Come Inside!
I recently flew from Hawaii to Madison, Wisconsin, to help my daughter move into her first post-college apartment. Here she was, launching a promising career with a vibrant company and a grown-up space to call her own. As we hauled garbage bags and boxes stuffed with clothes and her few college treasures, I marveled at how far she’d come from the white sands and easy trade winds of her youth.
Strolling down the long hallway to her apartment, my gaze was drawn to the welcome mats—or their absence—that punctuated the gray carpet at each doorway. Each mat expressed something about the person inside. “Wipe Your Paws!” screamed dog lover. “You Shall Not Pass!” shouted Tolkien fan. “Just Say Cheese!” hollered Wisconsin pride. No mat? Either the place was empty, or those floors needed some serious Swiffing!
In full-on mom-mode, I prayed that kind neighbors surrounded my daughter. I also became oddly obsessed with finding her the perfect welcome mat—one that would capture her spirit without being too boisterous. It was early July, with heat, humidity, and lush green trees wrapping Madison in a summer hug. But my thoughts drifted to the Wisconsin winter ahead—snow, slush, mud, grime! Her mat needed to be more than cute; it had to stand up to all the messy days that lay ahead.
Back home in Hawaii, “E Komo Mai” doormats say “Come Inside! Rest awhile!” We wouldn’t find one in Madison, but I hoped she’d choose something with that same warmth.
Providence
We hit the big-box “home” stores—Home Depot, HomeGoods, Target, At Home—scouting for furniture, dishes, towels, and essentials. But I kept wandering to the doormat aisle, returning with whimsical, colorful mats in hand. She shot each one down with an exasperated sigh that meant, “Let it go, Mom!”
Finally, at our last stop, she almost blindly plucked a simple half-dome coir mat off a shelf and tossed it into our “wagon” (Hawaii’s word for shopping cart). The tag on the mat included its name: Providence.
“Providence”—God’s protective care. It felt like God was reminding me not to worry—He has her well-being in His hands. This half-moon mat, etched with a sunrise design, wasn’t bright or flashy. It was humble, like our Lord Jesus Christ, and it reflected my daughter’s soul: warm, unpretentious, rays of Hawaiian light now shining in Wisconsin, inviting new friends to come in out of the cold and stay awhile.
Regret and Hope
The welcome mat stirred an ache in me that bubbles up in moments when God’s voice touches my heart. I long to share His word and my love for Jesus with my children, but I hold back. The harder I knock with my faith at their hearts’ door, the more they retreat. Growing up in Hawaii, their days brimmed with beach time, hikes, ocean exploration, academics, and sports. Sunday Mass or daily prayer? Those were sidelined. I once thought letting them find faith on their own was best, but now, as a Catholic who’s truly come home to Jesus, I regret not sharing my faith more boldly when they were young.
In my heartache, my thoughts turn to Saint Monica, who wept and prayed for years for her son Augustine’s conversion. Her words, “Nothing is far from God,” give me hope. And I entrust God’s providence to draw all my children, like the Prodigal Son in Jesus’ parable, home to His welcoming light.
A Prayer for Our Children’s Homecoming
Heavenly Father,
In the chaos of this world, lead our children to You, where, as Saint Augustine said, “Our hearts find rest.” Grant me the grace of Saint Monica’s steadfast faith, to continue to pray they all return home to Your welcoming light, just as in Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son, and there be filled with the joy and peace of Your merciful love. May they seek the door to Your Sacred Heart and enter in.
Jesus, I trust in Your words: “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you” (Matthew 7:7, RSVCE). May our children accept the grace of Your faith, which will lead them to Your door. For You promise: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me” (Revelation 3:20, RSVCE).
Amen.
Hope in Christ
Days later, as I stood in her doorway and kissed her goodbye, my gaze fell on the “Providence” mat. Sunrise? Sunset? My heart turned to the permanent presence of the Son in our lives, by day and by night. I know that Christ’s light is always shining on her, drawing her home.
