Journey of Faith

“Oh, Angela, you’ve never had any faith”, my mother would heave one of her world class sighs, usually when I rebelled against reciting the rosary or giving up television during Lent. I think it pained her that I was born without the Catholic gene that ran on both sides of the family. While I usually conformed to an exhausting regimen of prayers, Holy Communion and mass, (like I had a choice) it never resonated with me on a deep level and my mother knew it. But the idea of being incinerated for all eternity terrified me, so I obediently went through the motions of Catholicism until I left home to attend college in the Midwest. Away from my parent’s influence, I quit attending weekly mass in an attempt to distance myself from the disapproving and irascible God whom I could never seem to please. But much as I tried to dismiss the Catholic dogma as propaganda, unconsciously, I still held onto a belief that I was flawed and unworthy. I spent a great deal of my life being pulled simultaneously by the cross currents of my Catholic conditioning and an innate inner wisdom that told me I was lovable and whole. During my twenties and thirties, I fluctuated wildly between trying to still the critical voice of a harsh inner persecutor and listening to the gentle intuition which kept trying to nudge me towards the fullest and most powerful expression of my potential. Unfortunately, the draw towards self destruction was stronger and booze served as the weapon with which I punished myself for my perceived inadequacies. By the age of thirty-eight, I had already been through two failed marriages and a number of destructive relationships all of which offered proof  that there was something wrong with me. I was a train wreck waiting to happen until the day I suddenly found myself in an outpatient alcohol treatment program. But my alcoholism turned out to be a great gift because it was during my recovery that I uncovered the huge spiritual void that I had been trying to fill with relationships, wine, and praise. I began to make my way back to a kinder, more loving higher power that I have gradually learned to trust as my most powerful ally and partner. I don’t believe that faith has anything to do with following an arbitrary set of rules created to assure my entrance into heaven. These days, I attend the Church of the Commonplace where I find a sacred significance to the most ordinary circumstances of my life. Rarely a day goes by where I fail to be inspired with awe and reverence for the higher order of the universe whether it’s manifested in a chickadee at the bird feeder or the splendor of the Rocky Mountains. And while I may be lacking the Catholic gene, I was born equipped with something infinitely better-an infallible inner guidance system which is calibrated to the intelligence which created all of this magnificence. Whether I label this intelligence as God, Spirit, the Universe, or my higher power, I believe that it is always supporting me and seeking to reveal its wisdom in a multitude of ways. In this context, it would appear that all of the mysterious inner nudges, sudden impulses and irrational decisions propelling me through the years have actually been signposts placed in my path to point the way on my journey through life. I’ve explored a lot of back roads and detours, encountering a score of unlikely teachers along the way who have all contributed to the rich inner life that I enjoy today. It’s been quite the adventure and it’s not over yet.