I have a soul

My faith and spirituality did not come from my family. I first encountered God through a catechist at school—a quiet, gentle teacher who spoke to us about the Bible in a way that felt simple, yet strangely personal.

I still remember one afternoon in that classroom. The air was warm, and sunlight slipped through the windows, landing softly on our desks. Most of my classmates were restless, waiting for the bell to ring—but I found myself listening. Really listening. There was something in the way she spoke about God that made Him feel… close. Not distant or abstract, but real.

I didn’t fully understand it then, but something in me responded.

That small moment quietly changed the direction of my life.

Decades later, that same seed came back in a way I never expected. In my forties, while recovering from breast cancer, I stepped away from my career and found myself with time to reflect. Out of deep gratitude to God for restoring my health, I chose to volunteer and teach children—pouring into their lives in the same way someone had once poured into mine.

It made me realize how powerful it is when someone passes on truth that brings hope, renewal, and the promise of life beyond this one.

I was only ten when I first tried to approach God on my own.

I remember standing in front of a mirror, noticing the redness on my skin, feeling the familiar sting of embarrassment. My eczema had made me painfully aware of how I looked, especially around classmates and neighbors. That night, I lay in bed, staring into the dark, and whispered a prayer I had never said out loud before.

I made a deal with God.

If You heal me… if You take this away… I will give my life to You. I will enter the convent.

It was a child’s prayer—simple, honest, and a little desperate.

Looking back, I see how natural it was for me to reach for God, even at that age. It makes me wonder how different things might be if more children were simply allowed to know Him early on.

Parents often worry that introducing faith too soon might confuse their children. But I’ve come to believe that something in them already understands more than we think.

Our bodies are new, yes—but there is a deeper mystery to who we are. As it says in Jeremiah 1:5:

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,

before you were born I set you apart…”

Sometimes, it’s our lack of understanding that holds us back. We hesitate, thinking that speaking about God is too heavy, when in reality, a child’s heart may already be open.

Jesus Himself said in Matthew 19:14:

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them,

for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

And I think back to that little girl in the classroom—quietly listening, not fully understanding, but somehow already knowing enough to believe.