Jack MARIE Smith | Official Site


I've heard it said in Conyers that a pilgrimage begins the moment that the pilgrim takes to his heart the desire to make the pilgrimage. What calls a man to be a pilgrim? There are many reasons, probably as many as there are pilgrims. As for me, the ingredients were simple. It was a mix of love, fear and hope. The plan was simple also. Having heard of the apparitions in Conyers and believing only Heaven could help us, there was only one sensible alternative. A pilgrimage to Conyers must be the answer. So you can readily understand this was not about taking a vacation, nor was it a curiosity trip. From the very beginning we were pilgrims in search of a place where Heaven and earth meet in a most unique way. I had been prepared to be this pilgrim long, long ago. I am grateful to my dear mother, Veronica Smith. As the oldest of eight children, my earliest memories of her take me back to my bedside as a little boy praying with her. From the very earliest memories of my life, the light of faith was lit. I must confess there were times in my life when it would be hard to see the light, times even when I wanted to hide the light. The battle between light and darkness ebbed from victory to seeming defeat. One of the most profound spiritual experiences of my youth occurred after receiving my first Holy Communion. Having been inspired to please Jesus, I found it offensive whenever I heard profanity, any profanity, but especially offenses against the Holy Name of Jesus. One day while walking down the street I heard some older boys swearing. Troubled by this, I went home to my mother and asked her what I should do. I can still recall her physical presence before me. It was that of a beautiful young mother, as she spoke a short prayer to me and charged me with a wonderful inspiration to say a short prayer of reparation whenever this would happen. So it was that my mother began forming me in the spirit of reparation, preparing me for that great pilgrimage of life. From that moment on, right into my own adulthood, the practice of prayerful reparation became part of my life. When I think of these moments, one in particular returns to me vividly. The moment comes to life and the very scent of that beautiful summer afternoon fills me. The instant that I looked into the sun soaked clouds, the words of the prayer rang in my ear: Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, Amen. Wow! I was overwhelmed with awe. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, Amen. What's this beginning and world without end stuff. The Holy Ghost had struck. The Holy fear of God had entered my life. What a great gift it has been. As a little boy praying for my friends and strangers, I did not dream or think in my wildest imagination that the day would come that I would fall into the darkness of sin. How great was the gift I had received but yet how far from God's ways would I go. That young boy grew to be a large, physically powerful man who would be willing to defend the weak, but would despise weakness in himself, especially fear of any kind. God had a plan. His plan would include fear, fear of God. For me, holy fear of God would be an important part of His plan. True fear of God would become an important part of my life, but not as great as the inspired virtues of love and hope that had been placed in my heart as a young boy. From the moment of our conception, we are called to be nothing less than holy. Some souls are brought into this world, into families that are living vibrant branches of the vine of Christ. Others are not as blessed. America, the home of the brave and the land of the free. America, the land that claims "In God We Trust". America, the land that claims the holy waters of Christian Baptism has turned her face away from her heritage. To those that much is given, much is expected. It seemed as though our personal lives and our family life were mirroring the condition of our country. Everything was out of whack, but we were trying. The Blessed Mother was waiting for us there in Conyers as she is waiting for you too. She is also waiting for America to respond to Her call. God had bestowed upon us, individually and collectively as a family, many graces. For graces to bear fruit we must cooperate with them. The practice of cooperating with these graces brings about our conversion. Conversion is a process that is not finished till our last breath is drawn and the last beat of our heart has ceased. We are all held accountable. Some will say yes, some will say “wait just a minute longer”, and others will give an outright no. I, for one, belong to that group that said, Wait just a minute longer. I planned to someday get my spiritual life in order, but somehow put it off for one more business deal, one more adventure. To be continued...

I've heard it said in Conyers that a pilgrimage begins the moment that the pilgrim takes to his heart the desire to make the pilgrimage. What calls a man to be a pilgrim? There are many reasons, probably as many as there are pilgrims. As for me, the ingredients were simple. It was a mix of love, fear and hope. The plan was simple also. Having heard of the apparitions in Conyers and believing only Heaven could help us, there was only one sensible alternative. A pilgrimage to Conyers must be the answer. So you can readily understand this was not about taking a vacation, nor was it a curiosity trip. From the very beginning we were pilgrims in search of a place where Heaven and earth meet in a most unique way. I had been prepared to be this pilgrim long, long ago.

I am grateful to my dear mother, Veronica Smith. As the oldest of eight children, my earliest memories of her take me back to my bedside as a little boy praying with her. From the very earliest memories of my life, the light of faith was lit. I must confess there were times in my life when it would be hard to see the light, times even when I wanted to hide the light. The battle between light and darkness ebbed from victory to seeming defeat. One of the most profound spiritual experiences of my youth occurred after receiving my first Holy Communion. Having been inspired to please Jesus, I found it offensive whenever I heard profanity, any profanity, but especially offenses against the Holy Name of Jesus. One day while walking down the street I heard some older boys swearing. Troubled by this, I went home to my mother and asked her what I should do. I can still recall her physical presence before me. It was that of a beautiful young mother, as she spoke a short prayer to me and charged me with a wonderful inspiration to say a short prayer of reparation whenever this would happen. So it was that my mother began forming me in the spirit of reparation, preparing me for that great pilgrimage of life. From that moment on, right into my own adulthood, the practice of prayerful reparation became part of my life.

When I think of these moments, one in particular returns to me vividly. The moment comes to life and the very scent of that beautiful summer afternoon fills me. The instant that I looked into the sun soaked clouds, the words of the prayer rang in my ear: Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, Amen. Wow! I was overwhelmed with awe. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, Amen. What's this beginning and world without end stuff. The Holy Ghost had struck. The Holy fear of God had entered my life. What a great gift it has been. As a little boy praying for my friends and strangers, I did not dream or think in my wildest imagination that the day would come that I would fall into the darkness of sin. How great was the gift I had received but yet how far from God's ways would I go.

That young boy grew to be a large, physically powerful man who would be willing to defend the weak, but would despise weakness in himself, especially fear of any kind. God had a plan. His plan would include fear, fear of God. For me, holy fear of God would be an important part of His plan. True fear of God would become an important part of my life, but not as great as the inspired virtues of love and hope that had been placed in my heart as a young boy.

From the moment of our conception, we are called to be nothing less than holy. Some souls are brought into this world, into families that are living vibrant branches of the vine of Christ. Others are not as blessed. America, the home of the brave and the land of the free. America, the land that claims "In God We Trust". America, the land that claims the holy waters of Christian Baptism has turned her face away from her heritage. To those that much is given, much is expected. It seemed as though our personal lives and our family life were mirroring the condition of our country. Everything was out of whack, but we were trying.

The Blessed Mother was waiting for us there in Conyers as she is waiting for you too. She is also waiting for America to respond to Her call. God had bestowed upon us, individually and collectively as a family, many graces. For graces to bear fruit we must cooperate with them. The practice of cooperating with these graces brings about our conversion. Conversion is a process that is not finished till our last breath is drawn and the last beat of our heart has ceased. We are all held accountable. Some will say yes, some will say “wait just a minute longer”, and others will give an outright no. I, for one, belong to that group that said, Wait just a minute longer. I planned to someday get my spiritual life in order, but somehow put it off for one more business deal, one more adventure.

To be continued...