Among them was Rhonda McMillan of Duluth, accompanied by her sponsor — and son — Taylor. Their shared journey into the Catholic faith became a story of rediscovery, healing and grace.

Although Rhonda was baptized Catholic, her upbringing followed her father’s Lutheran faith, a common expectation for families of the 1950s. Her parents were deeply involved in their church community, yet she recalls that they never prayed together as a family. Still, as she began OCIA, memories from her childhood resurfaced with new meaning: the picture of Jesus that traveled with them from house to house, the crucifix that held a place of honor, the large white Bible always on display and the guardian angel image in her childhood bedroom. These long-forgotten reminders of faith felt like invitations to reclaim a part of her story. One memory had a powerful impact — her mother, nearing death after a battle with cancer, wanted a Catholic priest at her side. Even after decades away from the Church, she held on to that connection. “That memory still gives me shivers,” Rhonda said.

As an adult, Rhonda’s career became the focus, followed by family. Faith slowly slipped to the background. It wasn’t until she moved to Montana, she says, that she began to take stock of her life. She found tremendous relief from stress and anxiety in the peacefulness of being outdoors. She started hiking and discovered what she describes as her “spiritual place” in the mountains. There, in the serenity and beauty of nature, she found a space to pray and reconnect with God. Yet, even in all that beauty, something still felt missing.

Meanwhile, Taylor — who had entered the Catholic Church through OCIA in Fargo years earlier — often shared conversations about faith with his mother. Over time, he gently suggested OCIA as something she might consider, not out of pressure but because he sensed a longing in her. “It had to be what she wanted,” he said. “It was always between her and God.” He left what he jokingly called “bread crumbs”: the Bible in a Year podcast, a copy of Rome Sweet Home and regular invitations to Mass. When Rhonda had questions — and she had many — Taylor and his wife, Kim, patiently helped guide her.

Eventually, Taylor discovered an upcoming OCIA class at the cathedral. Rhonda met with Deacon Jim and Margo Philbin, who lead the program, and immediately felt at peace. “It just felt right,” she said. From that moment forward, she embraced the process wholeheartedly. She described herself as a sponge — open, curious, eager to learn. The saints she had never known, the meaning behind genuflecting, the reasons for fasting before Mass, the rhythm of Sunday obligation — all of it fascinated her. 

Taylor also found himself navigating a delicate balance as a sponsor. “There’s so much I want to say,” he admitted, “but I try not to overload her.” Rhonda appreciated that deeply. “I couldn’t have asked for a better sponsor,” she said. “I can be transparent with him — even ask the ‘dumb questions.’” Their Wednesday nights together — class sessions followed by rich conversations — became something they both cherished.

For Taylor, journeying with his mother was an unexpected blessing. At the first OCIA class, sponsors were told their role was to act as a “spiritual parent.” He smiled at the irony of guiding the woman who had raised him. “Once you discover the truth and beauty of the faith, you want to share it with everyone,” he said. “And now I get to share it with my mom.”

For Rhonda, OCIA filled a long felt emptiness. “I had a great need,” she said. “Something was missing. OCIA filled in those holes and gaps.” She is quick to emphasize that the journey does not end at Easter and encourages anyone who feels even the slightest pull toward OCIA to simply try it. There is no pressure, she says — just an invitation to learn and discern.

Today, she feels closer to God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit than she ever expected. “You can’t build a house without a foundation,” she said. “OCIA has helped build that foundation for me. It has been a gift.”