The Patron Saint of Anglican Converts?

From the Telegraph:

Cardinal John Henry Newman, the most famous British convert to Catholicism, could be beatified this year, the Vatican has said, setting him on a path to become the first British saint for 40 years.

"Cardinal Newman was a relevant intellectual, an emblematic figure of conversion from Anglicanism to Catholicism and personally I wish his beatification to happen very soon," said Cardinal José Saraiva Martins, the Prefect of the Congregation for the Cause of the Saints.
Asked to clarify, the cardinal told The Daily Telegraph he hoped the beatification would happen this year.

This is wonderful news. My title for this posting is only partly facetious: I doubt there are many Anglican Tiber swimmers extant who did not have a look at the writings of Newman before jumping into the water. He is our inspiration and our comfort as well for I also doubt there are many Anglican converts who, while joyfully embracing the full faith of the Holy Catholic Church, do not also feel great sorrow, as did Newman, when turning their backs on the Anglican Church.

I have only known a few converts to Catholicism who came from protestant backgrounds other than the Episcopal Church but among them, none seem to have experienced much sense of loss upon leaving Presbyterianism, Congregationalism, Methodism, etc., other than that of leaving friends behind (the experience may be different for Lutherans, I just don't know). Not so with former Anglicans. Read here, for example, a loving tribute to the most excellent St. Clement's Church in Philadelphia, the gold standard, along with the Church of the Resurrection in New York, of Anglo-Catholic worship, written by a young former Anglican, Nathaniel Peters, in First Things. An excerpt (but you should read it all):

I worshipped there for three years in college before converting to Catholicism, and the magnificence of their choir kept me from swimming the Tiber for a few months. I will never forget the clouds of incense, the rich brocade of the vestments, the deep reverence of Holy Week services, the slew of processions, and the way that the opening chords of Victoria’s “Asperges” could send the soul to repentant heights at the beginning of the mass. St. Clement’s is not perfect; no church is. But it stands in my mind as a clear proof of the old Christian principle that beauty elevates the soul to the contemplation of God.

Amen, sir, I had a similar experience at the Church of the Resurrection, whose magnificent worship prevented me from swimming for far longer than a few months. I am thrilled come Easter I will be entering the Roman Catholic Church but to the day I die, there will always be a bit of the Anglican in me.