Happy Monday Friends!! I am sorry I have not been on here much lately, but I promise I will be around more in the coming weeks. Yesterday’s gospel is pretty remarkably placed. My heart has definitely been troubled in the last few weeks, a bit afraid, and really unsure.

This summer I have the amazing opportunity to travel on behalf of My Saint My Hero to meet some incredible people, share our story and experience all that God has planned. I am not the only one that will have that chance this summer. However, it’s quite significant for me since I will run face to face with something that for the last 7 years I have hidden from, but was a huge part of my reversion to the Catholic Church. July 26, 2009 is a day that still plays on repeat in my head like it was yesterday. One month before the date, my Grandmother and Grandfather called to tell me news that would forever break my heart and mildly harden my heart. My Grandfather had cancer, it was bad, and the only way to potentially save him was to operate. One week later I’m in a car on my way to Vegas, several hours later I walk into a hospital room where he can’t move because they just operated on his spine to try to get the cancer out. It was worse than they thought, but with the treatment he would be better – at least that’s what they told me. Little did I know that would be the last time he would smile at me, kiss me, look me in the eyes and call me his little girl. I didn’t know I would never again dance in-front of the jukebox with him while he sang into my ear Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl” or Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”

I am sure you are all wondering how this has to do with summer travels… On July 26th, 2009, I got onto a bus at 6am to start what slowly became the WORST bus drive of my life. My best friend Amy was with me, along with all of my friends from Life Teen – we were on our way to Steubenville West in Tucson, AZ. I was over the moon and ready to find Matt Maher, the Bible Geek to ask for some autographs and pictures, and to just have a blast. I hardly slept the night before and walked out to find my car handles stuffed with vaseline (my friends and I had an epic game of pranking each other’s cars going on that summer). A few hours in – and after the bus broke down a few times – I got the phone call that my Grandfather went home to our Heavenly Father.

This summer on July 15th, for the first time since 2009, I will walk into the Steubenville arena I walked into 7 years ago – broken, angry and numb. To say “I’m ready” to return would be a lie. I am broken and scared. But I will let my heart be.

Fearlessly,
Teresa

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