Shannon Hagedorn ‘15
Learning Specialist, Academic Services for Student Athletes

On Sunday evenings, a rock band led the covenant church praise and worship service with drums and guitars. Some people waved their hands in the air, some even swing-danced in the open spaces. In the back of that converted community building and somewhat hidden by the darkness, between belting out songs at the top of my lungs, I filled sticky notes in my Bible fastidiously.  

By the time I could drive myself to attend these praise and worship services, I had already been independently and organically cultivating my relationship with God for a few years. My family didn’t pursue organized religion, but in seventh grade, when I explored world religions in Social Studies, I started to investigate my sense of something greater than me and a greater reason for my existence. I felt lost and alone but hoped to find a guide and a friend.

I began to experiment in conversing with God. I didn’t know what to expect, what to say, or how to navigate it, but I sat in my bed every night, looked up to the ceiling and just talked to God. I’d share about my day, ask for help, and express my wishes; sometimes, I’d even try to bargain for a good grade on a test!

Despite a desire to attend church and experience a faith community, I didn’t know where I belonged. I knew it was worth pursuing and tried to find my way towards my spiritual home. Bed time conversations with God and eventually Sunday evening jam sessions were the breadcrumbs I followed to the sense of peace—that “something more”—for which I yearned.

At the church I attended, they often talked of baptisms they performed on retreats to a hotel in Palm Springs. It stirred an insatiable hunger in my heart and I constantly dreamt of being baptized. Yet, while I desperately wanted to make my relationship with God official, a dunk in a hotel pool in the desert just didn’t feel quite right for me.

One day in March of my senior year in high school, I came home to find another breadcrumb: a “welcome home” packet from Notre Dame sitting on the doorstep. A few weeks later, I set foot on campus for the first time and instantly felt the sacredness of this place. I could hear God calling me home to Notre Dame and, although I had no idea what this meant for my faith journey at the time, I could see I had to take this next step.

A few months later, my mom sent a care package and included a brochure from Campus Ministry advertising the Rites of Christian Initiation for Adults process. My mother, of all people, put a sticky note on it and suggested I attend!

I started the RCIA process with Campus Ministry by sharing about my journey with God and identifying all of the breadcrumbs I had been following to arrive at that point. As I told my faith story for the first time, I cried. In that moment, I finally recognized that, more than anything, I wanted and needed to join the Catholic Church.

Mass followed a totally different structure than my previous praise and worship experiences, but I found comfort in its order and the powerful presence of Jesus in Communion. Although I had many doubts, questions, and fears, I felt guided by God throughout the process, which gave me the confidence I needed to continue.

During my Baptism at the Easter Vigil, the feeling of weight—and then weightlessness—overwhelmed me. In my Confirmation, unparalleled warmth and comfort filled me. When I received the body of Christ in the Eucharist, the intensity humbled me. In a moment unlike any other experience in my life, I no longer felt incomplete. I could totally surrender and be enough. Basking in the light and the love of God, I was finally home.

The breadcrumbs along the way led me to the Bread of Life.