I always prayed.

Even when I wasn’t attending Mass regularly, my faith remained strong. My prayers never stopped. As a teacher in a Catholic school, I attended Mass weekly with my students, but those were shorter, child-focused services—beautiful in their own way, yet not the same as fully immersing myself in the rhythm of the Church. I told myself I was fine. That I was still connected, still faithful, still walking the path.

A close friend gently encouraged me to start attending Mass again. We had many conversations about it, and I often said, I know I will… someday. I wasn’t resistant, just not quite ready. But then one day, I simply went. No grand moment, no big decision—just a quiet step back through the doors.

And everything changed.

It wasn’t just about attending—it was about returning.

At first, it was subtle. A shift. A stirring. A feeling that this was something I needed, not something I was simply doing. I found myself looking forward to Saturday Mass, not as an obligation but as a longing. It became part of my week, a moment of stillness and surrender. I started planning my time around Mass rather than squeezing it in. And when I knew I was going to have to miss, I didn’t like it. Something felt off, as though I was missing an essential part of my soul’s rhythm.

I can’t quite explain it, except to say that it’s a closeness. A deep, quiet knowing.

There is something about being in His house, about sitting in the stillness, about receiving the Eucharist and being surrounded by the prayers of a gathered people. It reaches beyond words, beyond obligation, beyond habit. It’s a return—not just to the physical place of the church, but to a deeper, more intimate connection with Christ.

Now, Mass is not just something I attend; it’s something I cherish. And sharing this time with my dear friend makes it even sweeter—a reminder of how God places the right people in our lives to guide and encourage us.

I always prayed. But now, I am with Him in a way I didn’t even realize I was missing.

It’s a matter of the heart.

If you’ve ever felt the same—if you’ve stepped away, if you’ve told yourself it’s fine because you still believe—I want to gently remind you that there is something waiting for you in His presence. There is a closeness that no amount of personal prayer can quite replace.

Come back. Not because you have to, but because you get to.

Because He is waiting.

Because home has always been here.

Jenny