I’ve been to several different types of churches in my life. My mother was raised Catholic but was poorly catechized and left the church before marrying my dad. Although she supposedly became born again after suffering what she believed to be a demonic attack, we never went to church much through my childhood. Sometimes we would go to a non-denominational church but decided we didn’t like the preaching style and never returned. One summer I went to visit my Catholic grandparents in Washington and went to church with them while I was staying there. I never understood what they believed but I remember watching my grandfather genuflecting, the reverence of the congregation, the kneeling in the pews, the wonderful old smell of the hymnals, and the true presence of God. I wanted to be Catholic even though I didn’t understand. I wanted to pray the rosary even though my mother had always told me it was bad. I wanted to wear the scapular and I wanted to receive communion. I never forgot my grandmother telling me that I could be Catholic when I got older if I wanted to.
Of course after returning home, my longing to become Catholic eventually wore off. I was taught that Catholics practiced unbiblical rituals and that going to church was optional, you just had to “be saved and have a relationship with Jesus.”
One Christmas eve, on a whim, my mom and dad decided to take me to midnight mass. I remember hearing the choir sing the Gloria and my eyes started tearing up. I loved being in the Catholic church so much but I knew I couldn’t go regularly because my mom did not agree with her teachings anymore. So again I put the church out of my mind.
Around the time I started middle school, I would go to a Methodist church with my best friend. I thought it was decent because I preferred the reverence and the liturgical style service and I liked the youth group leader. My mom went in the opposite direction of televangelists and prosperity gospel. I was forced on some occasions to go to church with her and endure loud boisterous preaching, strangers forcing hugs on me, crushed up crackers and grape juice during communion, and contemporary music that I had no taste for. My mother became obsessed with the “end times” and would preach about it constantly (still does).
When I started high school she encouraged me to hang out with the Christian kids and go to their bible study. I tried to be friends with them but I just didn’t fit in with them. They were friendly but I just wasn’t part of the clique. I didn’t understand their relationship with Jesus because I didn’t have one. I prayed every night but I still didn’t understand how these other kids were so “on fire for Jesus”. As much as I tried, I just couldn’t get to that point. I had prayed so many times to be saved but I still felt I was doing something wrong. By that time my mom had toned it down a bit and we were going to non-denominational churches. I still never loved the music. It wasn’t beautiful like the music in the Catholic church.
Over the years I stopped going to church. My mom and stepdad have been going to the same church now for years. I liked the pastor a lot but there was just so much they taught that I didn’t agree with (predestination, once saved always saved, getting really bad advice from church counselors, etc), the continuous rants from my mom about the rapture, seven years tribulation, being left behind, not going to heaven unless you spread a prepackaged gospel message to strangers on the street had left me really turned off to Christianity. I always believed in God and I never once entertained the idea of becoming atheist or agnostic but I just didn’t believe what my mom believed was true Christianity. I began searching for answers and my search has continued for the last couple years.
The thing that really saved me was my sweet, loving boyfriend. When I found out he was Catholic I thought, there’s no way I can date him. I had already been so brainwashed into believing Catholics were really pagan. I was fortunate enough to meet a strong devout Catholic man who knows all about his faith and through his patience and perseverance he was able to explain to me everything the church teaches, all of the traditions, the history, the sacraments, the saints, all of the misconceptions, the teachings on Mary, the Eucharist, the Apostles, the Pope and I got to know more about Jesus then I had ever learned before. I thank God everyday for this man and I know he has been put in my life for a reason and I know that I am finally ready to come home to the Catholic church. My relationship with my mother has become somewhat strained because of it but I’m just praying that one day she will understand and accept the truth.
That was something I heard Fr. Larry Richards say in one of his talks and it stuck with me. His suggestion …write J-O-Y on your bathroom mirror so that when you get ready in the morning you will see it and it will remind you of how to go thru your day.
My old church was against women teaching men about the faith, which even applied to high school students sometimes. 
