I was so excited when I received an invitation to attend my school reunion. I had no idea what God had in mind for me, so I just trusted that I would be able to go and that He would make the trip possible.

My husband and I had to work hard to find the money to cover the expenses of food, gas, air fare, and incidentals for a two-week stay in Wisconsin. I was able to stay at the homes of family and friends once I arrived there, but it was still a long expensive trip.

I flew from Pittsburgh to Midway Airport in Chicago, where one of my daughters met me. Then we were off to her home where a car for my other travels was waiting for me. However, after a closer look, we realized that the car needed some repair work before I could begin my travels. I felt that the devil was trying to upset my plans, and I prayed to remain calm.

After a one-day delay, I arrived at my sister’s home in Algonquin. We left there for our next destination, Wisconsin Dells, where we spent the night. The next day, we visited my oldest sister who had just had hip surgery. She was still in the hospital, but she was progressing well thanks to God’s love and the many prayers of family and friends.

The next day, we left for the much-anticipated school reunion. The sun was just emerging after a rainstorm when we arrived. As we greeted other classmates, happy memories began to flood over our souls. We talked of many things – of city folks that moved to the country, of families grown to include grandchildren, of what we were doing now. I talked about my prayer ministry for the abused, and I gave my classmates prayer cards to share with others, especially with their churches. I gave them an additional 250 cards for members of the community.

After the reunion, we traveled west, through an area my dad called “God’s country” where winters are cold and harsh and snow often made the roads impassable except by snow shoes. We were headed to a mission church to celebrate Mass. Father John was warm and pleasant, and Mass was celebrated with great joy and enthusiasm. Father John and I talked after Mass, and I shared information about my ministry with him. He was eager to learn more about the ministry’s work with the abused. Once again, God opened the door not only to this church but also to three mission churches where Father worked as well. God reminded me that I should stop trying to count the number of prayer partners that were joining the ministry.

Tired but full of joy, we traveled to our next stop. I told my hostess that I would take her 35-year-old daughter to church since she had not been able to go for some time. After services, I shared the prayer ministry with the interim pastor, who requested ministry materials to take with her to her church in Texas.

Later that afternoon, we returned to Spring Green where my oldest sister was now home from the hospital. We shared the many blessings we had experienced on the trip so far. We read “The Well,” which I had brought with me. Both of my sisters enjoyed the publication, and they are looking forward to receiving more copies that I promised to mail to them.

Before leaving Spring Green, I shared my ministry with my sister’s priest. I gave him copies of information about my abuse ministry that I had brought with me. The more I shared, the more he wanted to hear. He told me that he would like to share the ministry with others. He writes for his diocesan paper, and he also has a mission church. He is planning to share the prayer and the work the ministry does with all those he comes in contact with.

I left there on a Holy Spirit high, glowing with joy. Thank you, my sweet Lord.

Since I was not able to keep an earlier appointment that I had made with the minister of Lambsfold, a women’s shelter, I felt disappointed. So I decided to call her, and she requested information about the ministry. She asked that I get in touch with her the next time I visit Wisconsin, and she promised to make time to see me.

Sunday was fast approaching, so we decided to go to Mass at St. Patrick’s, which was around the corner from my other daughter’s house. Father greeted me after Mass with, “Are you a new parishioner or a visitor?”

I responded that I was a visitor from St. Angela Merici Church in White Oak where I have a prayer ministry for the abused. I told him that after only two years, there are thousands of prayer partners in 28 states and 4 countries.

Father replied that he knew someone who would be very interested in the ministry. He told me to call his office to get the phone number of Deacon Peterson. I thanked him again and again, and I promised to call the very next day.

When I talked to Deacon Peterson, he listened intently as I talked about myself, the prayer ministry, and all. He questioned me, and I shared all I knew. Then, to my surprise, he told me that he is also the chaplain of Statesville Correctional Center in Illinois, one of the biggest in the state. He stated that he would also like to pass the information on to Dwight Women’s Correctional Center in Illinois.

I was overwhelmed to think that just when I thought God was done, He had much, much more for me to do.

Now that I am back home, I am busy forwarding information about the ministry to all those who requested it. I am so thankful that God is able to use me to accomplish His great work on this earth. And His message to “Stop counting” is coming through loud and clear!