My pilgrimage to Rome in March 2023 happened while I was attending RCIA classes to become Catholic. I was baptized and received my first Holy Communion the following month, in April.
The year leading up to my baptism was astonishing. I experienced many coincidences that had God’s hands all over them. My ticket to Rome was no exception.
I wasn’t aware of the pilgrimage until January when a campus missionary mentioned an unexpected opening among participants for the trip, and I asked for more information. I needed to decide quickly about whether to go so arrangements could be made. As I was debating, I received an unexpected refund from school of almost the exact amount needed for the trip. So, I went.
I was still very new to the Church and her teachings. I didn’t know all the common prayers from memory or how to recite the rosary. I knew about few famous saints or popes. However, the pilgrimage was an extraordinary spiritual experience, even with the uncertainty I felt. I am thankful to have gone. As I look back, I feel blessed.
The people I went with were incredible. Some made a huge impact on my life. One woman whom I roomed with is one of the holiest people I have ever met – genuine, personable, bubbly, kind and selfless. I was lucky she was by my side on the day we visited the Scala Sancta, or Holy Stairs.
The tradition is to kneel on each of the 28 white marble steps in the staircase, saying an “Our Father” and a “Hail Mary” and then kissing the step before moving to the next one. I realized I had forgotten my prayer cards that the missionary had given to me. I felt unprepared and vulnerable.
As I frantically searched my bag for the cards, my roommate told me not to worry; she would quietly pray with me on every step until I got it.
As we started, she mostly led the prayers. I mumbled along, feeling vulnerable, but she was kind and selfless. We were in Rome, and she might never return, but she joyfully sacrificed the moment for me in a heartbeat.
When we were about five stairs in, someone asked us to pray silently. I froze, feeling embarrassed. My roommate didn’t miss a beat, kindly but firmly whispering that I was still learning the prayers.
She then started praying again, as if nothing had happened. At this point, I was close to tears – I’m sure she heard it in my voice – but she acted as if she didn’t. She slowly challenged me to say part of the prayers alone, kindly correcting or prompting me when I went silent.
We had almost made it to the top, and I finally could recite both prayers myself. When she realized I had mastered them both, she looked up at my tear-streaked face with joy, squeezed my hand, leaned in and whispered, “You did it!”
We each prayed alone on the last couple of steps. As I looked up at Jesus on the cross, I wept tears of sorrow and joy as I prayed. Now daily, as I repeat the prayers, I think of that moment and that woman’s generosity.
Jesus works through His servants, and I feel blessed that I experienced Him so profoundly in that moment.
Kelsey Moore is a student at Ohio State University who attends the Columbus St. Thomas More Newman Center.