Living with Mystery

60: (June 2018)

I grew up in a very Catholic household. Church every single Sunday, no exceptions. Religious education classes every week, confession, Holy Communion, church on Holy Days. Lots of rituals. Religion was a very important part of my formation as a human being. It was an important part of my identity. I went to a Catholic high school and a Catholic university where I went to church every Sunday in my dorm’s chapel. Now I am no longer a practicing Catholic. I wouldn’t have believed that would be possible back then.

Likewise, if you had told my 30-year-old self – half my current age – that I would be divorced someday, I wouldn’t have believed that either. Divorce wasn’t in my vocabulary. It wasn’t done if you were Catholic.

So many things have changed outwardly in my life, but my core has remained the same. I am still guided by the things I hold precious from my Catholic upbringing. Learning what forgiveness really means, cultivating compassion, practicing gratitude, striving to love unconditionally. Tall orders. Catholicism is not for sissies. The constant failures are crushingly humbling.

My two daughters were raised in the Unitarian Universalist church from an early age. That was a huge wind change for me at the time. I am very traditional by nature. Going against the (family) tide and leaving the church of my youth was extremely hard for me. Change is always a challenge for me, and that one was gargantuan.

But something in me had been stirring to explore spirituality beyond the religious boundaries of my upbringing. Some think Unitarian Universalists believe in nothing, but actually all religions are embraced there; each person’s path is accepted and respected. So when my restless feelings became too pressing not to act upon, I gingerly gave it a try and found a new spiritual home.

Even in the Unitarian Universalist church where there are few “rules,” I attended service almost every Sunday for many years. But during the past few years, I have gone to church very sporadically, if at all. Another change. I think I’m going through a “spiritual hermit” stage of life, although I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe I’m weary of all the worldwide fighting over religion and even within religious denominations, and I just need a break.

In the meanwhile, my spiritual life has continued to deepen – a sort of ripening has happened over the course of time. I’ve come to appreciate the brokenness I’ve experienced in my own life as an inevitable part of what it is to be human. Perhaps it is that very brokenness that led me to have blinding moments when I felt drenched in love, followed by a profound sense of gratitude.

Those few moments have given me a sense of connectedness and a taste of something beyond my meager comprehension that have made the years of exploration worthwhile. And the best part is, I look forward to what is yet to come.

40: (June 1998)

We had collected a bag full of seashells on our vacation. My four-year-old, who had been recently grappling with philosophical issues, picked up a clam shell and asked, “Who was the first clam’s mother? Maybe God had the first clam, and that clam had babies, and that is how it happened.” This was a variation on a theme; she had asked who the first person’s mother was the week before.

Later in the day she got a thorn in her toe, wailed, and asked why God let bad things happen. The eternal question. It is an anguished one. I sat there wondering if I should apprise her of the fact that we wrestle with that one all through life. I wondered if I should tell her that I didn’t know the answer.

Vacation ended, but her musings about the universe did not. While buckling her shoes back at home, she looked up quite suddenly and announced, “I know! Maybe God is the world all around us, and we see God all the time, every day!”  Her face showed great relief; she had come to peace.

I mulled over her various musings. If God is the world all around us, would that mean the bad things are part of God, too? And if so, would that mean even bad things are somehow inherently good?

The strange thing is, in all honesty, despite a great deal of soul searching, I do not think I have better answers to the universal questions than my daughter has. I am humbled by her insights. Maybe growing up means letting go of all the “learned” answers we have become secure with along the way and letting the child’s sense of wonder, uncertainty, and intuition reenter our souls. To question is to be forever young.

Who was the first clam’s mother, anyway?

60-40:

That same child, now all grown up, recently thanked me for raising her in the Unitarian Universalist church. She told me it was one of the best things I did for her as her mother. That certainly made my day.

I can never understand why people dig in their heels so much around religion and can feel so assured that they have the right answers and explanations about life. I’ve been accused of being a “doubting Thomas” (for the non-Catholics in the group, that’s a bad thing), but I am not wired to feel like one way of attempting to understand life’s mysteries is the definitive way. Ultimately, how people treat one another is what matters.

So I’ll continue to muddle along on the quest to do a little good in the world. To learn to love and forgive and try to glimpse a bit of the divine in this stew of humanity – and be ever grateful for the opportunity.