Luckily, I was standing on fertile ground.
At the time, our oldest daughter was enrolled in first grade at St. Mary Magdalen Catholic School, so my associates were faith-filled moms I met daily in the carpool pickup line. Their conversations and faith helped build mine.
It's no mistake that papers and projects from my daughter's religion class made it into my hands, helping me to grow in matters of faith.
And it was no accident that my daughter was thrilled to see me attend the weekly Masses, where I began listening to kid-sized sermons that fit my appetite.
All along, God had his hand on me.
I became part of the tight-knit faith community. When the school raised funds for a mom who was critically ill and needed a special van, I contributed an amount bigger than any donation I'd ever made before.
Change was taking place.
One day I stopped our pastor to let him know how glad I was that our children attended the parish school. I'll never forget my closing remark: "At first you think you are doing this for the child," I said. "But then you realize it's really a gift that comes back to you."
So true. My own faith was growing, and I was at peace.
When we needed a leader for our middle daughter's third grade troop, I didn't really want the position. However, something just kept telling me I needed to do that.
After all, my daily prayer was that God would guide me, and this was one time it was obvious that's where he wanted me.
I'd soon find out why.
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