Breathing the light scent of spring air admixed with incense, the priest’s words from Exodus rolling like an elixir into our ears and the feeling of angels over the altar, we came into full communion with the holy, catholic and apostolic church on our knees at the Easter Vigil two years ago.
I can tell you now that I am home. I can also tell you that becoming Catholic wasn’t about rejection so much as fulfilment; the fulfilment of an arc that had run through my life to that point. It was making peace with a still small voice; first soft but eventually overwhelming. It felt like an act of consummation.
