I was born into a believing family. My parents told me that they prayed for me even before I was born; and we always prayed en famille morning and evening, and at meals.

At about the age of 16 or 17 I was seized by a crazy dream. I was going to make lots of money, so that by the age of 40 I would be rich enough to do whatever I liked with my life. My studies at school had been no more than mediocre, but I threw myself into minor business activities which began to reap rewards. A few years later I was offered a job in a wine exporting business with the prospect that if I was successful I might become the boss. And that is what happened.

Thus I began to lead the life of a business man travelling around the world for eight months of the year, and reaping whatever advantage I could. In material terms I had everything I had dreamt of . . . I hunted, piloted aeroplanes, and so on; and mothers of eligible daughters held me in high marital esteem.

But my personal life was becoming seriously downgraded. I was totally indifferent to everything regarding the Faith. I drank more than was good for me. I was smoking at least fifty cigarettes a day. A doctor friend told me one day that if I carried on that way I should risk damaging my brain. This scared me to the extent that I agreed to go away for a complete rest after the end of a planned business trip.

On my return the doctor rang me up. "Yves, you remember your promise? Well, I've found just the place." I waited for a description of some plush four star hotel with swimming-pool, golf course, etc. "It's called Châteauneuf de Galaure, it's a Foyer of Charity, a place where people make retreats.

"But I've no wish to make a retreat!"

"I know; but do go just the same. The whole thing is in silence, and you don't have to attend the talks if you don't want to; the food is good and the place is comfortable. It's really the ideal place for a rest cure!"

So I found myself booked for a retreat! That was In July 1980, I arrived one Monday evening and settled Into my room with the intention of sleeping as much as possible. However, next morning I awoke feeling fresh at seven o'clock, and with no desire to go back to sleep. So I got up and decided to attend the first conference after breakfast.

It was Pere Finet who was giving the talks. I was quickly struck by the fact that It was perfectly clear that he was a priest. What was more he said things with intelligence and humour which rang true.

Lunchtime came. While we were at table another priest took the mike and began to talk about a person called Marthe Robin who was marked with the Stigmata of Our Lord's Passion, and who every week relived this experience. This puzzled me. But I went to the next conference in the course of which Pere Finet warned us against the temptation to pack up and leave. Cut to the quick, I decided I must remain, come what may.

We were told we might put our names down on a list to visit Marthe, with the proviso that, being a large number, we might not all be able to meet her. I put my name down partly out of curiosity, reckoning that since I was never lucky at gambling I would probably not be one to see her.

The retreat went on. On Wednesday I went to confession, a reflex from my school retreats. I found Pere Finet and went to him. I have the impression that this lasted only about three minutes and I have no precise recollection of It. But I do remember seeing Rembrandt's 'The Prodigal Son' some time later, and thinking that this picture of the tenderness of the Father for his child was exactly what I had experienced during this confession.

Thursday came, which was the last possible day to see Marthe; and there was my name on the list.

Rather anxiously I arrived at 'La Plaine', not knowing too well what I was going to say to her. I waited in the kitchen. When my turn came I went into her darkened room and sat on the little chair beside her couch.

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour . . . my name is Yves de Boisredon. I'm 33 and I export wine."

"Ah yes . . . are you enjoying the retreat?"

"Yes. I like Pere Finet a lot."

"Do you know the Foyers of Charity?"

I told her how I had gone one year to the Port-au-Prince Foyer for the Midnight Mass. Then she said:

"You know at your age you should be contemplating marriage or the priesthood or consecrated celibacy.

I can hear myself replying: "Can one be thinking of the priesthood at the age of 33?" Marthe then asked me what studies I had done, and whether I had ever learnt Latin or Greek. Then she said:

"You know, you can't wait ten years or you will be driving alongside your own road. Now would you like to pray with me?"

I knelt beside her bed and heard her begin the Hail Mary in a voice of extraordinary tenderness. At that moment tears came gushing from my eyes. I could not believe one could cry like that, yet at the same time I felt no embarrassment. At the end of the prayer I murmured a goodbye. She answered with "Goodbye and thank you."

I went out into the courtyard and there had an experience which is difficult to describe, extremely sweet and powerful. The best way to speak of It is to evoke the episode of the rich young man in the Gospel: "Jesus looked at him and loved him."

At that precise moment the world changed for me. I put my head in my hands and said to myself: "Yves, you're a priest!" Tears poured forth more abundantly, but I felt an extraordinary peace and joy. This was accompanied by total certainty and security: nothing and no one would be able to remove that peace from me.

Having said this, however, my brain started to react violently. "But you're going crazy . . . a rascal like you has never turned into a priest!"

I decided I must see Pere Finet as soon as possible. There was a queue of thirty people waiting at his door! Next day the same thing. I went on following the retreat; each time I saw a priest or heard the priesthood mentioned tears welled into my eyes. On Friday there was a whole conference on the subject, and I got through most of my Kleenex.

Finally at midday on the Sunday I managed to speak to him. He gave me an appointment for the afternoon. I told him what had happened.

"Well, it is quite simple", he said, "you are going to become a priest. You will do the necessary studies, and all will go well. And now I will give you my blessing."

We fell into each other's arms and I began to cry, and he blessed me.

Fifteen months later I entered the seminary. There I met members of the Emmanuel Community, to which I soon felt called. Community life was a great support in my journey towards ordination. This took place in June 1987 in the diocese of Paris. I was then 40..

YVES DE BOISREDON

(Translated from the magazine 'Ii est Vivant' of January 1991 by Martin Blake)