My faith journey: a conversion story.

I was born in 1921, the son of an Anglican archdeacon. My mother was the daughter of an archbishop who had been the primate of the Anglican Church in Canada. My grandfather died ten years before my birth. I was brought up in the rectory next door to the church which became a central part of my life. For four years I attended an Anglican boarding school for boys, where daily chapel and religious instruction were integral parts of my education.

I spent five wartime years in the navy ending up as a trained fighter pilot. Throughout my youth and my teen years I considered myself to be religious. For example I was never taught but I knew from my childhood that Jesus Christ lived in that tabernacle that sat on the altar. (It was not until later as a Catholic that I learned that Anglicans neither taught nor believed that to be true.)

Toward the end of my naval service in the war, my trust in Anglicanism began to waver. Although it was obviously beyond my understanding at the time, the Lambeth conference of Anglican bishops held in London in 1930 had approved the use of contraception by married couples. This was the first time that an element of Christianity had approved this desecration of the marital act, and it was to result ultimately in the abandonment of sexual morality throughout Western Protestantism. Initially it became subtly reflected in various ways, including views on divorce for example. I was confused and had severe doubts about what had formerly been accepted as truths by Anglicans.

It was just after the war and having been persuaded to remain in the navy, that I was blest with what can truly be described as a spiritual opportunity. I met a beautiful girl. Rosemary's inner beauty was a reflection not only of the knowledge and depth of her faith but of her rock-solid commitment to the Roman Catholic faith of her birth. The outcome of this assuredly spiritual opportunity was obvious. Rosemary was serving in the Red Cross and her duties involved escorting Canadian war brides to Canada. A passenger on one such Atlantic crossing was a cardinal with whom Rosemary discussed her budding romance. The cardinal gave his approval of her intended acceptance of a possible proposal from this Anglican suitor.

Despite all the contrary odds in common sense--Rosemary was three years my senior, she had lost both her brothers in the war, one in the navy and the other in the air force--she agreed to the proposal of a non-Catholic just embarking on a career in naval aviation! In due course we were married in the sacristy of a Catholic church in Montreal, as was the custom at that time. This brought me into regular attendance in a Roman Catholic church. How wonderful it was!

Being in the navy and hence moving around a good deal even to other countries, I found that everywhere I went and attended Mass, we all stood and knelt at the same time, we all said the prayers together in the same language: Confiteor Deo, Credo in Unum Deum, Pater Noster, and so on, behind the priest who was facing the altar. I knew now for sure Who was in that tabernacle. Despite this, it took a somewhat prolonged period--until the birth of our fifth child--for me to convert to Catholicism.

One aspect of a service career may not be known by all. Constant moves, even outside the country, make finding suitable housing a continuing problem, especially for a family with children. A teenage experience had strengthened Rosemary's devotion to St. Joseph. She had visited Brother Andre in Montreal with a request for assistance in her prayer to St. Joseph that her grandfather be converted to Catholicism before his death. St. Joseph answered her prayer. On many subsequent occasions St. Joseph was called upon to help us, with our growing family, find accommodation as we moved from one service appointment to another. St. Joseph was ever responsive.

One incident is worthy of relating. In England not long after the arrival of our seventh child and having to make yet another move, we were looking for a rental in the area roughly equidistant between London and Portsmouth, an area not known for its numerous Catholic churches. Finding an owner willing to rent his furnished house to a family with seven young children does not often appear in the 'For Rent' column. Rosemary realized this posed a real challenge for St. Joseph but knew well, and trusted, his miraculous power. An estate agent soon found a most attractive house with lovely grounds in the village of Grayshott in Surrey. Lest we should be forgetful of the divine help we had received, within a mile down the road from our house was St. Joseph's Catholic Church. My daughter Mary made her First Communion in that church, and my older sons served as altar boys.

Now we jump years ahead over a period that included the council of Vatican II. There were many changes, but we were assured by our Holy Father John Paul II with whom we had been so richly blessed, that we were on the right track and that we must not be afraid. As the situation developed in Canada I found it increasingly difficult to avoid that fear. Today even in my own diocese I know one thing for sure--if I go to Mass in a different church, Mass will not be the same as the last Mass I attended. I may even have difficulty locating the tabernacle. The status seems to be such that apparently this situation should be regarded as acceptable and normal. I find myself having difficulty controlling the feelings engendered by that situation. Now after more than 57 blessed years, my wife has been called home. I am left with some consolation and able to experience some fear reduction knowing that Rosemary has an even closer link to St. Joseph as her prayers are added to the many thousands of others with the same intention. While it may require a "somewhat prolonged period," I can be confident that at some future time, St. Joseph will restore the Catholic Church in the country of which he is the patron, to full liturgical union with the one holy Catholic and Apostolic Church.