For Everything There is a Season

"In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

Category: God (Page 1 of 4)

Walking away from God

April 9, 2026 / / 5 Comments

When I was a little girl, all of eight years old, I remember the excitement of wearing my perfect white dress and veil. The year was 1979 and I was about to make my First Communion at St. Ann’s Church in West Springfield, Massachusetts. First Communions were a big thing back then: a longer than usual Catholic Mass where everyone showed up to see their daughter, son, godchild, niece, nephew, grandchild present themselves at the front of the altar to take the body and blood of Christ for the first time. Then everyone gathered at my home where my mom put on a big spread of food and of course, there was also cake and presents. First Communion was right up there with my birthday and Christmas that year.

As that innocent eight year old child, I believed in God because I was supposed to. It’s what my mom believed. It was what my Memere and Grammie believed. It was what my whole family believed. I believed, more like I knew, that God made all of us, He was in charge, and I better not fight with my brother because that was a sin and then I would have to tell Father Bevilaqua all about it in confession. My little eight year old brain had God simplified to those three things.

I stayed in the Catholic Church until I was eighteen and that included being confirmed at Sacred Heart Church. My understanding of God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit matured but that connection fell away once I went to college. Or maybe a better way to say it is that I still believed in God, but I didn’t have the time or interest for church or prayer.

I’m sitting here trying to remember the next time, as an adult, I was regularly attending church or consciously having a relationship with God. The easiest way for me to do that is by going through a timeline of places I lived after college and as I go through that in my brain, the next time I come up with is when I got engaged to my ex-husband. We wanted to get married in the church so we had to do premarital counseling and the priest was very firm about his expectation that we would be at Mass every week and, we did.

After we were married, we stopped going to church. A few years later, I read a book by Joel Osteen (I have different opinions about Osteen now but that is a whole other story) that made God so relatable to me. That God was more than ritual and sacraments. He made it seem like I could have a relationship with God. That part blew my mind…you mean a one on one relationship with Him? That was the part that was missing for me. I eagerly started visiting different churches because I felt that church, for me, was a part of that relationship with God.

I started branching out to different denominations and found a home at a Congregational church in town. I had no other experience with church outside of the Catholic faith but church, and more importantly, God, finally made sense in a relatable way. A lot of this had to do with the pastor that was there for most of the time I attended this church. It also had to do with the community that existed and the work that we did for others. It was God in action.

After being a long time member of this church, I had a yearning to be in an environment that I felt (whether right or wrong) was more Bible oriented. I couldn’t let it go; not for lack of trying though. Then there were several pastoral changes at my church and it all went downhill for me from there. I think the last straw for me was a pastor giving her sermon and claiming that Mother Earth was God. Around that same time, I went through an acute health incident that I saw as a catalyst to find a new church home. My faith felt like it had never been stronger.

I did find a new church home, at what was called a non-denominational church. I had gone to several services there and on the surface, it seemed like a good fit for me. The Bible was the focus of services. I found what the pastor said relatable. I loved the music and while my connection to God was strong before I walked in there, it became even more so during this time. All were welcome, or so I was told. People were friendly and as I got to know many of them, similar to my previous church, they were some of the kindest people I had ever met. Good people doing very good things in the world.

Time revealed things to me that made it impossible for me to stay there. While I was assured that all were welcome, it depended on your definition of welcomed. I was already feeling uncomfortable about certain practices when I discovered that while the LGBTQIA+ community was welcome to attend church, they were not allowed to become members of the church and that therefore prohibited them from service positions.

Around the same time, a sermon was given that made it very clear that as Christians, no matter what else this person says, does, or believes, it is our Christian duty to vote in a Presidential candidate that supports Israel and is pro-life. Obviously…Trump.

I never went back.

I did go back to my previous church a handful of times but it wasn’t the same.  Church in general wasn’t the same for me either, so I stepped away completely.  

I’ve been away from church a few years now. During that time I have found myself giving serious thought to whether God even exists at all. I’ve come up with the usual questions people ask such as “Why would God allow bad things to happen” and “Why doesn’t God hear my prayers?” These are valid questions that I have asked myself time and time again.

It scares me  that most of the time I think I’m an atheist. How did I go from being a card carrying Christian to thinking God may not exist at all? Is it because I have spent so many years battling chronic illnesses and have never gotten a reprieve? Maybe it’s related to seeing how bad things are in the world right now? If God does exist, how much suffering is he going to allow in this world? Sure, we have free will but is “God’s plan”  designed to bring so much suffering, especially to those who claim him as their god?

