Finding My Place

For most of my life I simply accepted what I was told to believe; I rarely questioned because that was frowned upon. I was fine with that for many years .. I did what I was told, I strived to be what those around me expected me to be . After some challenging personal experiences I began to lose faith in God. I felt abandoned, like he had let me down when I needed him the most. Once I was on 'the other side', I learned those who called themselves 'Christians' had very little compassion for those of us who were struggling spiritually. Over a period of time I came to cringe when someone told me they were Christian. I associated that with narrow-minded hatred for anyone different, hypocrisy, and self-righteousness. I distinctly remember commenting at work one day .. 'forget the lions, God save us from the Christians'. I wanted nothing to do with those who proclaimed themselves to be so good, yet treated others with disdain and criticism. What I saw in churches was very little of 'God's love'; more a society proclaiming 'look how good we are & how bad you are'. Those little 'what would Jesus do' bracelets adorned the wrists of those who spread vicious gossip, whose mouths were full of venom. At the same time, I longed for that relationship with God that I had once known. I missed it. I didn't know how to get back. I certainly didn't want to go back to where I had come from.

During my breast surgery and the subsequent chemo, I had an unexplainable peace. I wondered how I could be so calm, but I had no doubt I would be just fine. I had no inclination to ask God for help. He hadn't been there for me before, why would he be now? I didn't ask for prayers. I knew I was on my own. But somewhere during those long days I recognized a distinctly feminine presence. The Goddess? The Virgin Mary? My grandmother's kind, soothing spirit? I may never know the answer to that question, but I have chosen to believe the spirit of the Blessed Virgin Mary enfolded me in her loving arms. Could it be the Goddess who was obliterated was actually incarnate in the Virgin Mary? Perhaps I'll never have an understanding. And that's alright. I no longer feel like a heretic for asking the question.

After chemo treatment, I knew I needed to regain a sense of community, of interacting with others instead of withdrawing from society. I suppose I could have joined a bridge club, but I decided to try to find a church where I felt like I fit in.

This was my criteria:

A church that treated all people with dignity and respect.
A church where I didn't have to check my brain at the door.
A place that encouraged my questions. After all, can truth not withstand questions?
A group of people who didn't think of themselves as 'better', that didn't harshly judge others.
A place that allowed for a degree of individual interpretation rather than a rigid dictate of faith.

I really didn't think that place existed. I prayed that if there was indeed a place for me, that I would be able to find it. I took away denominational parameters and opened my mind to something different. In January I started visiting a different church each Sunday. In years past I had visited the Unitarian .. wonderful people with kind, open hearts, but not quite right for me. I had also attended Christmas Eve Mass at the Catholic Church for many years. I was drawn to the beautiful liturgical worship, but again, not exactly right. I visited a couple of Lutheran churches, a couple of Methodist, a Presbyterian. Two seemed like possibilities. One very openly expressed that same 'we're righteous and everyone else is going to hell' attitude. No thanks.

Then on a cold, snowy morning in February, I walked into an Episcopal Church just minutes from my house. I had only a few fuzzy sprigs of hair on my head and still had much of the ‘chemo look’. I was greeted by a kind lady who welcomed me and inquired if I had ever attended an Episcopal service before. No, never. She introduced me to a charter member who sat with me & guided me through the service. I experienced an overwhelming peaceful, loving atmosphere and a beautiful service that was very different for me. The sermon was extolling the magnificence of God, true worship rather than entertainment or a cheerleading section for the home team. The next Sunday I continued my quest and went to another area church. I remember thinking ‘Oh .. I wish I had gone to St. Timothy’s!’. The next Sunday I did just that. When I walked through the door, I felt my body and my spirit relax .. it felt like ‘coming home’.

St Timothy’s is a small parish, but one of the warmest, most loving congregations I have ever met. Every person attending service that morning greeted me. No one asked, 'who are you? Where do you work? Why are you here?' They simply said, 'we're really glad you're here'. Do you know how unusual that is? I have been embraced by people who truly display the love of Christ. The parish Priest has been very generous with his time for counseling, guiding me in restoring my relationship with God, and setting aside time every week to answer my questions and teach me of the Episcopal faith.

I have felt accepted and loved from the moment I walked through those red doors with my bald head. For the first time in my life I actually feel like I ‘fit in’. For the first time in my life I'm exploring my own faith instead of blindly accepting someone else's. I have found my place. That is an amazing blessing!

Holy Father, thank you for leading me on a different path.
Let me see beyond the façade of those called by your name who
have none of your grace.

Divine Mother, thank you for opening my mind and restoring my faith.
Please help me begin to give back the love and acceptance I have so
generously been given.