Three years ago, I packed up my life in my hometown of Cary, North Carolina and moved to Philadelphia, a city full of noise and strangers. I remember my parents helping me load up all my belongings into our SUV the day before the big move. Being the only girl, my family was hesitant to let me move to a new city alone. However, I was anticipating this change as I craved independence, a fresh start, and to leave my comfort zone.

During my first week in the city, I tried to get adjusted build a new routine of my life in the city with evening runs. One evening, while jogging back to my apartment, I noticed the church I had visited for Sunday Mass was still open. Curious to know what was happening, I entered through the side door which led me into the main church, lit only by soft glows near the altar. There were people sitting across different parts of the church, practicing silence. At the center of the altar was something I remember seeing my mom back home kneel before to, many times in the past. The Eucharistic Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament (Christ) was being exposed in a golden monstrance (a sunburst-shaped liturgical vessel, typically gold or silver, used in Catholic churches to display the consecrated Eucharistic Host.) It was so beautiful, radiant, and resting still on the altar that I couldn’t stop gazing.

From the choir loft, I heard a girl softly singing a worship song that echoed through the silence. Feeling out of place in my workout clothes, I hesitated to walk and sit near the front of the altar. Instead, I took a seat near the back corner row and simply observed the magnificent
silence. A while later, the priest walked to the altar, knelt down, and joined the crowd in singing what sounded like a Medieval Latin hymn. I later learned it was the Tantum Ergo, written by St. Thomas Aquinas, which translates to “So Great Therefore”. As the priest sang, he swung an incense burner, releasing fragrant smoke as a symbol of prayers rising to GOD. Afterward, he walked to the center of the altar and, with his cloak, lifted the Holy Eucharist, moving from side to side and made the Sign of the Cross over the congregation giving the final blessings.

Growing up, I watched my mom attend adoration with a deep love and reverence for the Holy Eucharist. She often encouraged my siblings and me I to join her, but it wasn’t until much later in college that I started to long an intimate relationship with Jesus. But that moment in the church stirred something deep within me. It felt familiar as what I have to what I had seen during my childhood, but completely new. I returned the following week, and each time I felt drawn to my Heavenly Father, as though He was calling me by my name to sit with Him. Over time, adoration became a place of healing and stillness where I felt seen and heard by GOD. It reminded me of how Jesus also sought that closeness, praying in the Garden of Gethsemane in the midst of darkness right before His arrest. Similarly, when I sit before the Blessed Sacrament that represents the Body and Blood of Christ, I am ‘“taken back to the garden’” longing to let the LORD into every hidden corner of my life. Even now, I continue to go to adoration, longing to embrace Him and be held by Him. It was within this same sacred space that I felt His calling for me to write and to pour my heart out for His glory. Even though I have been writing for ten years, it was through Scripture, prayer and my growing love for the Holy Eucharist. I began to let Him be the author and for me to be His pen.

While these past few years in Philly have been liberating and exhilarating, it would be a lie to say that I never felt lonely, exhausted, and full of self- doubt. I moved to Philly seeking a new kind of freedom, but I found something far greater. I found my way back home to my Father. In the stillness of every adoration, I encountered the One who had been waiting for me all along. The same GOD who welcomes His prodigal son home. The same GOD who calls me by my name.