, terrified…
And yet, he lived his life to the fullest and died a peaceful death. He had his own dreams, plans and ambitions but left them behind because he knew that God wanted to give him more- not in his lifetime, but in the next in heaven. St. Joseph waited his whole life (here on earth) and never attained his worldly desires but never stopped living his life of waiting.
I felt a sudden rush of peace. What did I really want in the first place? Was it not simply God whom I desired? And was he not here, present, right before me in the sacrament of the Eucharist? And would he not quench that thirst, fill that hunger every single day at His altars, at every single Catholic church I could ever step foot in?
I didn’t get to go to Confession that day. I didn’t get to speak to the priest in the presence of St. Joseph. But the affirmation and intimacy of having the Lord reach into my heart and rearrange the pieces within myself was more than enough. I received the grace I needed to keep going for my lifelong pilgrimage- the one that went beyond the confines of the church, beyond the borders of the French city.
To be joyful in the wait, because God has a plan for me well beyond my own understanding.
I didn’t exactly understand everything a month ago, but now as I enter into this new year I can’t help but be excited for what is to come. I am going into my third year as a Mission Volunteer into a completely different ministry from where I first began. I entered this program thinking that as confused as I was my future would be clearer in 2015 but here I am, still waiting for his plans in my missionary life to unfold.
I’m a lot calmer than I have ever been. Peace has nestled its way into the corners of my heart. I don’t know where I’ll be a year from now, two years from now. I still have my own plans, my own dreams & aspirations, but like St. Joseph I will be happy with a life of waiting knowing that at the end of it all, it is God who I ultimately desire above all. And however way he chooses to reveal Himself to me, whatever way he chooses to love me… His promise will endure now and forever.
