Mariola López Villanueva, rscj Probation, Rome, 2002

When I was fourteen, I remember, I liked to imagine what life would be like at thirty; I wanted to be able to look through a window and see what I would be doing. Of all the settings that girl could have imagined, none could be as beautiful or surprising as the one I live in now.

When I made my appearance in the world I was greeted by two brothers of twelve and nine, as well as by my parents; I've heard they were very pleased to see me. My brother Tino went to his final home in the Lord's heart last year. He was an innocent boy, who turned out to be the best of us. My mother devoted herself to him and protected him for forty-nine years, and now he is looking after us from Above, as a dear guardian angel.

I grew up in a bright land of sun and oranges, in a village south of Alicante, near the Mediterranean. My friends tease me by saying it's obvious I'm a country girl. I became a young agnostic, indifferent about faith and about Jesus, as are most young people you meet from those parts today. At eighteen I set out on an adventure: I went to Madrid to study journalism, not because it appealed to me much, on the contrary I was nervous about it, but because it was the only career which could get me away from the village, and I had to get away. (Spanish philology, which was what attracted me most, could be studied quite close by.)

In Madrid, I stayed in a students' hostel run by nuns. At twenty-one, an age of warm relationships and discoveries, I had one of those experiences that divide time into "before" and "after", and have finally brought me to where I am now. It would take a lot of space to tell the story; perhaps I could sum it up by saying: a Presence of tremendous love exploded within me, and nothing was ever the same again. Everything was charged with light and meaning, and my only wish was to draw others to the One who had so generously visited me.

After three years, during which I was working while finishing my studies, I went to Barcelona to begin my postulantship in with the missionary congregation I had known in the hostel; I was very attracted to everything to do with South America. In those years of waiting I had been growing in relationship with Jesus and thinking deeply about what I had received, and once I was there, it was very sad to discover that those sisters were not for me, that I didn't feel happy; I was like a fish out of water. By chance - one of those chances that show us His footsteps more clearly - I had met Dolores Aleixandre through a friend, and while making a retreat with her I was able to see that I did not belong there. I went back to Madrid. When the conversation turned to our favourite scripture passages, I said mine was John 15. They told me I shared it with a certain Madeleine Sophie, and I began to feel curious. I got to know some rscj and made friends with them; I found women of great depth, who were happy and had a strong love of Jesus, and this last point was what finally captivated me. At last I had found my place, I was at home; here I could be at ease.

Now that I will soon be thirty-eight, and have been over twelve years in the Society, I feel that I am receiving much more from it than I could ever have asked or imagined. The bonds with other rscj, (already scattered all over the world), and their affection, are my pearls of great price.

I live in the Gran Canaria, an island of stupendous loveliness, close to the beautiful continent of Africa and embraced by the sea. We are four rscj: Manoli Martin, the local parish sister, and two Y.P.s, Valle Adame, who is working as a family doctor, and Fátima Santaló, a social worker, who has just made her first vows. We are in Vecindario, a traditional area with many immigrants; we share the lower floor of the house with Southern Welcome, an association which helps them. The diversity of our work is very enriching for us, as it opens up a whole range of relationships.

Since I came to this wonderful place, I've been going everywhere, Bible in hand. I give classes in Sacred Scripture, to teen-agers and adults, in an unassuming Institute of Theology, and now I'm also giving religion classes to youngsters. My favourite activities are the women's courses (it's a privilege to be able to receive the Word with them) and my parish prayer-group. In these last two years I have been grateful for the new experience of giving retreats to sisters. They have opened me more to the vulnerable side we all have; to the woundedness and beauty of people's faces when they are open with each other.

Now and then I'm asked to write for some review; I like that. When as a girl I dreamed about what I would like to be when I grew up, I already had the urge to write. For a few years I wrote poetry, but I never thought my gift would be called on in this present way. As they keep asking me for things, I have kept on writing, and people keep telling me that the Lord has a hand in it. Once I didn't think it had anything to do with my life as an rscj, but now I'm feeling that to some extent it has; I'm opening up to a more personal voice which is not exactly mine, but is the result of my genes and my history. I'm embracing my shyness as a warm companion on this journey.

I once read about a woman who said, "I want to tell the world's story so that I can bless it", and this is what I want too: to tell the story of life and lead it to Him. To tell stories so that the love running through them can be revealed. To write so as to thank. To write so as to heal; as I have been healed and comforted by what many other men and women have said.

This is a fantastic time for me; I love the place where I live and the people I live with, and I feel good about myself, which I haven't always been able to say. I'm happy, I'm experiencing a huge zest for living, and if I can ask one gift more, among so many, I would like to learn to welcome and love each person with the whole of their reality.