When I was a child, I grew up in a home with both my parents and grandparents. I shared a bedroom with my sister and each night, as I drifted off to sleep, I heard my grandparents praying the rosary together. Every time we set out in the car on a family vacation, my parents led us in a prayer asking God to grant us a safe journey. Other devotions surrounded me as I grew in my Catholic faith. Our family went to Stations of the Cross on the Friday nights of Lent, and we celebrated the Sacrament of Reconciliation regularly. We participated in our parish May crowning and attended Eucharistic Adoration and parish missions. Throughout my life, Catholic prayers and practices have been an essential part of my journey of faith.

There they were, practically paralyzed with fear. Over the past three years, they talked and traveled with the greatest of teachers. They witnessed miracles, learned life’s deepest truths from him, and grew spiritually sharper and more formidable. Yet their current circumstances reduced them to cowering in the upper room, unable to move and barely able to believe.