People are always surprised to see me on the eastside. I know because they tell me.

Every time I have a conversation with someone in the Walgreen's or grocery store, the question always comes:"What are you doing on this side of town?"

It makes me laugh because "this" side of town is my side of town. It's where I grew up...and I'm proud of where I've come from.

I had an odd experience recently.

It was a Sunday afternoon and I was driving to my grandmothers house. Something made me turn in the opposite direction before I got there.

Just off Walters St onto Grimes, I began to drive up the hill. I'm not sure what came over me but I wanted to see what the grounds around  "Our Lady of Victory" looked like. That's where I went to grade school as a girl.

It was your typical "all girls" Catholic School: Uniforms, nuns, daily praying of the rosary, the whole nine.

Once I got on the property, I noticed the old gate that my grandfather and I used to ride through in his old station wagon every morning.

It was open.

So many mornings we traveled that open road that led to the front of the school. I was hesitant about parking my car in the front outside the gate, because I could tell right away  the building that used to be a convent for the nuns, was now an active church.

I could hear people praying and singing inside.

I figured I'd only be a few minutes, so I got out and walked through the gate to my old school.

Once I made my way to the front of the building, I wasn't prepared for what I saw. The school was boarded up...some window panes were missing.

The old marker was still there, but now grafitti was splattered on top of it.

My eyes trailed over the huge building carefully. I could clearly see my old third grade classroom where I got my first piano lessons from Sister Theophila.

What had happened to my old school?

It was so run down. In some open spaces, birds had made nests.

I'd known for sometime that it was no longer an active school, but I thought surely the building was being used by some buisness or local organization.

I instantly felt sad.

I stood there motion ess for what seemed like hours. Images of my past quickly rushed through my head: Praying in the hallway, recess in the front, Latin class with Mr. Walker, checking out books in the library.

Before I knew it, I  began to cry.

Some of it was sadness, part of it was the acknowledgment that so many experiences that had shaped me as a young woman happened right here.

Oddly, it was all gone.

I was in the midst of a full circle moment and parts of it were surreal. A lot came flooding back to me.

Foremost was the fact that, I'd learned to study and pray at this school, I'd learned to share at this school, I'd learned to give back at this school, I'd became a young woman at this school.

I thought about where my life had come from, and where it is now. I thought about all the blessings that have come to me both personally and professionally, and how I appreciate them more because of this school.

It was the purest moment of knowing what it truly means to be grateful.

I stood there and reminisced, wiping my eyes I headed back to my car.

By the time I got back to where I had so inapproproately parked, the church service I'd expected was in progress had let out.

There stood a deacon at my car, wondering who had blocked the driveway. After he recognized me, he asked if he could introduce me to the rest of the congregation that was mingling inside.

How would I explain to a group of strangers that my eyes are red because I'd had "a moment" in front of my old school? 

Still, I cherished the opportunity to meet them. It was a perfect excuse to see what the inside of the old convent looked like now.

After meeting a wondeful group of people, something amazing happened. I told the members of the church why I was on the property, why I was unusually emotional... I'd been visiting a place once dear to me.

They knew the history of "Our Lady of Victory" well.

After talking at length, I soon found out that not only was the building barely standing and dilapidated, but it was about to be torn down and the grounds cleared away.

I felt my soul sink.

That is, until I heard about plans the congregation has to build another school on the property:

Their goal is to create an academy that will train young boys to become men. I jumped at the chance to offer my help...

"Whatever...i t doesn't matter. Time, money, anything to make it happen," I said.

They were pleasantly surprised.

So now, in the new year, I am so looking forward to something fantastic on the horizon. I will be working with a church that's in the process of developing a school on the same property that had a profoundly personal and spiritual foundation in my own life.

Now, I know exactly why my car turned up the hill to my old school that day.

It was destiny: the divine path that leads me everyday.... in the exact direction.... .. I should be going.