But after three days of it, I was so sore I wasn’t sure if I could continue. Then I remembered that someone at spiritual reading had said, "If we do little things well for the love of God, our work is transformed into prayer." This inspired me and gave me strength to not only continue, but to also try to make my work prayerful.

My soreness and tiredness could be my prayer, my offering to God who loves me so much that he sacrificed his entire life for the sake of my soul. Seeing this was a big grace.

On the morning of September 11th , the anniversary of my mother’s death, I decided to offer up all my work for her soul.

Soon after I arrived at the farm, I felt a large calloused hand on my shoulder and heard the words, "You have been chosen."

It was Fr. Louis Labrecque, Madonna House’s hard-working farmer-priest. He was telling me that I had been chosen to dig holes with him—all day! By the end of the day, my arms felt like two giant lead sinkers, and I could feel the blisters under my gloves.

That night, as I knelt by my bed praying, sore and tired, I looked down at the blister between my thumb and forefinger and thought, "This one’s for you, Mom."

Soon after that, the community gathered for the annual potato-harvesting bee. Half the day I gathered the small piles of potatoes that people had dug up into baskets, and the other half I brought the baskets to the root cellar.

By the end of the day, the community had harvested about 600 bushels. While riding home with Chris Hanlon, the head gardener, I said, "Wow! That was a lot of potatoes." He looked at me and said, "Yeah. I can’t wait to run out of them."

I thought, "This man has got to be nuts." I had to ask him, "Why on earth would you want to run out of potatoes?"

He replied, "Well, I always like to see what the Lord will provide next."

The amount of trust this man had in the Lord astounded me. I realized that if I could trust the Lord as much as he did, I would not be afraid. I would know that the Lord would provide whatever I need in my life.

Working, praying, living my faith were all meshed together here. I could work, laugh, tell stories, and pray, all at the same time. It was quite exciting, really.

One day a fellow longterm guest came up to me as I was sorting onions. "Paul, while I was at Mass, all I could think about was you, laughing and telling stories. You’re a good guy, but you’re just so loud."

At first my feelings were hurt, but then I realized that he was trying to help me. That evening as I knelt by my bed, I fervently prayed for silence.

The next morning when I was driving my van, I turned on the radio but it wouldn’t work. "Lord," I said, "This is not at all what I meant by silence."

Later I brought the van to Bryan O’Brien, the community auto mechanic. He looked at the radio, checked the fuse, and asked, "What have you been listening to?" "John Michael Talbot," I said.

"That wouldn’t do it."

"I did say a prayer for silence."

"Well, your prayer has been answered," said Bryan.

"Lord," I said in my heart. "You really have a sense of humor." Thanking Bryan, I accepted this as well as I could and drove away with my broken radio.

The next day, I was working at the farm with Derek, an applicant. I asked him about the large cross which stands on a pile of rocks on a hill some distance away. "Would you like to walk up to it?" he asked. "It’s a great place to pray."

So during our break we walked up the tall hill, the cross becoming close and closer. Finally we were there.

We could see for miles down into the valley, and there was the river shining in the sun. We walked our separate ways, and I sat at the foot of the cross.

Suddenly all was silent. The wind was still, not one tree moved, not one bird chirped. The stillness and silence penetrated deep into my soul leaving me with a sense of peace I had never felt before.

What had started with a criticism of me and a broken radio had turned into a great grace from God.

Indeed I received many graces at the farm, but the greatest grace I received in Madonna House was yet to come.

My schedule changed. I was moved from the farm, and I was able to work in different areas of the apostolate. I enjoyed learning new skills and getting to know new people. But this too changed.

One morning I woke up feverish and with a lot of pain in my bladder. My housefather Michael Weitl took me to the emergency room at the hospital in Barry’s Bay, a town about 20 km. away. We prayed the rosary the whole way there.

I found out I had a urinary tract infection, and I had to spend the next two weeks in bed.

"Christ, where are you?" I asked him after some of that two weeks had passed. "I can’t take this much longer."

When I was finally well enough to be up, Lent had begun.

Though this was a time of beautiful liturgies, great Lenten music, and Stations of the Cross, Lent turned out to be a very difficult time for me.

All I had learned about prayer, faith, the duty of the moment, and doing little things well for love of God became clouded with distractions after distraction, and temptation after temptation. In fact, all those good things I had learned seemed non-existent. I was in the desert and feeling all alone.

On Good Friday, we had the Eastern Rite celebration of the Burial of Christ, which I had never seen before. It was really beautiful! And then the Resurrection!

Something beautiful happened to me on Easter. Over and over I heard the words, "Christ is risen! Truly he is risen!" and these words repeated themselves over and over in my heart. Suddenly a great weight was lifted from my heart. Not only was my physical health returning but my peace as well.

Suddenly I became aware of the greatest gift I had received at Madonna House. Love!

While I had been sitting in bed hopelessly wondering where Christ was, acts of selflessness with no expectation of anything in return were being given to me each day—by the nurses, by those who brought me my meals, by those who visited me. The whole time Christ had been loving me through the members of the community.

It was the both the best and the worst Lent of my life and the greatest Easter as well.

What graces I was given at Madonna House! I hope that throughout my life I will pray with trust, do little things well for the love of God, and know that silence is more than a broken radio. Most of all, with the grace of God, may I always try to love others as I was loved here.