In 1942  when my father joined the Marine Corps our family moved to Quantico, Va.  I attended first grade there before my Father shipped out to the Pacific and the war. 

     But, what I am remembering tonight is attending "Sunday School" in the living room of another Marine family with several other children.  Our teachers were our parents, America was at war, gas and food were rationed and our young parents believed in God and knew how much we all needed Him and His protection.  Although it was a frightening time, with blackouts and search lights at night, we children felt secure with loving, brave parents and the prayers they taught us.  

    When Dad finally got  back to us in December 1945 we got settled again in Kansas.   Again, St. Matthews was our church.  Confirmation occurred at age 12, after much study, and I also became a member of the "junior alter guild".  We girls covered our heads in those times and were very reverently taught how to care for the alter cloths, service pieces, and also the blessed body and blood.  Actually, my upbringing was quite "Catholic" in many ways.

    When I was 16 a friend became ill with leukemia.  She was a strong girl, a cheerleader full of fun and we just knew she would be well soon!  St. Matthews was across the street from the high school and another friend and I attended 7 am communion before school on week days praying for Marcia's recovery. 

    But, Marcia died and I had a bitter crisis of faith.  No one could console me until weeks later my father walked with me in a wheat field behind our house and said to me that God may have wanted to spare her more suffering on earth and so he took her to heaven at a young age.  Somehow, that did it for me, still to this very day. 

    In the 1960's the Episcopal Church began to change but I was not disturbed even though the prayer book was revised and the lovely old language was discarded. I have always prayed and turned to God in all times whether in grief or happiness.  Prayer is just woven into my days and nights quite without effort, although I love to attend daily mass now that I am Catholic.  What a wonderful way to live!!

    I was led to the Catholic Church by my young nephew in Denver.  Sam was raised by my youngest sister, a single Mom, and she enrolled him in a Catholic School in Denver because she felt strongly that he needed to be brought up in a faith-filled school for his well being.  When I would visit them we would go to Mass and young Sam would lead the way up to the priest...he would turn around with his arms folded over his chest and say "Aunt Grammie, this is what you do and you will get a blessing".  He was right!

    So what has happened is this:  Sam and his mother (my sister Elizabeth) are Catholic, I am Catholic, my husband became Catholic three years ago and our oldest son converted two years ago.  All because of a little child who is now a freshman in college!!  

   One never knows what lies ahead but I do know that I am so grateful to be a Catholic.   Ann Esch