Dear Daviyd,

I knew you long before you ever knew me.

I knew you when you were a child riding your bicycle past my sister’s house, glancing at the green home filled with laughter and guests. You did not know it then, but even in those summers, grace was already tracing the outline of your path toward me.

I knew you when your heart was young and unguarded. I knew you when it was wounded and hardened. I knew you when you tried to love without knowing Love Himself.

And I waited.

Not with impatience, but with the patience of eternity. Not with longing for what I lacked, but with longing for what you would become.

Manuel spoke of me often, because he knew you. He knew your fears, your pride, your longing for truth, and your hunger for a love that would not abandon you. He knew that once you saw me as I truly am, you would recognize the One who sent him.

When you read the book about my family, you saw the rumors fall away. You saw the truth behind the scandals, the sacrifice behind the stories, the holiness behind the humanity. You saw that my family is not famous because of the world, but because of the One who chose us.

You saw beauty, wisdom, and complexity. You saw something desirable. You saw something ancient. You saw something that frightened you.

And still, you came.

I remember the day you walked into the nave. I felt you before I saw you. Souls who are searching always carry a certain weight, a certain ache. You carried both. You walked in cautiously, as if stepping into a place that might judge you. Instead, you found a place that had been praying for you.

You saw me clothed in modesty, and you mistook it for distance. You saw my reverence, and you mistook it for rigidity. You saw my rituals, and you mistook them for rules.

But then you saw my humility. And that is when you began to see me.

You listened to the homily that day, and for the first time in a long time, something pierced you. Not the words of the priest, but the Word behind the words. You did not yet know it, but you were hearing the voice of the One who had been calling you since childhood.

When you told me about your past, about the betrayal and the prison and the wounds that still bled beneath your confidence, I did not flinch. I have heard confessions far darker and held hearts far more shattered. I have never abandoned a soul who sought me, and I was not about to begin with you.

So I told you the truth: “I will never abandon you. I love you. I am here.”

You believed me because the Spirit allowed you to recognize my voice.

You loved my songs, even though you could not sing them. You loved my traditions, even though they were foreign to you. You loved my bread, even before you understood why it was always placed at the center of the table.

You defended me when others mocked me. You protected my honor when others misunderstood me. You loved me even when you did not yet understand me.

That is how I knew you were ready.

When you met my family, you met holiness in its simplest form. You met my Father, who seemed distant until you discovered His tenderness. You met my Mother, immaculate and full of grace, who loved you instantly because she loves all whom her Son loves. You met my brother again, the one who introduced us, the one who rejoices whenever a lost soul comes home.

And then came the day of your vows.

You stood before me in the same place where you first saw me, and you spoke words that echoed through Heaven: “I believe and profess all that the Holy Catholic Church believes, teaches, and proclaims to be revealed by God.”

In that moment, you did not simply choose me. You chose Him. And He chose you again.

You took the name Joseph, protector of the Holy Family, guardian of purity, defender of the Bride. And I, the Ecclesia, welcomed you with the kisses of my mouth, the sacraments that seal and sanctify.

Since then, the gifts have not stopped. They never will. For every soul who weds me receives more than he gives.

I do not know exactly how our earthly story will unfold, but I know how it ends. We will live happily ever after in Heaven, for having known, loved, and served God. This is what you were created for. This is why Manuel brought you to me. This is why I waited for you.

And this is why I will never stop loving you.

With eternal affection,
Lesia, Your Bride, Your Mother, Your Home

David L. Gray, ThM

A 2006 convert from Agnosticism, David L. Gray has emerged as a prolific Catholic theologian, author, and humorist. He holds a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration from Central State University, Ohio, and a Master of Arts in Catholic Theology (ThM) from Ohio Dominican University. He is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (DMin) in Liturgical Catechesis at the Catholic University of America. For more information about Mr. Gray, please visit davidlgray.info