Look, Ma, I'm Catholic

I live at some distance -- several hundred miles -- from most of my family and one dear friend who has known me since the fifth grade (that would be more than 40 years, at this point). Along with all of the other disadvantages to geographic separation, there's one that has weighed rather heavily on my heart these days.

Some of them don't yet know I am Catholic.

If the intervening miles between us could be snapped back like a rubber band, they would have seen the process of my conversion as it unfolded. As it is, the visual cues alone would now be hard to miss; the catechism and missals and breviary and other Catholic books around the house, the crucifixes on the walls and the small one around my neck, the framed and blessed Our Father I received in RCIA, a statue of Mary here and St. Jude there, a picture of the Holy Father, novena candles ... and finally the rosaries. Plural. The ones my daughter and I pray with, and the ones I make and give away.

If they visited over a weekend, it would also be hard to miss the fact that I go to Mass; they would be invited to come with me, but even if they politely declined, I'd be going anyway. Even before then, they may hear me saying morning or evening prayers or a rosary. Or see me make the sign of the Cross as we pray before a meal.

All of this is part of my life now. And I am not trying to keep it a secret. But some of these dear ones are also very entrenched and committed to a Protestant fundamentalism that teaches them -- has told them all of their lives -- that the doctrines of Catholic church are, at best, misguided and in error; at worst, anathema.

How to tell them? How to explain that all of the outward and visible evidence that this friend/sister/niece of theirs, whom they love, has "gone Catholic" is nowhere near as significant as the inward changes that have occurred as a result? How to express that the fullness and richness of Christianity, most especially in the Eucharist as the source and summit of our faith, is not just a "belief system" to which I subscribe but the very life of Christ -- an inheritance that they share, as my brothers and sisters, if only they would accept it?

How, indeed. To a certain extent, most converts have this dilemma: On the heels of telling our loved ones about our conversion, we must immediately become apologists and evangelists when we are still very wet behind the ears in more ways than one. If we're honest with ourselves, the prayer most often on our lips at those times is "Lord, please don't let me screw this up". Scott Hahn, I am not, nor even Marcus Grodi.

We just tell them, and let the Holy Spirit take it from there ... yes, but let me do it gently and lovingly and with a humble heart, and if even a glimmer of arrogance or superiority begins to creep in, let me shut my mouth until my attitude changes.

If we risk a relationship in "breaking the news" to those who are still where we were, then we risk it, and can offer up that sorrow. And always, always keep our loved ones in prayer.

Easy to answer. Hard to do, and thus I procrastinate. Lord, strengthen me.

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.