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Not having been raised in a
religion, I did not know there was a God; so, for me,
ballet quickly became my personal god. At the height of
my dancing abilities and fully in love with my
profession, I suffered from foot injuries and had three
foot operations. This ended my career and took way the
only god I ever knew. Devastated, I grew depressed,
lost my identity and my hope.
In my sadness, I looked for comfort
in intimate relationships and sank ever deeper into a
mire of sin. I felt temporarily filled with life when I
was in a relationship, but when things failed—as they
inevitably did—I was left with an even larger, empty,
dark and lonely hole within me. Always searching
outside myself for something to make me happy, I never
truly felt a sense of inner peace. I did not think of
changing my behavior, and, one fateful summer, I ended
up with cervical cancer. I had approximately six weeks
to live. My hair was falling out; I was bleeding
internally and vomiting often. With no energy, I often
collapsed with fatigue. Worst of all, I felt sick
inside my soul. At times, I called out in guttural
despair. At times, I could not stop crying once I
started.
My tears were cathartic. I was
searching desperately through New Age spirituality for
answers and wanted nothing to do with Jesus or Mary.
For years I had wanted nothing to do with them. I
remember seeing a picture of the Madonna and Child which
made me so angry that I wanted it taken down. I also
remember reading a self-help book that I enjoyed except
for its fleeting references to Jesus. I knew that Jesus
and Mary were fanciful figures for the hopeless and
misguided. For me, their names and images evoked ire.
But Jesus decided to save me, a
sinner. I will never know why he chose me, and I do not
have words to express my gratitude. I would not be
alive were it not for divine grace, unmerited and
unasked for. When I was staying at a friend’s house one
day in that summer of 1993, when I was twenty-seven, I
lay down to rest in his room and felt the presence of
God within and around me. I then heard a loud “pop”
sound inside of my body and knew that the cancer was
gone. My friend then told me that Mary, the Mother of
God, spoke to him, telling him that she saw me stumbling
through life like a fish that could not find water. She
said that she took great pity on me and asked her Son to
save me. Later, Jesus spoke to my friend and told him
that I should sin no more, join the Catholic Church and
help bring to it “compassion, love, kindness and
generosity.” I had never before set foot in a Catholic
church, but I quickly learned how I could “sign up.”
I should not be here on earth; Mary
and Jesus saved my life. Even though I had hated them,
they had always loved me.
After I was cured, I remember
hearing a symphony. I was in my friend’s room and
thought perhaps the radio was on. I checked
everywhere—in the hall, out the window, under the bed,
even in his desk drawers, to see where the music might
be playing; but I soon realized that the beautiful music
was coming from within me. I realized then that heaven
was rejoicing because one sinner had been saved, and the
heavenly hosts were letting me join in the celebration.
My life isn’t mine any more. It is
God’s. I was God’s all along. And being a Christian
means everything to me. It means the difference between
life and death. |