It’s funny because I sponsor many children through a Christian organization and most of them mention God  and the Bible in their letters. They mention that they pray for me and my family. They ask God to protect and heal me. These little children, and some bigger children,  have their childlike faith, just like little 8 year old me did when she made her First Communion. I can say, with the utmost confidence, that if I find my way back to my faith, it will be because of one, or all, of them.

I don’t know what the future holds in regards to my faith and beliefs about God or any other deities. But I do know that regardless of how that turns out, I will continue to live my life as I’ve always tried to….with love, compassion, and gratitude. No God required.

 

 

From Bed to Couch and Back Again

January 14, 2022 / / 6 Comments

This is me today. I have been awake for two hours and out of bed for about an hour. I’m surprised I’m even awake at all since all I want to do lately is sleep. I have successfully brushed my teeth and made my bed. That’s it.

I am now sitting on the chaise portion of our way-too-big-for-the room couch and despite considering putting up a big fight, I’m surrendering to the fact that this is where I am spending the day. And when it gets to be too much, I’ll walk the ten feet back around the corner to my bed. And, try to be OK with that.

I look at this photo and I see a lot. I see someone who desperately wants to wash her hair and doesn’t have the energy, or balance, to do so safely. I see the sweatshirt that I have now been wearing for several days, but changing it would mean doing laundry. I see the tiredness in my eyes from the inconsistent sleep and medical stress that has come my way lately.

Behind my eyes is my brain trying to convince itself that everything is alright…that all the small things I had planned at home for today aren’t going to happen and it’s not the end of the world. The catch up phone calls won’t happen. They are too daunting because I honestly cannot remember something I heard ten minutes ago today, so I can’t focus, and I just don’t have the energy to spare today. And as anyone with chronic illness can tell you, talking on the phone is the equivalent of going for a fast paced walk for many of us.

I try to be patient with myself and my current restrictions, but it is hard. The past ten days have not only flattened me physically, but mentally and emotionally as well…maybe even more so than physically. I got a diagnosis from one of my doctors that is in no way a big deal, but does require monitoring and possibly some treatment decisions down the road. This, I can handle.

I got a second diagnosis that is major in all the ways that these kinds of things can be: you have to first accept it, digest it, think about the short and long-term implications, start a treatment plan, get frustrated with treatment plan right off the bat because damnit, you just want your body to work right for once in its friggin’ life.

You cry.

You yell at God.

You apologize for yelling at Him. Although you’re pretty sure He understands.

You thank God that it’s not worse.

You beg God to just give you enough energy to make your husband supper tonight because gosh, that man deserves one hot meal waiting for him this week.

I am not handling this diagnosis as gracefully.

But let’s get back to the photo. What if I looked at the photo differently? What if instead of choosing to see all the things I can’t do or can’t take care of, I look at my face, one which smiles with memories of joyful times…my eyes, which are bright with hope for the future…my chest, which holds a heart that has been loved several lifetimes over.

My days on the couch, or in the bed, don’t define me and neither do my illnesses. Maybe the couch days are quiet opportunities to spend time with the One who does define me. Maybe they are a chance to try and be friends with my rebellious body. Maybe they are a chance to be still and grateful. Since I had no intention of blogging this week and I rather spontaneously picked up my laptop to write this morning, maybe the couch days are opportunities to use our gifts.

If you are having a couch, or bed, day today, know that you are not alone. There are a lot of us out here with you slogging through our health issues the best we can.

It’s alright to have couch days.

It’s alright to rest.

You’ve got this.

Adore Him

December 6, 2020 / / 0 Comments

Every week, the leadership in my church take turns writing an essay for the church’s blog, which then gets distributed to us via e-mail. This week’s essay was written by a friend of mine and it struck home for me because it was a topic I had just discussed with a friend and had been thinking a lot about as of late. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

We’ve all been in this place…
…so I won’t spend too much time explaining it, but let me set the scene. You’re running around all day at work. You rush home to whip together the same dinner you make every week. You drop the kids off for youth group, or practice, or lessons or something. You hit every red light on Memorial Drive, and finally make it to a few stores to buy some Christmas gifts. 

This scene repeats itself a handful of times every December. Soon enough, you’re taking the Christmas tree down and you never really had time to enjoy the season. You never paused long enough to truly marvel at the fact that our Savior came to dwell among us. 

