The Hard to Climb Hill
I feel like I’ve been struggling with my religion for a couple years now.
Not my faith.
Not struggling with God.
Not struggling in understanding that Jesus is present in my life.
I’ve been struggling with religion. Because Catholicism is HARD.
And nobody really talks about it.
I’ve scoured the web looking for blogs. I’ve tried to find books that can relate to me and speak not only about Christianity, but really Catholicism (and motherhood too). Something about a journey of how a young mother who has doubts and has concerns about organized religion... about this messed up world we live in... Maybe about a person who does not at all want to leave her faith, but wants more answers than questions. Or someone to gently speak that we cannot have the answers in this life, sweet mama. And that's okay.
I can’t find all that much that speaks to any of this though.
I do find a lot of Catholic moms who very much look like they have everything together and have a loaf of homemade bread and smile as they ring your doorbell when coming over for rosary time.
Don't get me wrong - that is wonderful, and I seriously want to be there and feel that and do that… but it’s not where I am right now and it’s hard for me to understand how I will EVER get there.
Isn’t there a young mother out there who is questioning some hard things? There HAS to be.
I have to admit that my losing of religion (mind you, I wouldn’t say I’ve lost it. Not even close) started in one of the last places you would expect at an age where I absolutely had already made real and heartfelt decisions to receive several sacraments.
Real doubts in my religion began in my late twenties while teaching at a Catholic School.
I was not mistreated by the school or parish. But I was mistreated by parents who proudly and evidently “ruled” the school…. Who dropped 50s in the collection basket and knelt with hands folded and eyes closed and sang hymns as they rocked ever so gently.
The mom who volunteered to make 15 dozen pans of brownies for the picnic.
The dad who paid for one chicken dinner with a hundred dollar bill and said keep the change with a smile. Pats on the back for him all around.
People like this - arguably leaders and good people of our church - were so incredibly hostile to me (and others like me who they deemed “lessor”) behind closed doors.
When their child completely and utterly disobeyed every word I said in class and even said that the elective I taught was so stupid because I was his teacher… I told him to leave; not that instant, but I told him to find another class (there was easily one available).
Yes, I told a student to quit the class; it is an elective after all.
The powerhouse parent went and told other parents that I was teaching children to be quitters. After going to others first and then coming to me, he point blank told me how generous of a man he is when it comes to his Catholic faith - paying for this, funding that, praying for x, y, and z. And then belittled me in a conversation I could retell in full, but won’t. And mainly won't because I fear it could scare fragile Catholics (somewhat like myself).
When I informed parents in my newsletter of my maternity leave dates, a mom called a meeting, came into my classroom, and informed me that my decision to have a child has caused her son “undeserved stress” as he hates subs - clearly indicating TWICE in our conversation that I was a poor planner and her son deserved better. The next Sunday she read the petition to love and support life in the womb and to respect mothers all over the world.
A few more stories could be shared, but aren't so drastic - but all these events happened in a very short period of time.
All of it built in me. The silent, bad kind of building.
And I felt so compelled to pray more and talk to God more, but I also felt a strong strong uncontrollable need to go to mass more. (I was SO grateful for this very real feeling in my soul.)
I knew I would find my answers at mass. I was grateful these awful experiences made me closer to God, but found myself frustrated beyond words that my religion was failing- failing because of my daily environment- a Catholic School.
But mass would help. And just about as soon as I worked through logistics and ideas to have childcare covered so I could go more often, COVID hit. And I, like everyone else, couldn’t get to mass. Sure, TV mass was okay, but that didn't help me. Not really even a little if I'm being totally honest.
Being a Catholic was just way way WAY too hard.
I tried to read the Bible. When I was a teenager, I loved to ask Jesus to guide my fingers as I flipped through the Bible and stop me at what he wanted me to know. I did that and sometimes found comfort. But not always.
I always found comfort in knowing God was with me. But it didn’t help me better understand my religion, and I didn’t feel like a good Catholic.
I journaled. I talked to God. I never felt so close to God in all my life. But I couldn’t understand why I was Catholic.
Hypocrites were everywhere. Even in the place I thought they wouldn't really be.
The churches were locked up. Some sacraments on hold or held in virtual ways that made them feel not even real to me.
And I was SO ready to throw in the towel.
When churches did reopen, it was difficult with kids (more so than usual I felt). To restrain them to sit still, face forward, try to follow along, sing… struggle, struggle, struggle.
I took one babe out to kick and scream after our third mass back... the masks and the roped off pews and all. I snuck out the side door where there is a little grotto devoted to Mary. I dropped my mask and still felt like I couldn't breathe.
As my daughter cried and screamed, I did too.
And in that grotto, just me, my tear soaked fussy baby, and the sunlight filtering through the pines, I think I heard Mary.
Not a real voice. But I found answers in crying at her feet.
I asked her if she really thought this was how it was supposed to be? Really!?!
And all I heard/felt was - "I have been right where you are."
Suddenly everything felt warm though it was somewhat chilly and breezy that day.
She was right.
Had she cried at someone's feet asking if it was really supposed to be like this?
Had she felt confused by what was going on in her world and in the world around her?
Had she wondered why God presented her with challenges she couldn't understand?
Was she human? A mom? Couldn't understand some things that were happening to her at a certain time in her life?
Yes. Yes to all of it.
One thing I have grown even more to love about the Catholic faith is our love and reverence towards Mary.
It's SO important to me and I can't begin to describe my love and connection to her.
I believe that Mary will be the one I cling to as I continue to go through this difficult questioning.
I’m not struggling maybe as bad as I was, but I’m still not where I want to be or need to be in terms of my religion. And I get angry with myself about it often... sometimes ashamed honestly. Sometimes writing and finding others who can somewhat relate helps.
The last year has really changed a lot. My kids are more behaved and older now so I can get more out of mass. I spend more time simply listening to Catholics I admire. When I feel brave, I question them with genuine and honest questions- and I very much don’t feel judged by those people I would consider "true" Catholics.
If you are anything like me, I ask you to bravely speak about being Catholic and why you are Catholic. I think that's the only way we can grow as a faith community and support each other maybe a little bit better in a world that is growing more and more against Catholic principles.
And if I am learning anything, it's that life is filled with stumbling blocks. With situations that don't make sense. With suffering. With utter corruption and unbelievable hypocrisy. But He never said it wouldn't be this way. And, that helps me when I'm feeling low.
(You know me and a good country music song...) Randy Travis' song spoke to me this morning on my drive in to work. Maybe you too can find some comfort in it:
Love always,
Samantha
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