I was stunned. I had never in my life had a sadder day than that one. Patrick stayed with us for a few days, and we talked. I tried to understand, but I just couldn’t. My husband and I knew almost nothing about Madonna House, but we supposed it was some sort of cult.

In June, just two weeks after informing us of his plans, Patrick set out for Canada.
One day that September, George said to me, “We need to go see that boy.” So on October 2nd we headed north and drove through the most glorious autumn colors I had ever seen.

At Madonna House we found the most simple, loving, and prayerful place we had ever been. Patrick had found a wonderful home for himself—and, as it turned out, for us.

Since that day we have been back to visit many times. I have even spent time in Combermere as a working guest. This summer I am looking forward to returning with a grandson.

We also visited Patrick when he was in Robin Hood’s Bay in England and in Edmonton, Alberta, where he is now. In all these communities, there is love.

Marian Centre Edmonton is perhaps the busiest place I have ever been. Their soup kitchen is full of volunteers chopping and stewing and washing and running. I visited and worked there for a week after George died three years ago. I helped chop the donated vegetables and meat for the stew and served it to the needy men who came. And Mass and prayer were holy times.

Oh, to be forty years younger so that I could live that life always!