Finding Home

By Joe & Amy Leach

Our journey to St. Max has been unexpected, full of twists, turns, and beautiful surprises. Just seven months ago, we were parishioners at a church closer to our home, with no thought of leaving.

My husband and I are creatures of habit, comfortable where we were. I was deeply involved in parish life—as a lector, a member of the parish council, an extraordinary minister of Holy Communion, and in many other ways. Our parish was small and close-knit, a community we considered family.

I was reminded in prayer, just before my exposure to toxic mold in April, that when we are new in our faith, the Lord often gives us a clear path, allowing us to see where He is calling us. Over time, He calls us into deeper, unknown places, where we must trust Him. I shuddered. I knew from experience that these deeper calls often lead to the cross. I reached out to my sister group, asking for prayers, as I sensed it was time to enter this darkness. I had no idea that, as I walked into my home, I was about to come into contact with toxic mold during remediation efforts. The journey that followed was unlike anything I had experienced before. The darkness, the uncertainty, the physical frailty of my body, and the almost overwhelming panic were terrifying. For the first time in my life, I had no answers, and neither did my husband.

Attending daily Mass at our parish became impossible. The mold caused neurological changes in me, leading to severe muscle weakness and twitching. My body became so sensitive after the main exposure that I could detect any trace of mold, anywhere. Just like that, I could no longer attend daily Mass. I had to step down from my roles and stay home to heal. My strength, my time with Jesus—taken away.

Friends, family, and fellow parishioners prayed for me, but with an invisible illness, they didn’t know how to help. In time, it felt as if everything I had known had completely faded away, and I was left alone.

I remember a moment of silence—spiraling, looking inward to "fix" myself. I tried everything I could to get better, to heal. I cried out to Jesus, saying, “I am all alone!” But that was the lie I had come to believe. The truth is that, even in the storm, Jesus was right there with me. He was in my husband, my family, and my friends, who were praying, researching, and learning alongside me. In that moment of desperation and darkness, I, like Peter, took my eyes off Jesus.

It’s easy to do, isn’t it? When we find ourselves in a place of uncertainty, when everything we thought we had or knew is stripped away, we panic and look to ourselves to fix it. We can’t. Only God can. How did I lose sight of the One I loved above all?

In this season, I had to learn to seek Him again—not for what He could do for me, but for Who He is. I had to trust Him, surrender to His will, and allow Him to guide me. He was with me, helping me carry this heavy cross. When I cried, He cried with me. When I felt alone, He leaned in, reminding me that He was there. Through this, my trust deepened, my surrender grew, and my love for Him transformed.

Soon after, I began to feel better. My husband, determined to find a safe place for me to attend daily Mass again, suggested St. Max. He had come across the parish last year, during his own search, after the regular Masses at the parish close to his work became inconsistent. He quickly built relationships with others on a similar journey. After several failed attempts to return to our old parish, he insisted on bringing me to St. Max.

I worked up the courage to attend daily Mass in May, and to our relief, I had little to no reaction to any mold. My body began to relax, and I felt a sense of peace instead of the constant vigilance of scanning my environment to see if it was safe. We began praying for clarity, asking God to guide us as a family.

The parish where we had spent over 30 years—where my best friend long ago taught Youth Ministry and where we had celebrated both joyous and sorrowful moments—had always been home. It was where our children had received their sacraments, where my best friend had been laid to rest, and where our families were merged together as one. The idea of leaving was heartbreaking. Our hearts ached knowing our children feared they might lose the memories of their mother if they were no longer surrounded by the people and the place that held so many of those moments.

After much prayer and discernment, my husband felt strongly that we needed to attend Mass as a family in a place where we could all safely worship. Together. We couldn't know all the Lord's ways, but we felt called to St. Max.

I’ll never forget the morning after leaving Mass and Adoration, when I noticed all the cars in the parking lot clustered together in a way that strangely resembled the colors of our cars at home. Immediately, the thought "home" came to mind, and with that, a deep sense of peace settled in my heart about our decision to make St. Max our new parish.

The transition has been challenging for some of our children, but once we realized they could still participate in activities with our old parish youth group, their hearts opened. We’ve learned that we are all one community, one Church, no matter where we go.

We’ve been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love from the St. Max community. We’ve found that any time we have a question, concern or want to know more, there’s always a friendly response from whomever we encounter.

We’ve attended date nights for couples, family Holy Hour potlucks, and met many wonderful people, forming new friendships and connections. It has been a true blessing to be surrounded by a community that is deeply in love with Jesus.

We treasure the gift of this new parish home and feel as though we’ve found what we’ve been searching for. We never would have left our old parish voluntarily—it was our family - but in this season of our lives, we are leaning into the Lord’s will, trusting Him to guide us and our family. We are so grateful to be welcomed here at St. Max and look forward to whatever the Lord has in store for us in the years to come.

Thank you to everyone who has made us feel so at home and supported us on this pilgrimage of life and our journey to St. Max.