In 2016, life felt as if it were collapsing around Liz Fairchild. She had recently lost her job, her apartment had been broken into, and the sense of violation that follows such an intrusion left her shaken to the core. Each day seemed to bring a new reminder that circumstances were spiraling out of her control. Hope was difficult to grasp when so much felt broken.

Liz had grown up Catholic, though her faith life had waned in adulthood. She no longer attended Mass regularly, and any spiritual routines that once grounded her had faded into the background. Still, during her daily walk to work, she passed a Catholic church that seemed to be calling to her. A thought emerged one morning: If there was anyone who might listen to all the pain piling up inside me, maybe it would be a priest.

She hesitated—years had passed since she last stepped into a confessional—but she pushed herself through the church doors. She found no priest that day and no confessions taking place. Instead, she found a bustling youth event staffed by missionaries. One young woman approached her with a warm smile and a question: “Would you like a brownie, or do you want to talk about life?”

Of course, Liz accepted the brownie, and then the invitation to talk. Sharing her struggles aloud offered a surprising relief. The missionary listened with compassion, then suggested something Liz had not considered: giving of herself. Service, she explained, could shift her gaze away from the chaos weighing her down and toward something healing.

The idea of giving of herself stirred within Liz. Missionary work had always interested her as a child, though she had never explored it further. The young missionary sensed this spark in Liz and told her she had a “missionary heart.” Those words intrigued Liz. A story followed about her own mission experience, complete with a website link for Liz to explore.

That evening, Liz walked home wondering if this unexpected encounter was pointing toward a new beginning. “I’ve tried everything else,” she thought. “Maybe it’s time to try something different.” A late‑night scroll through the Holy Family Service Corps website only deepened her curiosity. Opportunities to help children, families, and communities unfolded before her eyes. She felt a pull toward something greater than her own circumstances, something outward.

Liz soon contacted the organization and learned that if she joined the next mission, she would be the only volunteer at that time. The thought might have intimidated her under different circumstances, yet she felt ready for anything that resembled forward movement. The specifics no longer mattered. She sensed that God was nudging her somewhere new.

A short time later, her hopes took another unexpected turn. The Holy Family Service Corps called to say the mission was postponed due to low participation. Liz felt a moment of disappointment, still, she knew she needed a change. She decided to move to Iowa to live near her godfather and other family members and to work at a daycare while she waited for life to open a door.

Six months later, the opportunity finally came: the service corps was assembling a new team. Liz accepted without hesitation and announced to her family that she was moving to Pittsburgh to serve. Those close to her were surprised—this was not the cautious, predictable Liz they knew. This was someone pushing beyond comfort, embracing uncertainty, and daring to hope for renewal.

From August of 2017 until July of 2018, she served alongside a fellow missionary, Matthew. Their small team lived in an old convent, working with the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth. Liz taught preschoolers while Matthew taught high school students. The unfamiliar routines and fresh environment felt invigorating.

Liz had always admired her grandmother’s strong Catholic example, though her own religious education had been patchy. Matthew, on the other hand, possessed a deep knowledge of Catholic teaching. During many evenings, she peppered him with questions, joking that he was the “Yoda” of the Catholic Church. Conversations with him became a personalized crash course in the faith.

The year brimmed with growth. She and Matthew explored different parishes, attended Latin Mass for the first time, and traveled with the sisters for different events—including the beatification of Solanus Casey. Weekly mentorship sessions with one of the sisters opened her eyes to the beauty of religious life behind the scenes. These women became lifelong companions in faith.

By the time Liz’s mission year ended, she felt transformed. Her faith was no longer distant; it was alive and foundational. She returned to Minnesota with renewed confidence, attending Mass regularly and taking an active role in parish life. Family conversations about Catholicism often resulted in Liz explaining theological points she had once struggled to grasp. With a laugh, she described herself as the new household Catholic “know‑it‑all.”

Today, Liz lives in Duluth and worships at the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Rosary. Her spiritual growth continues through Fr. Mike Schmitz’s video series and the talks of Sr. Josephine Garrett—whom she met during her mission year. She remains in close contact with the sisters and with Matthew, and she still treasures the memory of her mentor calling each evening to give her a blessing in Polish.

Her life did not change because circumstances magically improved. It changed because she stepped outward instead of inward, choosing service over self‑protection, courage over fear. The act of giving herself away opened the door to healing, direction, and joy.

Her advice for anyone feeling stuck or searching for something deeper is simple: “Just do it. Move forward. Don’t be afraid. It can change your life.”