Your Story. My Heart.

Jen Scheuermann reflects on her own faith journey after meeting the woman whose witness sparked her reversion.

I knew your name.
Your face.
And parts of your story.
But I didn’t know you.

I followed from behind my screen,
reading each post you shared
about the most difficult period of your life.
You revealed a piece of your heart.
And somehow, my own heart changed in response.

Your words were so painful.
Yet somehow ... still beautiful.
They introduced me to a new kind of beauty—
beauty found only in hope
directed somewhere outside of this world.

Slowly, I stumbled down a new path,
inexplicably drawn by a force I couldn’t see.
Such tentative steps at first,
carrying me to an unknown destination.

The world around you crashed.
Your heart broke. Shattered.
My tears flowed for you.
Still ... I knew only your name.
A piece of your story.
But I didn’t know you.

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One foot in front of the other, I kept walking.
Traveling a new path.
Journeying to a foreign place
that somehow felt like home.

Everything changed. Even words.
Love, Hope, Peace—all with new definitions.
A miracle inside my heart.
Healing, when I hadn’t realized it was broken.
Wholeness, when I hadn’t known pieces were missing.

Your words.
The way you shared your story.
The way you shared your heart—
This changed me forever.

A year passes. Then another.
I’m so restless …
Does He want me to tell you?
Oh so many drafts of that letter.
Praying for words because my own wouldn’t do.

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Your witness moved a mountain inside my heart.
But you don’t know me.
And I don’t know you.
Still, you saved my life, and I need you to know:
Because of you, I know who God is.

My letter—
Finally complete, and in the mail.
Would it make it into your hands?
Would you open it? Read it?

Would it help you to know
God somehow brought good from this tragedy?
Would it help you to know
the role you played in my life?

A nagging voice quietly criticizes,
And I pray I heard Him correctly.
What if He’d meant it only for me?
What if I shouldn’t have mailed the letter?

Click to tweet:
You saved my life, and I need you to know: Because of you, I know who God is. #catholicmom

Years pass, and we’re in the same room.

Slowly I approach.
Pounding so loud in my chest—surely you hear it.
Tears threatening to spill.
Barely able to breath.
I’m nervous. Anxious. Scared.
And that nagging question resurfaces: Had the letter upset you?

We made eye contact,
but I was silent.
So many words when I type or write,
yet none when I try to speak.
Opening my mouth would yield only sobs.

You see my name on my shirt.
A brief pause. My world stills.

And then: recognition flickers in your eyes.

You grab me.
Pull me close. Hold me.
Hugging me, as I hug you.
Tears flow freely.
But who knows if they’re yours or mine?

My letter had not upset you.
You've kept it all these years.
Just as I've kept the lessons your words taught me
typed in a note on my phone.

My heart has never been so full:
Seeing you in person.
Talking to you. Holding you.
Looking into your eyes and thanking you.

You shared your story. Your witness.
And though I don’t really know you,
I will always love you,
And forever hold you dear in my heart.

Let me remember this moment always.
And may I never forget that God is so good at being God.

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