Take Me To Church :: Seeking Faith, Lying About Unicorns, and Other Things I’m Guilty Of

First of all, I love Jesus. Let’s make that clear. I’ll even say it louder so my mama can hear. 

BIG FAN OF JESUS, MA.

Secondly, I haven’t attended church since my children were born. And that was a WHOLE LOT of Sundays ago. {I did make a couple of rare appearances when both of my children were baptized. Apparently my face in mass was so unexpected, someone even took a pic; extra points for considering my good side, Cheryl.}

Can we also appreciate the golden rays shining down on my mama’s head in church–proof she’s either an angel or radiating magic. I’ve always suspected both. 

And lastly, in writing this post, I am sincerely not trying to offend or upset anyone. I am simply letting you know about my current journey to regain my faith, in hopes that someone out there is going through a similar thing, and might want to hang and exchange battle stories.

At the very least, someone please let me know if leggings are appropriate to wear in mass. 

I grew up with a solid Catholic understanding and appreciation for my faith; we attended mass regularly, sang all the happy songs, and I have received all the appropriate sacraments. My mom always made sure we knew our prayers, went to confession, and were generally, not sucky humans.

We moved fairly often and I don’t recall ever really being a part of a large church community. I know we attended events here and there and paid our dues on Sunday, but my closest friends were just the kids I knew from school or the neighborhood; I had no idea what church, if any, they attended. My only criteria for friendship being how many Barbies they were willing to share. 

When I got to college, after that first “barely awake/just here for the party” semester, I found myself seeking to understand my faith on a different level; one that wasn’t dependent upon anyone but myself. I attended many different churches, all with different denominations, most of which, offered free lunch on Wednesdays if you attended {the poor college student in me reveled in this}. I met so many wonderful people and I was proud every time I made it to mass or bible study without someone having influence over if I attended or not. It was the first time I really felt like an adult.

I didn’t even bring toys, y’all. Sat quietly through the entire hour. Our phones didn’t have Instagram capabilities then. 

But the more involved I got in school and work, the less I prioritized my faith. I still felt like it was strong, but I didn’t make any real efforts towards establishing a routine that included weekly mass or study. It was easy to put off as I devoted more time to picking up shifts, sorority and school events, time with the boyfriend, and late nights with friends. I also really like sleep. 

There was never a moment that I sat down and decided, yeh, totally not going to go to church anymore. No more wafers for me, thanks! It just became my new norm. And as I grew older, I allowed a lot of circumstances and life to distract me and relished in the excuses they provided.

For example ::

1) I use to own a wedding planning business so my weekends were stupid busy and exhausting and I just didn’t have the energy to get up on Sunday morning. Not to mention, I was SUPER pregnant. 

But Brit, they have Sunday evening masses and week day ones…

2) We moved to The Netherlands when my son was 5 months old and I wasn’t sure if they had Catholic, English speaking mass.

But Brit, they do, and you figured that out your second week in…

3) My children will cry throughout the entire mass and I am terrified of handling them in front of God-fearing folks.

But Brit, alllllll children cry during mass, you will be in great company…

4) I. AM. TIRED. And honestly, would rather just sit and watch some HGTV for awhile.

But Brit, you do that every day… 

And now, I am out of any good excuses. 

At some point in my life, I just stopped trying to make the time for such things. I still say my prayers every night, I still attempt to talk about God with my children, and I still have faith in all wondrous things. 

And I am still not a sucky human. 

But as a mother, I crave something more. I need something more. I don’t merely want to start attending church again, which isn’t as easy as it sounds, I want to understand why I am going and share that enlightenment with my children. 

Lately, my son has been asking about God and death and heaven and which stars the angels hang out on the most. 

And I struggle to answer the majority of his questions. I even distract him so I can pull out my phone and google how tall was Jesus and other important facts. 

One night, I caught myself describing heaven in such rich, lively, gorgeous ways that my son made the comment, “Wow! I can’t wait to go to heaven. I want to go now!”—I immediately panicked and realized I had no idea how to redirect this holy place to an area of eventual longing and beauty and to make it very clear that he should not want to get there until the end of a very very very long life.

I should never have told them that everyone in heaven gets to have a unicorn as a pet. Rookie mistake. 

I know attending mass again will not answer all my questions or my childrens’, but I do think it a step towards filling my own life with faith and direction again. 

As I begin this journey, which I can honestly say, I am ready for, I have started with baby steps. Some of these things might sound so easy and obvious to you. But for me, they have been essential in lighting the path. The one I’ve been told is big enough to bring my whole family on. 

I just gotta move my feet.  

Baby Step One :: I bought a Bible. I don’t think I have ever done that. I have just always had one… around. But to actually go out and choose my own was a pretty great experience. Although, I had no clue which version I was supposed to buy. But that’s what Google and your mama are for. 

Baby Step Two :: I went to church by myself. And I kind of just sniffed around; literally, I freaking love the smell of an old church. Before bringing my children with me, I wanted to just see and hear everything for myself, without worrying if my children would shout out during mass, “He doesn’t even look like Jesus, mama!” or “Did you bring my iPad?!”.

Baby Step Three :: I talked to my husband. Asked him about how he felt about going to church and where he was in his faith. I bribed him with beer and it was a pretty wonderful conversation. 

Baby Step Four :: I’ve been reading bible stories to my children. We are a well-read family; it’s definitely our jam. But I seldom touched the Bible’s stories for fear that they would be either too scary or, if I’m honest, a bit boring. They were neither. My children amaze me. 

Baby Step {more like a leap} Five :: I wrote this post.

So send good vibes or happy prayers my way. Here’s hoping my love of the occasional naughty book and tarot reading doesn’t interfere too much with my Bible study.

And that I finally have a good enough answer to if angels are allowed to hang out on their favorite stars.