Held in Grace

Throughout my life I’ve learned that faith is a journey. It can shake, grow, bend, and falter. When faith falters, it is God’s grace which continues to move one forward on their journey. 

My faith journey began on May 27, 1990, my baptismal day, a promise made for me by my parents and godparents, before I could understand it. I attended Catholic school from preschool through high school, where faith was woven into daily life.  My earliest memories of faith include Sunday Mass with my family, school liturgies with classmates and our teachers — I remember my first reconciliation and how dimly the church was lit that evening, I also remember preparing for and celebrating First Holy Communion with my second grade class.  I would come back to this same church as a freshman in high school to receive the sacrament of confirmation.  As a child, I accepted my faith with certainty. 

That certainty was first challenged when I began college at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. During new student orientation after introducing myself and answering the repetitive question “where did you go to high school?” a fellow student asked me, “Are Catholics Christians?” I was stunned by her (what I considered to be) ignorance, but more importantly I was disappointed in myself for not knowing how to respond beyond “of course we are.” That moment revealed how unprepared I was to articulate my faith. While I remained committed, I often lacked the confidence to share it. A priest once told me that Catholics are often quiet about evangelizing, but we are called to do more. That stayed with me. 

During this time in college, I met my husband, Josh. Sharing the Catholic faith became a foundation of our relationship, marriage, and family. In 2014, I moved to Grand Island and became a parishioner at Resurrection, a church and pastor that I was familiar with as Josh grew up going to church here and I often attended with him.  Father Mike prepared us for marriage and came to Omaha to celebrate our holy matrimony. As we planned our future and attended marriage preparation, I recall expressing my concern about raising children in Grand Island without access to Catholic elementary education, knowing how deeply it had shaped me. 

In 2018, we welcomed our first daughter, Madison Grace. Her middle name, reflecting God’s mercy, was intentional.  Unintentionally, her baptism fell on May 27th the same date as mine, 28 years later. That unplanned connection felt deeply meaningful. In 2020, our second daughter, Ellen James, was born during a time of global uncertainty. Her middle name, also intentionally biblical, reflected an active expression of faith and leadership.  We were grateful to have experienced God’s grace while we welcomed our second daughter that year.  

Motherhood strengthened my faith in many ways, and again I would find myself accepting my faith with certainty. But faith that never questions can never grow.  Faith is not certain; it is not perfect.   

In 2024, after a long and difficult search for answers, my mom was diagnosed with ALS. In that moment, faith became less about certainty and more about presence, showing up even when my heart felt its heaviest. I find myself seeking God more intentionally, grateful for each day my mom is given. 

Josh and I had been involved in supporting Grand Island Central Catholic (GICC). We were invited to volunteer for Grand Island Central Catholic’s Elementary School Capital Campaign.  Josh is a graduate of GICC and I am also a Catholic school grad, with a deep desire to help bring this opportunity to our community and our own children. The campaign was something we were both happy to play a small part in.   

This year, I stepped into a role with the school’s Foundation, work that feels less like a career and more like a calling. Being given a platform through work to evangelize my faith is certainly not something I take for granted.  

One day at school Mass with my daughter, I was struck by how full circle my journey had become, reliving the same experiences that first shaped me, now alongside my child. At home when helping our girls learn prayers, I instill, for example, that understanding what we are asking St. Michael the Archangel to intercede on our behalf, matters more than word for word memorization.  I believe these moments are the beginning steps in teaching our children how to evangelize their faith.   

This current chapter of life, caring for our daughters while supporting my mom, has challenged me in new ways. I have felt anger, and I have doubted. There are questions our children pose that I cannot answer.  

When I seek God, I am reminded that faith does not require perfect understanding. He meets us where we are.  I am still on this journey and that is the greatest grace of all. †