Coming home to the Catholic Church

Before my conversion, I had returned to Jesus because of a vivid dream, one I still struggle to fully describe, but that changed everything. Until then, I was living a secular life. Though I had known Jesus in childhood through my grandmother, I had turned away in my youth, disheartened by prejudices, poor examples, and inconsistencies in the faith I saw. I felt ashamed after my dream because I knew I was wrong.
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Waking up that morning, I knew I had encountered something sacred. I was overwhelmed and confused, but I felt sure the Holy Spirit was guiding me. So, I followed that prompting, diving into Scripture, seeking out conversations with Christian friends, listening to teachings online, and repenting. This all took place during the COVID years, when church life was difficult to access, but my hunger to know God only deepened.

In 2023, we started visiting Protestant churches, hoping to find a spiritual home. Yet each time, I left feeling uncomfortable and unsettled. The sermons often felt like TED Talks. The music was concert-style. Something was missing. I didn’t know what at first, but I later realized I was longing for transcendence, reverence, and spiritual structure. I wanted more than inspiration. I wanted tradition. I wanted truth.

When my middle daughter said she wanted to attend a Catholic high school, I reluctantly decided to go to Mass with my sister-in-law, who is Catholic. That first Mass felt different: quiet, reverent, and sacred. It wasn’t trying to entertain, it was pointing me to God. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had come home.

We began attending a small parish in our neighbourhood and eventually joined the RCIA program that fall. My two younger children and I went through the process together, and it felt like being embraced after a long journey. What struck me most was the richness of Catholic tradition, the depth of its teachings, the reverence shown to Mary and the Saints, and the groundedness of its moral clarity. Unlike the confusion I had grown used to in secular culture and even in some Christian spaces, the Catechism offered definitive, thoughtful answers. Catholicism doesn’t shy away from hard truths; it proclaims them with love and confidence.

​I also came to understand something that shifted everything: the Catholic Church isn’t a man-made institution added later; it is the Church Jesus founded. The historical continuity from the apostles to today’s Church shocked me. Early Christians believed in things I had been told were “later inventions,” like the Eucharist as the true Body and Blood of Christ, the veneration of Mary, and the power of sacred tradition.

I found beauty in Catholic discipline. Practices like fasting, praying the rosary, and following the liturgical calendar don’t just feel “old-fashioned,” they feel anchoring. They help me live my faith, not just think about it. I’ve also discovered a new appreciation for the union of the physical and spiritual: how God uses ordinary things—bread, wine, water, oil—as well as ordinary people to do extraordinary things. The sacraments are more than symbols; they are direct encounters with grace.

Now, after being baptized and confirmed, I do indeed feel like a new creation. My heart is on fire and hungry to learn more. I’m no longer confused or searching aimlessly, I’m rooted. I’m grateful for the years of questioning because they led me here, somewhere I honestly never thought I would be. Now, I am full of joy and eager to grow. I want to learn more, serve more, and stay close to the heart of Jesus.

​What I once feared would feel restrictive has become the greatest freedom I’ve ever known.

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Written by Robyn Okenfold, newly baptized in 2025 at St. Pius X Parish, Calgary.