God Was Always There
I was born into, and grew up in, a traditional Catholic family. I was the fifth of seven children, and baptized as an infant.
Throughout my twelve-year Catholic education, I do not remember being taught to be like Jesus, go and make disciples, serve others, and be the hands and feet of Jesus. (Or truthfully, as a kid, maybe I just wasn’t listening very well!)
But, I did observe my parents helping out in different activities at church. In grade school, my class visited and sang at nursing homes; I played the organ and sang in the choir. We prayed the rosary almost every night. As children, we really learned by example, didn’t we? As a child, I was shown how to be a servant and to show love, so it was inherently learned.
My religious education virtually stopped after 12 years of grade school and high school. Because I became pregnant at the young age of 18, I did not go on to college. My twenties brought divorce, the challenge of being a single mom, remarriage, and then settling into a career. And, all during this time, I was hungry to know more, to learn more. I was a very good student growing up, and the thirst for knowledge had not left me.
I had a big hole that I was trying to fill. Where did God fit into my life, what was my path, and what did He want me to do?
By the mid 90’s, lots of life and its changes – three stepchildren had come with that second marriage, a new career in real estate for both of us, and the marriages of three of those four kids. There were constant moving priorities.
Sadly, God was not a big priority. He was in there “off and on”, when it seemed important for the kids to have some knowledge about Jesus, what Christmas and Easter really meant, things like that …
The fact that “God was there”, however, meant that my heart and soul were always niggling at me … the nudge that there’s more out there than family, work, and friends.
Both my husband and I had prior divorces, which had separated us from the Catholic church. We decided to meet with a priest at a nearby parish, and everything changed. Father Hemmer was so kind, telling us that it was obvious that we loved each other, that we were seeking God and community, and that if we wanted to attend Mass at his church, then please feel welcome and partake in Communion. You cannot imagine what that felt like when my husband had been told years before at another church that he was no longer welcome there, or when I knew what “the rules” were, and had felt put out in the cold. That priest’s “welcome back” made a huge difference in our lives, to the point where we became very involved in the parish community and made many lifelong friends.
But in December 2003, a major life shift happened. When I was walking down the hallway of Baptist East Hospital with my husband, I said to myself, “My life is about to change forever”. Somehow, I just knew it in my gut. You see, my husband was going to get a CT scan after his family doctor saw something on an X-ray that he did not like. My spouse of 26 years was diagnosed with lung cancer, and he went to be with Jesus six months later in June 2004.
Life was no longer the same. My priority then was just to survive and try to make life worth living again. There were many, many people who lifted me up with prayer and supported me both spiritually and relationally.
Just a quick short story here about my late husband, Leon. Leon would tell others about Jesus this way. He would tell people about how he started his mornings. He would get in the car, buckle his seat belt, turn to the passenger seat, and say, “Buckle up, Jesus!” That way, he made sure that Jesus rode with him every day. Leon made others think about how they might also spend their day with Jesus. It was such a simple way to share the importance and priority of living life with Jesus.
The years have passed, and I have survived. My relationship with the Catholic church did not. I am not here to diss this faith tradition, as many of my family and friends remain loyal, but I was led to change my faith tradition after I remarried (again), moved to southern Indiana, and sought a new church home. After trying several, I finally found a home at Wesley Chapel when I heard the pastor say, “We try to be a grace-based church, not a shame-based church.” Well,… Hallelujah!
If, 22 years ago, you were to tell me that I would be marrying someone else, moving to southern Indiana from Louisville, and belonging to and serving in a Methodist community of believers, I would have looked at you as if you had horns on your head!
But, by Jesus’ ministry through his disciples, I have been blessed indeed!
