David

I was born into a nominally Jewish family, but we practiced only rarely. My parents divorced when I was about 5. I was a latch key kid and was influenced by the neighbors kids - the most stable families were Catholic. I had a "Sunday school" education where I learned all about the old testament and zero about Christianity. It was a dispassionate historical approach, very few of my classmates believed in God at all. At that time I was an agnostic, not hostile to religion, because I had no grievance against the believing world. That's not to say I wasn't angry. I had a very deeply submerged anger at my parents who told me they loved me (and I imagine they did) but always had reason to be elsewhere. I was strongly encouraged to be as independent as possible, when all I wanted was to belong. I became outsider lone wolf type , a contrarian who never quite fit in.

This attitude accelerated at college when both my parents moved out of state in my freshman year. I was an agnostic conservative at a large impersonal very liberal university steeped in PC (University of Michigan, Ann Arbor). I remember the yearly "take back the night" marches by angry feminists and being asked point blank my political leanings in my german class by the teachers assistant ( I was the only conservative).

I was lonely trying to fit into whatever groups I could. I remember envying the Gays who appeared to have instant "acceptance" and "community". Did I say I was also naive? It was not as if you could tell me anything either because I was also arrogant. I knew only the popular press version of Christianity, that and what was professed by sincere door to door missionaries I spoke to once or twice. I was ignorant and I didn't know nor did I care. I had Science and Art which I thought led to Truth and Beauty. I remember the luminous Madonna and Child painting of an old Master in the campus museum, the child was so beautifully rendered he seemed to breathe. This search became my focus and I studied Zen Buddhism for a while, but as a philosophy not a religion. In my private life I was either lonely (most of the time) or in a loveless "relationship" now and then.

I graduated not knowing what to do or where to go, so I delayed the real world with graduate school. I intended to re-tool my frivolous Botany BS into an authentic career with graduate degrees. Texas A & M accepted me and I was privileged to move to a much more conservative (and less politicized) campus. I eventually began dating a Catholic Texas girl (Miss Waller County 1976) who against her better judgment agreed to marry me. We moved to California where we both had jobs and eventually got married by civil service in a trailer park (such glamor).

We lived the San Francisco Bay Area so I know the horrors of guitar masses and liturgical dancers. I didn't know any better, and since I just sat on my hands in incomprehension when see went up to communion, I never objected. These folks were the just the sweet well-meaning hippies I knew in school, or so I thought. Despite what my parents think , my wife never pushed her religion on me and I never argued against it. I didn't want any resentment between us. I knew what divorce was like (my mother has been married and divorced 3 times) and I wanted to to all I could to avoid it. Besides faith was a beautiful compelling idea. I wanted faith, but at that time I sincerely didn't believe and I could not respect a God who could not tell the difference. I wouldn't criticize it but I couldn't fully participate either. Oh don't get me wrong I had prayed now and them especially when I was truly lonely or down, but these were the weak prayers of the faithless.

We decided to get married in the Church, not that I was becoming Catholic, but because it cemented the bond and pleased her family. We went through the engaged encounter in the Church and was married in a lovely ceremony (not a full mass) by priest back in Texas.

As for my career I had landed a good post doc job at Stanford but I found myself (being pigheaded) arguing with my boss. I opened the Bible a family friend had given us at our wedding and found a random passage about pride. I recognized my failing and prayed sincerely to Jesus for the first time and asked for a sign (I told you I was arrogant). The next day my apology and my bosses charity ended the argument and I got my little sign.

Now at the time the only Gospel I knew was Matthew (written for Jews) and I always loved that part about the sparrows. How God knows of each sparrows and how we are worth many sparrows. So the next day the young Mexican janitor who's English was weak but whose smile was real found a hummingbird in the bathroom and asked me what to do with it. He Handed me the bird with an arm tattooed with an elaborate cross and I held the beautiful bird in my hand and felt it's rapid heartbeat. We got a Dixie cup with sugar water and held it up the birds beak and it sat in on my shirt pocket and drank with it's forked tongue for about 15 minutes. I took this as my sign, my dark mood lifted and I never had a argument with my boss again.

I told my wife all about it and on the Feast of the Assumption I felt moved to being RCIA. This time my wife returned the favor went with me through the RCIA process. There are a few good stories there too with a mixed group of teachers one of whom was an ex-priest (I don't know what they were thinking). The next Easter I was baptized , confirmed and received communion for the first time.

At the same time we were trying to start a family. We failed and after several miscarriages we began to look for alternatives. We investigated in vitro and was put off my the callousness of clinic. A chirpy young lady told us in all her bright eyed sincerity that if we were to get pregnant with a Downs child we could get an abortion and a refund. In retrospect that statement was a giant red flag that sent us in the opposite direction. We started the adoption process, but before we were successful my wife became pregnant. She carried to term and God gave us a healthy boy of our own.

Her there's a bit more. On the day my son was born I received a more complete sign. As sson as the midwife passed my infant son to me I felt the Spirit. I felt it physically with my heart although I couldn't see or hear it. I felt love being poured down from the ceiling on my and filling my heart and the billowing out to the whole room. I cannot do the sense of the Spirit justice. I felt the vast overabundance of love being poured out and I recognized myself as a tiny inadequate vessel that could capture only a cup of it. I've never felt anything like it and other had some sense of it as well. It lasted only a few minutes but it was indescribably joyful and overwhelming.

Today (4 years later) I'm waiting for the arrival, in October of my second son. God is Great.