Hello! I’m Walther, this is Peregrino, and you’re about to read essay #15 of “40 Before 40,” a memoir I intend to finish before I enter midlife. A few other pieces that people have enjoyed are “American Dream,” “Just Obese,” and “On Fatherhood.” The rest of the essays can be found here.
Coming Home: Part II picks up where Part I left off and goes through some events that had to happen to get me where I am now, kind of. This essay was getting lengthy, and I better save some stories for the next one. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one, and don’t forget to subscribe if you haven’t! Cheers!
New in Town
Getting started in a city where you know zero people is difficult. I didn’t have a car, and Uber wouldn’t be commonplace for a few years. I would take the bus or walk if I wanted to go anywhere. On Fridays, I would walk to a Chilli’s close to my apartment, eat chips and salsa, and drink beer. I thought I would have one of these magical moments you see in movies where the bartender asks the patron, “What’s on your mind?” and I would tell him that I’m new in town and don’t know a soul; then magically, a group of people my age would materialize in a booth and ask me to join them and partake of their Triple Dipper. This did not happen.
Instead, I developed a mild drinking problem and felt isolated and lonely. Thankfully, I had Otto checking on me via Skype, telling me to put myself together, go to the nearest Church, introduce myself to the pastor, and start meeting people in the Parish. He even sent me the address for St. Joan of Arc, “Here, this is your Parish. Go there.” And so I went.
Young Adult
I started attending St. Joan of Arc’s 12:30 Mass on Sundays in Spanish. I noticed the cantor was a very well-dressed Caucasian man who sang in Spanish well enough to make Mass very reverent and prayerful. I used to do musical theater in college and thought that maybe they had a choir I could join. I approached him after Mass on Sunday and asked him if he was looking for tenors for the Spanish Mass choir. He said no, but the 10:30 English Mass could use an extra tenor.
I auditioned for the choir and got in. It was the first time I met people outside work, and these men and women were roughly my age. This choir would be the gateway for meeting some of the people I’ve been friends with for about a decade.
I realized that the 10:30 Sunday Mass at St. Joan of Arc was among North Phoenix's most reverent, attracting many young Catholics looking for orthodox preaching, sound liturgy, and hymnody with some chant and polyphony courtesy of the schola.
Then I met Zack, who was responsible for youth and young adults ministry. The tallest, whitest New Mexican I have ever encountered. He recruited me as a core team member for the youth group. Suddenly, my Tuesday nights were booked; I was learning about the faith and eating pizza almost every week—all positive things.
Being around this group of people was extraordinary to me. In Mexico, the only person I would discuss Catholicism with was Otto. Suddenly, I was surrounded by men and women practicing the faith. And that motivated me to commit to living my faith authentically. I would call it peer pressure in a positive sense.
I believe this was a second conversion in that I recommitted myself to live sacramentally and to seek God’s will. I sensed that God put me in that place because He wanted me there for a reason I did not know yet, but I was soon to find out.
The Blessed Sacrament
I started attending young adult holy hours, where there would be some praise and worship and time for silent prayer. Then the Diocesan Center would have first Friday adoration and confession with a series of talks about the discernment of spirits.
Helping during retreats also allowed me to spend time in front of the Blessed Sacrament and get to know several priests of the Diocese of Phoenix, some younger than me.
I did not know who Bishop Olmsted was, but I’m grateful God put me in Phoenix while he was in charge because getting to know him and his writing has helped me strive to attain holiness.
Several parishes in Phoenix have perpetual adoration chapels, including St. Joan of Arc. I started popping in after we would wrap up with the youth group until I signed up to become an adorer once a week, which I have continued doing for about a decade.
It amazes me that Jesus is always waiting for me when I show up to meet Him. And most importantly that He hides under the appearance of a tiny white host so that I may not fear getting close to Him, Lord of Lords, King of Kings, the creator of the universe.
Vocation
At some point, I stopped asking Jesus for what I wanted and asked instead, “What do you want me to do?” It was the first time vocation became a thing in my mind. Yes, I knew I wanted to get married and be a father, but now I understood this would be part of my plan for salvation.
