Impossible

We were married on Easter Saturday. It was the perfect choice, six months to the day of our meeting with our parish priest—the bare minimum required for couples preparing for marriage. (What can I say? Love is eager.) And it was a marvelous day, full to the brim of glimpses of heaven, from the swelling voices of our friends and family singing the beautiful hymns we’d chosen to the wisps of aromatic incense rising up to God, mirroring my joyous heart and grateful prayers.

One of my favorite parts of the Mass was our readings. Most couples have the freedom to choose their own, but because our wedding Mass fell within the Easter Octave, God chose ours for us. We used the readings of the day, and they were perfect. They spoke of the uncontainable joy of the resurrection, the overflowing zeal of the apostles. We sang words of praise to God for answering our prayers in the psalm. The priest proclaimed the good news of Jesus’ triumph over death and His call to proclaim the Gospel to the whole world. But my favorite nugget, the words that have been echoing in my heart and mind ever since, are nestled in the first reading. The Jewish elders and scribes have just sternly warned Peter and John to stop preaching in the name of Jesus, and their immediate, unabashed response is this:

Whether it is right in the sight of God for us to obey you rather than God, you be the judges. It is impossible for us not to speak about what we have seen and heard.

Acts 4:19-20

I have been silent here for nearly two years, but not for lack of inspiration. I met Mark in January of 2023, and I soon slipped effortlessly into a glorious romance with the man who would become my husband. Suddenly I found myself bursting with inspiration, eager to share with anyone who would listen about this handsome, virtuous man who had captured my heart. I had so much to say—yet the contents of my heart were unspeakably precious. I couldn’t bring myself to expose this new love budding in the secret of my heart. Its fruit was no doubt visible to those around me, especially to those who could easily recognize that my smile had become brighter and step lighter. Yet broadcasting the unfolding of our romance for the whole world to see, for friends and strangers alike, felt like too much of a leap.

So I stepped away from writing.

But today, I’m coming back. Mark and I have been married for six months, and we are joyously awaiting the arrival of our baby boy in January. Our marriage has already born fruit, evidenced by my rapidly growing belly, and I am not content to keep the story to myself any longer. It’s simply impossible.

It is impossible for me not to speak—and write—about what I have seen and heard, about the intricate workings of God in my life. When I step back and reflect on what He has done in me over the past few years, I am filled with awe. He has brought me out of my hidden days in the convent, through the crushing weight of fresh grief at my dad’s sudden death, back into the world. My return was slow and measured, but eventually I found my place again, content among old friends in the city but unmistakably marked by years of living in prayerful poverty and months of processing deep sorrow.

It’s impossible to deny that God brought Mark and me together. He was the express answer to my prayers. I was preparing to renew my Marian consecration on December 8, the feast of the Immaculate Conception, and for 30 days I had been asking Jesus and Our Lady to send me a man who loved them more than me. On December 7, the eve of the feast, I received a message on Catholic Match from Mark. And so began our love story. We soon moved from messaging to phone calls, phone calls to FaceTime, FaceTime to our first date where we met in a museum parking lot and I said I feel like I know you already! We had our ups and downs as does any couple through the unfolding months, yet each day of knowing Mark, of discovering just what a good man he is and letting him come to know me more deeply, was marked by unmistakable peace. And peace is a telltale sign of God’s presence.

It’s impossible for me not to sing the praises of my beloved husband, the father of my growing baby, the man who works hard to provide for our family and picks up my slack and showers me with affection and encouragement and prayer. The week before our wedding, we went on a silent retreat for the Triduum, eager to prepare well for marriage. We briefly broke our silence each day to pray the rosary together, and as we finished and hugged after our first time of praying, I felt as if I were in the arms of Jesus.

Throughout these six joyful months of marriage, Mark has continued to show me the love of Jesus. Still our love is new and budding, still I tightly guard the things that are too precious to share, yet I cannot help but proclaim the goodness of God, who has answered my prayers with marvelous generosity in bringing Mark and me together.

No more can I keep it to myself—impossible.