So I don't want to exactly say that I'm in the throws of an ecclesiastical crisis. But the whole religion thing has been bugging me lately, at least in terms of where I stand and how that stance effects my children.
I was raised Catholic, through and through. My parents took us to church every Sunday. We were thoroughly surrounded by the holiness of it all. And then my parents got divorced and life became pretty unravelled at times. I honestly lost my faith. I began to question pretty much everything, partially because of my home life, and also because I was entering that "I'm going to be a free-thinker and not conform to the ideas of anyone else" mode. So I lost touch with the Catholic church, and with my spirituality in general.
Lots of things happened over the years. And again and again, I have longed to figure out where spirituality fits into my life, and wondered whether or not it involves Catholicism.
Where do I fit in and where do I go?
I guess when Elizabeth was born, I started to get some answers. Without thinking or premeditation, I prayed. I prayed as a Catholic. And I would randomly stop into Catholic church and pray to God and the saints with whom I was raised, and I prayed to all of the angels I know who are sitting in heaven watching over us. Especially my Aunt Polly. My guardian angel. And it was my faith in my angels and the strength I received from my very Catholic "Our Fathers" and "Hail Marys" that would sustain me while Lizzy was in the operating room, or having her PCVC line put in place, or receiving a blood transfusion. In those moments, my strength came from the peace and quiet I could find in my mind by praying. And I prayed that way when I was with her and away from Erin and Meghan, and I prayed that way when I was back home and she was so far away in the hospital. In the middle of the night, first thing in the morning, driving to the hospital and driving back home. I prayed. And it was prayer that came from my childhood.
I guess it made me realize that the comfort that I feel from turning to the prayer and tradition with which I started my life is greater than the ambivalence I've felt about Catholicism throughout the past few years. And if that is the truth, then is it wrong to just ignore the years that I've not been a part of a religious community and walk through the doors of one, expecting to be accepted with open arms?
Probably not. Because the God I believe in does just that. Accepts you when you are ready to accept Him. I do believe that the notion of God is personal and individual, while the concept of organized religion provides a sense of belonging and community to those who are a part. And it all sounds really good to me right now. Now that I've been through much tougher times than adolescence and rebellious whoo-ha, I think that a belief in God and participation in our church can only be a good thing.
Which brings me to the next piece of the puzzle. Now, with these "epiphanies," (pardon the dramatic pun) I am also thinking that my children deserve the same introduction to a religion, a faith, a set of values that both Pete and I had from our families. Even if they grow up and choose something else, they deserve to have the information in front of them. I know that Pete has no interest in reviving his involvement in the church-going process, which I respect, but it makes it hard to now ask him to join me as I help our kids dive in. But maybe it doesn't. Maybe I just do what I think is best and know that he won't fight me, he just probably won't be there every Sunday. I can probably persuade him to be a Cheaster with me and that would be great. And now Erin is going to be in the children's choir at church, the first rehearsal for which she attended with glee today. So I am sure Pete will come when she sings.
I suppose at the end of it all, I conclude that I am comfortable going back to my roots. And I am comfortable knowing that this will probably not be a family thing. This is okay with me. And I'm fairly certain that God will be psyched to have me and my girls when we can make it...and my husband when he can, too.
I was raised Catholic, through and through. My parents took us to church every Sunday. We were thoroughly surrounded by the holiness of it all. And then my parents got divorced and life became pretty unravelled at times. I honestly lost my faith. I began to question pretty much everything, partially because of my home life, and also because I was entering that "I'm going to be a free-thinker and not conform to the ideas of anyone else" mode. So I lost touch with the Catholic church, and with my spirituality in general.
Lots of things happened over the years. And again and again, I have longed to figure out where spirituality fits into my life, and wondered whether or not it involves Catholicism.
Where do I fit in and where do I go?
I guess when Elizabeth was born, I started to get some answers. Without thinking or premeditation, I prayed. I prayed as a Catholic. And I would randomly stop into Catholic church and pray to God and the saints with whom I was raised, and I prayed to all of the angels I know who are sitting in heaven watching over us. Especially my Aunt Polly. My guardian angel. And it was my faith in my angels and the strength I received from my very Catholic "Our Fathers" and "Hail Marys" that would sustain me while Lizzy was in the operating room, or having her PCVC line put in place, or receiving a blood transfusion. In those moments, my strength came from the peace and quiet I could find in my mind by praying. And I prayed that way when I was with her and away from Erin and Meghan, and I prayed that way when I was back home and she was so far away in the hospital. In the middle of the night, first thing in the morning, driving to the hospital and driving back home. I prayed. And it was prayer that came from my childhood.
I guess it made me realize that the comfort that I feel from turning to the prayer and tradition with which I started my life is greater than the ambivalence I've felt about Catholicism throughout the past few years. And if that is the truth, then is it wrong to just ignore the years that I've not been a part of a religious community and walk through the doors of one, expecting to be accepted with open arms?
Probably not. Because the God I believe in does just that. Accepts you when you are ready to accept Him. I do believe that the notion of God is personal and individual, while the concept of organized religion provides a sense of belonging and community to those who are a part. And it all sounds really good to me right now. Now that I've been through much tougher times than adolescence and rebellious whoo-ha, I think that a belief in God and participation in our church can only be a good thing.
Which brings me to the next piece of the puzzle. Now, with these "epiphanies," (pardon the dramatic pun) I am also thinking that my children deserve the same introduction to a religion, a faith, a set of values that both Pete and I had from our families. Even if they grow up and choose something else, they deserve to have the information in front of them. I know that Pete has no interest in reviving his involvement in the church-going process, which I respect, but it makes it hard to now ask him to join me as I help our kids dive in. But maybe it doesn't. Maybe I just do what I think is best and know that he won't fight me, he just probably won't be there every Sunday. I can probably persuade him to be a Cheaster with me and that would be great. And now Erin is going to be in the children's choir at church, the first rehearsal for which she attended with glee today. So I am sure Pete will come when she sings.
I suppose at the end of it all, I conclude that I am comfortable going back to my roots. And I am comfortable knowing that this will probably not be a family thing. This is okay with me. And I'm fairly certain that God will be psyched to have me and my girls when we can make it...and my husband when he can, too.
Labels: faith, religion, sprituality
posted by Kate @ 10:40 PM
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