A few months ago, I went on pilgrimage to Ireland with a group from my university. It was led by a faculty member who is himself a native Irishman. From start to finish, it was an absolutely incredible trip. Ireland had been on my bucket list for as long as I can remember.

Our group toured Dublin, pub-hopped in Galway, visited the Cliffs of Moher in the wind and rain, and climbed the twenty-five-hundred-foot summit of Croagh Patrick. However, for me, the true summit of the trip was visiting the Shrine of Our Lady of Knock.

At Knock, our Lady filled me with interior peace and renewed my trust in God’s plan, healing a struggle I have dealt with for years.

From the beginning of high school, vocational discernment has been a burden for me. Ever since I can remember, I have desired to be a wife and mother, a homemaker. I was never drawn to a specific career path. Despite my desire to get married one day, I was always uneasy and anxious that God might be calling me to the consecrated life.

I told myself over and over that whatever I am called to, I will be the happiest I can possibly be. But the weight of anxiety persisted. No matter how much I tried to move past those thoughts, the voice was always in the back of my mind.

Little did I know that voice would be quieted by the grace of God in the silence of Knock.

A Silent Apparition

Knock is a tiny village in northwest Ireland with only a couple pubs, some shops, and a few hotels. It seems like a strange place to bring fifty college students.

But this was a Catholic pilgrimage.

The reason for our visit was something special that happened there back in 1879. One August evening, two women were walking home when they saw a light coming from the parish church. On the outside wall behind the sanctuary stood three figures: Saint Joseph with his head bowed, our Lady with her hands lifted in prayer, and Saint John the Evangelist, dressed as a bishop in a miter and preaching.

In the center, directly in front of the tabernacle inside the parish church, stood the Lamb of God from the book of Revelation, on an altar with angels adoring him.

The vision was silent—the only sound was the pouring rain of an Irish evening.

Astonished, the women ran to tell everyone they could find. Over a dozen townspeople came and witnessed the vision. Due to the rapid growth of the apparition's fame, the Church investigated it thoroughly and granted it approval.

The professor leading our group gave us a few reflections on the vision at Knock that have stuck with me.

First, anyone who came to see the apparition saw it—there was no specific visionary chosen. There was no message, just the heavenly figures standing there in adoration of the Lamb.

He told us that our Lady has a message for each of us in her silence.

Mary is pointing, as she always does, to her Son, the Sacrificial Lamb. She is there to bring us to Him.

Tempted to Doubt

Before Mass, we had silent prayer in the apparition chapel, looking at the statues—Saint Joseph, Mary, and Saint John standing to the side and the Lamb of God directly behind the altar.

After praying a Rosary, I asked the Lord to pour out any graces that I needed. The thought crossed my mind that I could ask for clarity on my vocation, and perhaps a lifting of that burden.

But then I told myself: That’s not how it works. You don’t get a black-and-white answer. God’s not going to give you a grace that you can perceive here and now.

I was not doubting God’s power, but He had never worked that directly in my life before.

How wrong I was to doubt the goodness of the Lord.

As Mass continued, the priest gave a wonderful homily, drawing from the Gospel of Luke: “A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap” (Luke 6:38).

He urged us to ask for all the graces that we can—for so many, that our measure will be full and overflowing.

He then moved into the petitions and explained each one to us. For the very last one, he prayed “for all our personal worries, anxieties, fears, and intentions.”

An Answer in the Silence

At that moment, our Lady smiled at me.

I didn’t see it, but I felt our heavenly Mother smiling down at me from Heaven.

“You will have the desires of your heart” was the message.

In that moment of silent prayer, remembering our own intentions and anxieties, the unsettling voice in my head stopped. The burden that had been weighing on me for years was lifted.

There was immense relief.

Tears of gratitude slid down my cheeks. I couldn’t believe how good the Lord had been to me.

In the silence of my heart, and in the silence of Knock, He had indeed showered graces down upon me through His mother. The answer and peace I had doubted He would give me had come.

When the priest elevated the Host and Precious Blood, praying, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world,” I was once more overcome. I was in the place where the Lamb of God had appeared, and yet the same Lamb of God was on the altar before me.

More tears flowed from my overwhelming thanksgiving and joy.

The Peace That Remains

Coming back home to the States after such a mountaintop experience in Ireland, I have remembered and sought to retain that peace that I was given.

I’m in the middle of college life and a summer job, balancing my life at home with my life at school, and I don’t know what path the Lord has for me.

But I do know that He will fulfill the desires of my heart.

Sometimes, you just have to wait in silence.

Felicity Ullmer is a college student in the Sunshine State. She can be found in the Adoration chapel, doing readings for class, or having silly and profound conversations with her friends under Florida’s blue skies. Felicity spends her summers back home in Wisconsin working in the dairy industry while dreaming of future adventures.