It was a month ago (a month and two days, technically) that I was received into the Catholic Church. It feels far more recent than that, but at the same time it’s like I’ve been here my entire life.

In the weeks following Confirmation, I’ve felt more at home in myself. There are subtle shifts that would’ve been foreign to me a year ago, but now they’re the only things that make sense. Like, my to-read pile includes books on saints, women in the Church, and examen studies. I keep a rosary in my purse (came in handy at prayer study last night). There’s a tiny St. Edith charm hanging from my phone. In a sense, I don’t recognize myself. On the other hand, this “self” is the most genuine I’ve probably ever been. I’m comfortable in my skin, with all its faults, because I feel the Spirit stirring within me. When I first poked my head into the Catholic faith, I felt a completion in it. I had no idea then how complete it is. Nor will I ever. Nor will I ever truly be complete, not while I’m on this earth.

And that’s a big difference, too—I never understood the point of being here, really. When you’re taught to accept Jesus simply so you can achieve salvation, then what’s the point of the rest of this life? Why doesn’t He just take me Home? Because there’s work to be done here. There are people to reach and to connect with. There’s more to learn, and to experience. I know I’ve been taught this before, but it was overshadowed by things of lesser importance.

I won’t pretend that everything has been great and wonderful this month. I’ve had low points. It was frustrating. How could I feel so crummy when I’m constantly in His presence? But He lifts me up even in those times. Even, maybe especially, when I don’t put Him first. My crummy days are a gentle reminder of His greatness. Because I can’t, nor will I ever be able to, do this alone.

I’ve started to reach out. I joined another young adult group. I’ve started attending Mass here more, rather than my “home” parish an hour away. North Jersey will always be home, in a sense, because that’s where the journey began. But even though I haven’t registered at a parish here, and I haven’t made close friends yet, I’ve emotionally started to plant my roots. This is where He’s brought me, so this is where I belong.

At Mass this evening, I stared at the altar and was reminded that I’m no longer a visitor. You belong here, Jesus said, and I was filled with awe and disbelief. May I never grow weary of that reminder. May I always feel joy at receiving the Eucharist.

What has my first month as a Catholic been like? I can’t begin to describe it.