A Way

My dad was born and raised Catholic. My mom converted after they got married. I was baptized in October of 1990 in Walsenburg, CO at St. Mary’s Catholic Church.

I always felt at home in that church. Safe.

I remember how the bells sounded when they rang every hour.

I remember walking to Hardee’s after mass to get biscuits and honey with my mom.

I never questioned God back then. I had all I needed, so there was no reason to.

After my parents moved us to Colorado Springs, it took awhile before we found a regular church to attend. Eventually, we landed at St. Joseph’s. I liked that church a lot, but it wasn’t the same.

Year after year, I went to mass on Sundays with my mom (and dad when he was in town), but I never got it. I didn’t fully feel Jesus’ presence. I got bored easily. Sometimes, I’d even doze off. The only mass that ever really inspired me was midnight mass on Christmas. Those nights were magical, but other than that, it felt like nothing more than a routine.

In high school, I started volunteering every summer with vacation bible school and began taking the faith formation classes to prepare to receive the sacrament of Confirmation. At that point, I had an extensive education in not only the Catholic Church, but other world religions as well. I had gone to Catholic school almost my entire life, save for a few months, so I was way ahead of the other kids in the classes with me. I felt proud of that, but I was having doubts about receiving Confirmation at all. It was an expectation in my house that I would receive it, but I challenged my parents a bit, because it was supposed to be my choice – when I was confident that this is how I wanted to practice my faith the rest of my life. I ended up receiving the sacrament back then, but my actual Confirmation did not occur until much later.

In college, I found a few friends on my dorm floor who were Catholic so we would usually go to mass on Sundays together. The problem was I became increasingly distracted with things that drew my attention away from my faith. Boys. Parties. Work. I would go to mass, but I wouldn’t feel anything. I was going through the motions, but felt no real connection to that church, the people, or God. I had always had my doubts about certain things going on in the church and the frustration with the way I had been treated by many Catholics. It’s why I had never been sure about my Confirmation. I never actually felt like I belonged.

Once I started dating my ex, senior year of college, I began speaking with my priest about our relationship and got very frustrated when he told me the relationship would not work because we were unequally yoked. He was a non-believer and unbaptized. Back then, I had a savior complex and took that as a challenge to save him, rather than acknowledging the simple truth: we were not compatible. Regardless, I didn’t want to hear it, and I continued the relationship.

Then, on Easter Sunday 2012, I finally had enough. I was working at Village Inn at the time, and we were required to work every holiday because they were some of the busiest days of the year. There was only one mass time I could attend and still make it in for the start of my shift. After barely finding a parking spot, I walked up the concrete steps toward the large wooden doors. Since it was Easter, the ushers were on the outside, managing the flow of people coming into the church. I was already embarrassed about the way I looked, having to wear my uniform since I wouldn’t have time to change. My name tag was visible even though I had a pink jacket over my work shirt. I figured the ushers would understand. Instead, as I attempted to walk through the door, the usher stopped me and told me there was no more room. I told him, I understood it would be tight, but I was by myself and I had to go to work. He looked at me and said I would have to attend another mass time. I told him again that I couldn’t, I had to get to work and he said verbatim, “what do you mean you have to work, it’s Easter?”

All the people standing near him were staring at me, as if I was some rare creature they had only heard about on the news, rather than a waitress just trying to attend Easter Sunday mass. Devastated, I just walked away.

It was ten years before I tried to set foot in a Catholic church again.

…

During those ten years away from the church, I continued to pray most days, but I was very disconnected from God. I really didn’t see religion as a huge part of my life anymore. I felt like an outcast; by that usher, by all the kids who bullied me in elementary school, by the priests who told me my relationship was going to fail.

Even when we started planning the wedding, I had no interest in it being a Catholic wedding. I only said I wanted a Christian pastor to perform it. The day of the wedding it didn’t feel real. I had planned it exactly the way I “wanted” it, but it didn’t feel like mine. Something was missing.

It wasn’t until my ex-husband and I separated that I realized what had been missing all those years. I felt the need to find my faith again, so I asked him if he would be willing to start going to church with me, any church, and praying together. It was a hard no. He had no interest in those things. That exact moment was when I let go and was completely at peace in the letting go.

The priests. My mom. Even my own conscience deep down had been right. We didn’t have the same beliefs and this was never going to work.

I needed to find God again.

…

When I moved to Tennessee, I resolved that I would start attending church again, but I still wasn’t sold on the Catholics.

I went to a non-denominational church one of my first Sundays here and was overwhelmingly moved by the first song the choir performed. Reckless Love has come to be one of many Christian worship songs that I turn to when I need a reminder about God’s love for me. I cried as they sang and felt something inside me change. That feeling. That connection, got me through what came next, which was confusion. I did not care for the rest of that service and longed for the tradition and familiarity of mass.

I left knowing I needed to try and go back.

That night, I spent an hour or so watching homilies from the priest at the Catholic church just down the road from my house. I was sold.

I attended mass there the following Sunday and have been going there ever since.

…

Somewhere in the last three years since I have returned to the Catholic church, I received my true Confirmation.

I have reached rock bottom, more than once in my life, but there was always something there that inspired me to not give up. I thought I was alone all that time, but Jesus never left me, even though I abandoned him.

Now, I don’t choose to share my testimony to beat anybody up about their faith, or lack thereof. I had to experience the worst version of my life and myself to find my true purpose and faith. We all go through that I believe. I’m not here to hit you upside the head with a Bible, or convince you to accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior like the door-to-door Mormons.

I simply want to share that there is no good reason I’m still alive, unless there was a divine power that wanted me to be here.

I’ve been reckless, lazy, selfish, belligerent, and scared. I made choices in my past that endangered my life and the lives of others.

I have questioned the fact that I was ever even born.

Despite all of that, I have to figure that someone was praying for me to find a way.

A way to overcome and become.

A way to trust God again, and myself.

A way to be loved and show love, even when it seems futile.

A way to show up and show out, even on the days I would rather hide.

Even in confession today, the priest said to me that “loneliness has been my doorway to acting out.” Every bit of anger, despair, or frustration I’ve had has stemmed from feeling alone.

The point of faith though is that God never leaves us alone. No matter what. Again, I walked away consciously from him and he still stayed by my side.

God shows up too much for me to ever take that for granted again.

I still struggle. I still get scared. But I can tell you the more I rely on him, the more he continues to make a way.

❤