María José de los Ángeles, Spain: "I've learned to find meaning in every difficult decision, and I'm grateful"

I used to go to an Opus Dei center with a group of friends. I attended an Opus Dei school. My father was a supernumerary. And it’s true that I always thought of Opus Dei as something for other people, but not for me. Then I started to reflect on it, to pray about it, to talk it over with a priest. I couldn’t say exactly what the turning point was when I decided to say yes, but I do remember thinking, “I’m giving God a blank page: my life is Yours.” And: “If You ask me for something, I’ll give You even more.”

I’ve always been a very impulsive woman, and that’s when they told me: slow down. In that sense, I think the Work has always been very motherly when it comes to decision-making. “Don’t rush,” “Let’s wait a week,” “You’re being a bit of a teenager,” things like that… I realized that this decision brought me peace and that it was clearly for something good. But later on — and this is where I am now — I realized it wasn’t what God had in mind for me. I’ve always been super cheerful, full of life, really joyful, and even though I put on a happy face, deep down I was sad. Curiously, I felt especially sad in front of the Tabernacle. I was going through a transition because I was moving back to Valencia for work, and I arrived in Valencia with this unease: “I feel kind of sad, like I’ve lost my spark. I need to figure out what’s going on.” At that moment, I didn’t think of it as a vocational crisis, but I was very unsettled because if you’re happy with your life, you should feel at peace. You’re supposed to enjoy your vocation.

I began to see that maybe this wasn’t for me, or that perhaps it had been a rushed decision, because deep down I needed something else. But the thought of leaving the Work made me really sad, because for me, the Work was like… it was like my home! It’s as if someone told you, “To be at peace with yourself, you need to separate from your family.” And you’d be like, WHAT? Like, no way! I love them so much. I’m in a place where people have been incredibly thoughtful with me. I’ve lived in three different cities, and in all of them, I’ve felt supported. I’ve had an amazing time… really, everything you can imagine. And when I was struggling, they were there for me. I cried with them… It was my home, you know?

The Work has been — and still is — a place for which I’m deeply grateful. It’s where I’ve learned to know myself. It’s where I’ve learned to give myself to others. How could you be sad about that when there’s so much good to take from it?

But then this restlessness started to surface from within. Obviously, working through some things in therapy and with a psychiatrist helped me reconnect with myself because I had been living a bit on the surface, not really going deep, you know? When I started praying to the Lord, I’d say: “Why are You bringing this up now, after I’ve spent 20 years devoted entirely to You, not even thinking about dating anyone?” And you’re like, “Seriously? I’ve been here taking care of You, and now You’re telling me maybe this isn’t it? So… what’s the deal?”

At the same time, it was really beautiful to realize that all of it was part of my offering. I feel fortunate because, in the Work, I’ve met incredible people who helped me and supported me through what felt like a deep grief, because obviously, I joined the Work with the intention of being in the Work for my whole life, you know? Of course, I cried because it hurt to make that separation, and when you’re trying to reset your life, ultimately, they say: “This decision is yours alone. You’re the one who has to decide about your life because it’s your life.” And ultimately, it comes down to just me and God.

The truth is, once I let my guard down… I felt better. And even though it was a very painful decision, it was definitely one where I was supported, and absolutely one where I was free. It’s also beautiful to think that every vocation has a mission that transcends time.

Some people say, “Wow, what a shame! You wasted years of your life.” Or, “You could’ve met someone sooner.” I’m in a relationship now, and we’re getting married. Yes, I could’ve gotten married at 25 if I hadn’t been in the Work. But if you believe in God, you know that His plan is bigger than your own, and that He has something better in mind than what you planned. That gives me peace. It helps me so much and fills me with immense joy to know that my years in the Work were years that served many good purposes. And what I always see is that the Work is still there within me. So, I stopped being an associate, and a week later, I became a cooperator.

I think looking back with regret is a shame because the Work has been — and still is — a place for which I’m deeply grateful. It’s where I’ve learned to know myself. It’s where I’ve learned to give myself to others. How could you be sad about that when there’s so much good to take from it?