The Nun Was Right
When I was a teenager, my mother befriended a group of nuns from a convent in our hometown. I vividly remember visiting them from time to time. My mother went more often, but occasionally she would take me along — usually when I was off from school or had free time.
I loved visiting their convent. What struck me most was how impeccable it always was. The tile floors sparkled, as if someone were constantly polishing them. I remember one particular visit when the Mother Superior, Sister Maria de San José, told us a story. She said that whenever they happened to crave a particular food or treat, without fail, someone would show up unexpectedly with exactly that item. They lived very simply; their order was dedicated to deep contemplative prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. Her point was simple and confident:
“God always provides.”
I was very young, but I absorbed everything. Their lifestyle fascinated me. How could a group of women live together with such simplicity, such order (at least from what I witnessed), and such joy?
Sister Maria de San José invited us a few times to stay for supper. It felt like such a gift. The meals were simple but delicious, and I loved the harmony around their dining table — the prayerful way they entered into the act of sharing a meal.
“God will provide…”
How many times have we felt that our lives are a little out of control? Or that our prayers, our needs, our deepest longings are not being answered? No matter our “level” of spirituality, we all experience dryness in faith. Moments when we are physically present in prayer, yet feel as though nothing is happening — nothing shifting, nothing transforming within us.
The past few weeks have been challenging for me. Life is like that. It is not meant to be only joy; it also includes struggle — even moments of spiritual dryness, of desolation. And we work through them.
Recently, a series of meaningful events unfolded. A Godly presence, if you will. For me, that is exactly what it felt like. I believe some experiences do not simply happen by chance; there is something spiritual moving beneath them.
A few days ago, as I was walking out of church toward the office, a young man — maybe in his thirties — whom I’ve known casually for a few years stopped me. We’ve seen each other at church many times but had never really spoken. He gently asked, “Can I pray for you?”
I was hesitant, if I’m honest. Uncomfortable. I almost brushed it off. But then I thought, How can I say no to prayer? He wasn’t pushy; he simply said it would be brief. So I said yes.
He began praying. A few seconds in, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to receive it. It was one of the most beautiful prayer moments I’ve experienced in a long time. It filled me with peace, strength, and hope. Something else happened afterward — something he shared — that left me quietly stunned. That part is for me and a few close loved ones. But it was, without a doubt, a God-sighting.
Later that same evening, I stepped out of my car to run into a store. Right at my feet was an icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, facing upward as if waiting to be noticed. People often seek her intercession in hopeless situations, for healing and comfort. I didn’t know much about her before, but she now holds a special place in my heart. Coincidence? I don’t think so. I prefer to call it a divine coincidence — a God-incidence.
The following day, I had taken the day off from work. A church friend had reached out asking if I would be in the office because she had something for me. I told her I had switched my day off but would be back the next day. True to her word, she stopped by then with a beautifully wrapped gift box tied with ribbon.
Inside was a personalized coffee mug that read:
“Good morning, Maria. This is God. I will be handling all of your problems today. I will not need your help. So relax and have a great day.”
As they say, three’s a charm.
Three beautiful, tender reminders of faith.
As the nun from my childhood once said, “God provides.” Faith is trust in a loving God. It is the capacity to hold tension and anxiety while embracing the unknown without fear, because deep in our hearts we know we are being held.
It’s hard to explain the peace these three unexpected gifts brought into my life.
I may become distracted at times. I may experience dryness. But I always know — I am held by a loving God who carries me in the palm of His hand.