God, in His infinite wisdom, allowed Carlos, Zack’s college friend, to take a job in Scottsdale, Arizona, and for Carlos’ wife, Elissa, to work with Zack as the Jr. High youth group coordinator. I met both of them and volunteered with Elissa while everything I have told you until now was happening.
Elissa would be the person that introduced me to my wife, Diana. If you want the whole meet cute story, you can read it here. Answered prayers all around. I knew I wanted to be married and who I wanted to be married to; the rest should be simple, right?
There’s Something About Mary
When Diana and I were dating long distance, we would do a holy hour together but apart. She would go to adoration at St. Joseph’s in California, and I would go to St. Joan’s. Afterward, we would call each other and talk about what we were reading, what our holy hour was like, and most importantly, we were discerning being in a relationship. Thankfully both of us wanted to move forward.
Coming from Mexico, one of my qualms was how some expressed their devotion to Mary. Not in a protestant “Catholics worship Mary” way but in a “maybe some people’s devotion is borderline superstition” way. Diana sent me a copy of Bishop Fulton Sheen’s “The World's First Love: Mary, Mother of God.” That book's history, philosophy, and theology made me realize that even if some people’s devotion can be borderline superstitious, true devotion to the Theotokos doesn’t have to be. It benefits us all! Her children!
This was the precursor for my consecration to Jesus through Mary and getting enrolled in the Brown Scapular. My first and only tattoo is the image of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I submitted my application for naturalization on the feast of Our Lady of Fatima and became a citizen on the Solemnity of the Annunciation.
Pope Francis
Diana and I went to Italy for our honeymoon. One of the main things we wanted to do was to attend a Wednesday Papal Audience and sit in the Sposi Novelli section in our wedding attire. We got our tickets and headed over to St. Peter’s Square. Before the audience finished, some couples rushed to the gate leading to the steps of St. Peter’s Basilica. We didn’t know why, but we quickly caught wind of the situation.
We didn’t understand the instructions being yelled in Italian, but we followed everyone out of our little corral and into the steps. Since we weren’t first to the gate, we ended up on the third row of couples. I would’ve needed to have Reed Richards’ superpower to shake Pope Francis’ hand. I’m not going to lie; we were bitter and disappointed while it was happening. We came from so far away, and now we wouldn’t get a chance to look the vicar of Christ in the eyes and ask him for a blessing. Or would we?
I knew I had a secret weapon. I knew I could get the Holy Father’s attention if I spoke to him in his native tongue. So I yelled, “Papa Francisco, rece por nosotros!” asking him to pray for us and our marriages. Diana was outraged; how dare I address the Holy Father like that!? That was until he looked at us and said, “Recen por mi también! Aquí os veré en su aniversario de plata!” asking us to pray for him and that we will be in Rome again for our 50th wedding anniversary. We had talked to the pope, and he guaranteed our marriage will make it at least five decades.
Metanoia
Conversion is an ongoing process. We need to show up every day and choose who to serve. This essay is long enough for Part II, and I still have many little stories about our honeymoon/pilgrimage around Italy. If you made it this far, thank you, and see you next week!
Before you go
I have some questions for you
Have you ever been to Chilli’s? If so, name your favorite appetizer.
Do you have a favorite hymn/chant?
What’s your favorite Marian apparition?
Have you been to Rome?
Do you know what cheese is traditionally used in cacio e pepe?
Favourite chant - so hard! Adoro te devote, tantrum ergo, Ave maris Stella, vexilla Regis, there are so many.
2. Adoro Te Devote! Our parish sings it regularly in both English and Latin.
4. Yes, twice, God is so good! And I hope to go at least one more time before I die but who knows!
I’ve never personally been to the Diocese of Phoenix, but I have such an affection for Bishop Olmstead. He spoke at our gala the first year I worked for the JPII Foundation and was very supportive of the Together in Holiness conference when we brought it to the Diocese in 2019. I think he had retired by the time we came back in 2021, but I think of him very fondly. Complete My Joy was such a gift to read.