6 May 2017
Dear Mrs. Pye,
I've been meaning to write this letter for a while but never got around to it until now. It's about how I became Catholic, and the part you played in that.
Growing up in Doylestown, I didn't really know too many Catholics. I mean, they were around I'm sure, but nobody was really wearing it on their sleeve for everyone to see. I was kind of curious about Christianity, and was exposed to it through Andy and his DPC friends. But I didn't know much about Jesus because nobody really talked about it. Brian was probably my first Catholic friend.
Brian didn't really talk about his faith much, and I didn't ask too many questions, but it was clear there was something about your family that was different. I forget how many brothers and sisters Brian had (4? 5?) but it seemed like a lot, which was kind of peculiar, but you all seemed to have a really tight family and were involved in each other's lives. I liked that. I like being around your family, especially swimming in the pool at your house. I remember the pictures of Jesus and his Sacred Heart, and it reminded me of something from another time, and again, it stuck with me as a curiosity. Your family seemed on solid ground as far as faith and religion was concerned. It was wrapped up in your identity.
I had a very rudimentary understanding of Christianity growing up. I asked my dad one time who told me, "All Catholics are Christians, but not all Christians are Catholic." I guess that was all I really knew at the time as far as religion was concerned. Prayer wasn't a thing in our house. I do remember going to St. Ann's in Warrington with my dad sometimes, but the Ukrainian Liturgy was so ethnic I was really in the dark as to what was going on. We would go to St. Paul's in town (my mom's church) for Christmas, and sometimes Sunday school there when we were younger. But really, nothing ever stuck, and it just wasn't a thing in our house.
When Brian and I set out to hike the Appalachian Trail after I graduated, and before he started his senior year, we obviously spent a lot of time together hiking, cooking, sleeping in tents and shelters, etc. He was a good companion. Megan Springer's mom gave me a small New Testament before the trip, and I kept it with me. After Brian left the Trail and I continued on, it was lonely. I would read from the Book of Psalms in shelters when I was alone, and it was comforting. I wanted to know God, but I was like the Ethiopian eunuch in the book of Acts when Philip encounters him, reading the prophet Isaiah and not having anyone to explain it to him.
I came home from the Trail early, and spent the summer avoiding people because I was embarrassed I didn't make it to Maine, and getting ready for my first year at Penn State. The week before classes started, my dad shared a schedule of Masses, and said I should check it out. So I did, and eventually my curiosity was encouraged and I started doing one-on-one catechesis with a Byzantine-rite priest. I was confirmed, made my first Confession, and received my first Communion right before Christmas my freshman year at Penn State.
It's been almost twenty years since then. In that time I got my MA in Theology, discerned a vocation for ten years (ultimately not God's plan), and eventually got married and had a family. My wife Debbie and I live in Delaware County, and we have two kids presently, David (5) and Monica (4), and two souls in Heaven due to miscarriage.
Were you praying for Brian and I during our trip? Were you praying for me? I have a feeling you were. I think there were a lot of people praying me into the Church along the way. But you and your family were my first exposure to Catholicism, and that never really left me. You had a kind of joy and assurance that I wanted, and I wanted to know how to have that. And now I do, and my wife and kids too.
So, if you were praying for me, thank you. Thank you for living your faith; you probably never knew I was watching, but I was, with curiosity. Thank you for hanging that picture of Jesus and Mary in your home. Thank you for letting Brian spend the summer hiking with me when you had no idea where we were or if we were still alive. That took a lot of trust, and it was a formative time for me. God is good.
Say hello to Mr. Pye for me, and I hope to see you the next time I am up in Doylestown.
Rob