“Before, I had no beliefs about death. Stéphanie, 41, mother of two, is a part-time teacher. She has spent several years impacted by illness and time off work. She was baptized in 2021. She looks back on a journey of faith which took place in an unusual context: the death of a friend from cancer. For a long time, she didn’t believe in life after death. Yet, at the time of her bereavement, something shifted within her. Gradually, the question of the resurrection and the presence of Christ came to the fore. This interview, conducted at Montligeon, shows how a recent faith has taken root through encounters, physical ordeals and a trust that continues to build over time.
I used to think that after death, there was nothing
Stéphanie puts it simply: for years, death represented a definitive end for her. “I didn’t believe at all in an afterlife,” she explains. The prospect even seemed comfortable to her. But the death of a friend from cancer upset this balance. As she lay at her side, Stephanie felt a deep, unexpected peace. She began to talk to her. “I said to myself, ‘If I’m talking to her, I must think there’s something behind it’,” she confides. This inner experience opened a breach. She no longer saw her friend as “just dust”. From then on, she started to research. She went to Mass, observing and listening, with no clear purpose. Little by little, she began to get a glimpse of what believing in the Risen Christ meant, including in life after death,. Faith did not take hold of her all at once; it took shape through simple actions and persistent questioning.
The Lord spoke to me, but I wasn’t available
Looking back over her life, Stéphanie admits that faith was not completely alien to her. “The Lord spoke to me several times in my life,” she says. But she was not ready to answer. She would lead her own life, putting off any spiritual questions. After the death of her friend, however, she agreed to take a more practical approach. She took part in an Alpha sessions. There she discovered meeting times, teachings and shared meals. “I let myself get drawn in,” she explains. The encounters meant a lot to her: other participants, priests, and a parish that gradually became familiar. Along the way, one thing became clear. “Maybe I do have faith after all,” she admitted. She then embarked on a catechumenate program. It proved to be a demanding time, but it led to her baptism, which she received in 2021. Today, she says it clearly: becoming a child of God is a decisive gift for her.
I felt an incredible peace when I went to pay my respects to her
“Going through the ordeal with Christ is what’s beautiful”.
Eight months after her baptism, Stéphanie suffered a brutal ordeal. She almost lost the use of her legs and part of her motor skills. This was the start of a long period of rehabilitation, which is still ongoing. The illness came at a time when her faith was still new. Yet she never doubted. “The Lord put the right people on my path”, she says, referring to the care and support she received. For the past four years, she has been healing old psychological wounds linked to her personal history. One day, a priest spoke to her and enlightened her: “The beauty of your ordeal is that you are living it with Christ.” This thought changed her outlook. She discovered that Christ did not suppress trials, but went through them with her. “I discovered my faith through my illness,” she explains, speaking of a presence she received over time, with gentleness.
I walk with Christ, at my own pace
Today, Stéphanie evokes a strength she feels but which she cannot always describe. “Christ is with us in our pain,” she says, emphasizing his delicacy. His presence helps her to move forward. She recalls two biblical verses she finds most helpful: “Come to me, all you who labor under a burden” and “When I am weak, then I am strong”. Her weakness is not going away. But she is learning to live with it. “I don’t really know how to walk anymore”, she says, “but I walk with Christ, at my own pace”. Her stay at Montligeon was part of that dynamics. She feels welcomed there, she finds a place of encounters, a much-needed break from her daily life as a mother and teacher. “It’s a space where I can breathe,” she confides, a time to regain momentum and confidence. Her faith continues to grow, step by step, in hope.
