A Knock, a Door, and the Journey from Seton to JPCatholic

Growing up, my older brother and I trespassed upon one another’s time with callous freedom. He, in particular, maintained a candid method of announcing his imminent intrusion upon my thoughts.

The Intrusion

BANG BANG BANG!

Three sharp knocks, immediately followed by the crack of my bedroom door flying open, were the unmistakable signs that Raphael desired conversation. The crack came from the inner knob’s collision with the wall.

The wall sustains an ugly dent, and the poor door, faulty hinges.

I had my own routine reaction. “What do you want? I’m busy.” Careful disdain was my modus operandi with Raphael; without jealous time-guarding, we were liable to spend hours talking.

And that day we did: the day he introduced me to JPCatholic.

BANG BANG BANG!

Crack! “I’m leaving for college next month. You should come.”

“What?!” Leaving? Next month? I was too shocked to feign hostility.

“It’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a college. Trust me.”

The Lure of JPCatholic

He made me browse the JPCatholic website, and I was dazzled. It was my dream, a thriving Catholic community with daily Mass and confession; illustration and creative writing programs, and a continued life
in California.

I was tired of community college, tired of guarding against thinly veiled socialism and the sick fear that—in a split second—my friends would cancel me for my faith.

Gratitude and Growth

Coming to JPCatholic was breathing fresh air. It was finding home.

Simply put, there’s a magic to this place. I spend my days plugging away at projects in the company of my husband, my brother, and my best friend—and countless other talented, charming people. Life is a breathtaking whirlwind of love-filled prayer and work.

It’s a life made possible by many blessings, among them my time with Seton. Seton students, know your advantage. Really. Seton organized my mind; it ingrained a sense of structure within me. And structure promises success: every fragment of formal training
is invaluable.

I know that, in 9th grade, writing about Robinson Crusoe seems unglamorous and unimportant—but it is important, and the glamor comes later. Seton gave me a box; now I can think outside of it. Seton built me a foundation; now I can build cathedrals. Seton assigned me essays; now, I can write anything.

Because of both institutions, I’m now a writer—not perfect, but operative. And I will forever be grateful to Seton and JPCatholic for making me one—and for that first destructive knock on my door.