Having recently converted from Protestantism to Catholicism with my whole family, I understood or thought I understood why we Catholics honor Mary. I had read the Catechism, and I accepted the Church’s teaching about her. But this lady that the folks in Combermere love was for me simply a picture, a doctrine, a statue in the woods.

After I’d visited Madonna House a few times, I decided that I would “like” Our Lady of Combermere mostly because everyone at Madonna House did. As a guest I loved joining in with whatever the community was doing. They went to church; I went to church. They washed dishes; I washed dishes. They liked Our Lady of Combermere; well, then, I wanted to like her, too.

And slowly my desire to know her grew.

For the next few years I “practiced” practicing devotion to Our Lady. I didn’t feel anything, but I went through the motions. I prayed the rosary, I wore a miraculous medal, and I even began shyly talking to her.

I kept hearing and reading about people who said that Mary had led them to Jesus. But my most frequent prayer was, “Jesus, please introduce me to your mother.” I wanted so much to have that closeness with her that I saw in other Catholics.

Then on my next visit to Madonna House, when I saw Our Lady of Combermere again, I realized that I really did love her. I felt more comfortable with her, my conversations with her became less stilted, and I even felt like she was smiling at me.

It was all very pleasant. Not very exciting, but pleasant. By the time I returned home, I was pleased that I now had a relationship with Mary, with the statue in the woods. But I was also faintly disappointed. Was this all there was to it?

The Lord’s gift of a deeper love of Mary almost crept up on me. I don’t think I fully realized what had happened to me until one day when I approached Our Lady and suddenly she wasn’t just a statue. She was a person! A person whose arms were outstretched for me, a person whose feet were running towards me, a person whose eyes looked not only into my face but into my soul.

I knew overwhelmingly and with my whole heart that Mary loved me as her own and that I belonged to her. I knew that she had been with me all this time, guiding and protecting me. I knew she would be with me always, tenderly watching over me, holding me, and showing me her Son.

Now everything is changed. Everything is beautiful. No longer is Our Lady of Combermere just a picture, a doctrine, a statue in the woods. She is my Mother.

Beth, a recent long-term visitor at Madonna House, is the oldest of eight children. In 2000, a week before her sixteenth birthday, her entire family was received into the Catholic Church at our Trinity Sunday Mass.