Habemus Papam!

Christine Johnson shares how her dream trip to Rome coincided with the election of Pope Leo XIV.

When I was a very small girl, maybe around 5, I asked my father, “Daddy, where does the pope live?” He answered that he lived in Rome, Italy, and since that day, I dreamt of going to Rome to see the pope.   

Last September, my husband and I booked a trip to fulfill this lifelong dream for me. We were going to Rome for nearly twp weeks and staying in the Prati neighborhood. Our plan was to leave just before my birthday, arriving in Rome the morning of April 27, then leaving the morning of May 8. Our lodging would be about a 15-minute walk from St. Peter’s Basilica.   

Air Italia notified us, saying, “Please note that, for operational reasons, we had to change your flight AZ618 … dated 08-05-2025 as follows:” with a note that we would depart exactly 24 hours later than we’d originally planned. Thinking there was nothing much we would have done anyway, we booked a room at the Marriott close to the airport and left it at that. “We’ll chill out at the hotel and get some rest.”  

I've Always Wanted to See the Pope

My whole life, I’ve wanted to go to Rome to see the pope. That was happening: we had tickets to two papal audiences, as well as tickets for the Sistine Chapel and Vatican Museums, and we’d requested a tour of the Scavi below St. Peter’s to see the tomb of St. Peter.  

Then Pope Francis passed away Easter Monday. No pope.   

His funeral happened the morning we flew out of Washington, DC and was over before we even left the airport.   

People were sorry for me to miss the pope, but I kept saying, “The whole trip is a blessing! Whatever happens, it’s a blessing!”  

Everything was amazing. We walked so much, and we saw so many beautiful churches. We went through every Holy Door at least once and made the trip up the Scala Santa on our knees. We took along intentions of family and friends and prayed for them all at every church we entered. We climbed the Dome of St. Peter’s and went to Mass at the altar of the Cathedra.  

The conclave began, and we went to St. Peter’s Square on May 7 to watch for the smoke. I knew it wouldn’t be white: it’s never the first vote. We went out for a drink and then back to our lodging. The next morning, we had to leave Prati and head to the Mariott, so we missed the morning vote and smoke. We met up with other pilgrims for lunch at L’Isolla della Pizza, then wandered around a bit, waiting to go back around 4:30 and meet up for another smoke watch.   

We all chatted with each other, laughing at the seagulls, discussing when each of us arrived (since several of the folks in the group had flown in to witness the conclave events). A family of seagulls, baby in tow, showed up again on the smoke cam. We made up a song about the baby seagull, and while we were laughing and cheering, it happened.  

WHITE. SMOKE.  

While everyone in the square cheered, I started sobbing, “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! IT HAPPENED! IT’S A POPE! OH MY GOD!” All I could think was that God is so good — that He is so good to me.   

The night before, I kept saying, “I think it’ll be tomorrow. I think there is a reason our flight was pushed back. I think we’ll have a pope.” I’d packed my purse with all the religious articles I had purchased for family (including a Rosary for my grandson, due in August). And even though people kept saying it would probably be Friday, I kept saying, “No, I think it’s going to be Thursday.”  

And there I was, not even 100 yards from the steps of St. Peter’s, watching smoke pour from the smokestack and crying and hugging my husband. The bells of St. Peter’s, which had gone silent before the first conclave vote, started ringing. The smoke kept on coming. I kept on crying.   

When I’d stopped sobbing quite so uncontrollably, I pulled out my phone to call my father. He was the only person I wanted to call in that moment. Since about 100,000 people were doing the same thing, I texted “POPE” to our family in the big group chat and continued to try to call Dad. When I got through, the tears started again. “DAD! DAD! THERE’S A POPE! There’s a pope and I’M HERE!! I’m in the square! I can see the smoke!” We cried together and then got off the phone.   

When they finally came out to announce it, it was like a dream.   

Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum: Habemus papam.  

We all started cheering and crying again. When he announced (in Latin) “Robert Francis Prevost” we were all confused. No one really knew who he was, and just about everyone in the square started pulling out phones to figure it out. The word started spreading through the crowd in pockets: He’s an AMERICAN! He’s been in Peru. He’s chosen LEO! Leo XIV!!   

We were all so giddy and excited. When he finally came out, the cheers were nearly deafening.  

Papa! Papa! Leone! Leone! Viva Papa!  

Flags from different countries waved, everyone cheered and cried some more.   

His message was unintelligible to me for the most part. My Duolingo Italian didn’t cover most of what he said, but I recognized the verb for “need.” My husband commented suddenly, “Wait, he’s switched to Spanish!” And then it was back to Italian.   

Suddenly, it was time for his first Apostolic Blessing as pope. I bowed my head, then looked up at him: Pope Leo XIV. Our new holy father. Our new pope. My heart was so full. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world, because at that moment, inside I was that little girl who asked her father, “Daddy, where does the pope live? Can I visit him?”  

I was visiting the pope. My dream had come true.  

I’m still on cloud nine, and I don’t think I’ll be moving off any time soon. As of writing this, it’s Mother's Day, and I am still floating on air. It still feels dream-like. I can’t wait to go back someday, but in the meantime, I am just in awe of how very, very good God is to me.   

God is good all the time. 

And all the time, God is good.   

Pray for Pope Leo XIV. Pray for our Church. Pray for the world, as the pope asks us to pray and work for peace.  

Share your thoughts with the Catholic Mom community! You'll find the comment box below the author's bio and list of recommended articles.

Copyright 2025 Christine Johnson
Images: copyright 2025 Christine and Nathan Johnson, all rights reserved.