Hey, that’s me too, and I don’t even have any children. But together, can you and I commit to making this December different? I understand there’s a lot responsibilities that lie before you, but what if we spent even 15 minutes each day thinking about that baby born in a manger?

How would that impact the way we see the Christmas season? How would it impact our relationship with Jesus, and with others?

I’ve often found that the most influential moments in my spiritual life happen when I just sit in uninterrupted silence, and ponder the cross. The benefits of course then show outwardly in my marriage, my work, and everything in between.

______________________________________________________________________________________

I recently heard a line in a song on the radio that I’ve heard a thousand times, “O come let us adore Him.” It stuck out to me in a way it never has before. I had to ask myself, do I actually do that during the Christmas season?

I’m sure the wise men had a lot of things on their plate when they decided to travel a great distance to adore Him, but they didn’t let that stop them from beholding the King of Kings.

“And going into the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.”

Matthew 2:11

The Bible

We can learn a lot from those men. By adoring Jesus, worshiping Him, and spending time with Him, I believe that this can and will be the most wonderful time of the year. I believe we will experience the peace and joy that all the songs talk about, because we will be looking to and admiring the Author of peace and joy. 

The next time you are like me and tempted to stress and fret about all there is to do before Christmas day, will you take a few moments to adore Jesus? He came, He lived a perfect life, and He died on the cross, so that (among many other things) we could do just that. Adore Him. 

Billy Peterson
Children’s Ministry Director, LifePoint Church, Chicopee, Massachusetts

(Reprinted with permission from The Pulse: The LifePoint Church Blog, December 3, 2020)

Becoming Us

September 2, 2016 / / 2 Comments
Photo Courtesy of Myers Creative Photography

To say I have been going through a dry spell with my writing would be a gross understatement. I just took a peek and saw that my last blog post was over THREE MONTHS ago. I have some suspicions about why that happened but I guess what is most important is that I started writing again while we were away in Ireland on vacation. I actually filled up an entire travel journal about our trip and on the flight home, four of the six hours was spent furiously writing in my journal. The other two hours was dedicated to watching the movie, The Departed. Love that one!

Anyways, I feel like I have my writing mojo back, at least I hope so. The words have been running into my brain faster than I can write or process them and that is always a good thing.

Over the past few days I have been acutely aware that Labor Day Weekend is coming up. Six years ago, Labor Day became my favorite holiday weekend and as the weekend approaches every year, the memories of that weekend always resurface. Many of you will recognize this story, but it’s been a few years since I’ve blogged about it and my perspective on it has shifted some, so bear with me.

In August 2009, I FINALLY moved out of the home I shared with my ex-husband. I moved into an apartment and my only roommate was my pooch, Molly. It was truly one of the best times of my life and over the course of the next year and a half of living there by myself, I personally grew in leaps and bounds. After years and years of living with an emotionally abusive alcoholic, I was on the path of reclaiming myself. I felt so free.

I dated on and off. I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship; I wanted to know what it was like to just date someone…no strings attached. For the most part, that didn’t typically go too well for me. I had also become friends with this man who lived in another state (Ohio) and after almost a year of talking on the phone, we realized we had romantic feelings for each other. We met in person, it went fairly well, but once I returned home, the shit hit the fan. I ended up hospitalized due to my Sjogren’s symptoms, he pretty told me I was too much trouble, and that was the end of that. I wasn’t going down that road again. I knew I deserved better.

That event showed me that I was done with dating. When I was having better days physically, I wanted to use my energy on spending more time with my friends and maybe doing some more volunteer work. I had also come to realize that I really didn’t need to be dating, or have a partner, to feel complete. Once you realize that, the fact that you can be happy all on your own, your life takes on a whole new meaning.

At this time in my life, I was very active in my church. I was there just about every single Sunday and I was active in a lot of volunteer work with the church. I had made a lot of friends there, most of whom also became my friends on Facebook. This is one of the nicer things about Facebook, you get to better know people you already know and see in person every week.

Right after my hospitalization, one of those friends started regularly chatting with me after church. He knew, from Facebook, that I had been in the hospital and wanted to see if I needed anything. He asked me about my writing and even though we didn’t appear, on the surface, to have much in common, we could talk comfortably in a way that made it feel like that fact didn’t matter at all.

As the summer waned on, I began to realize that I REALLY started looking forward to church more than I usually did. It was obvious to me that this man’s presence in my life meant something more to me than my other male friends from church. However, I was determined to stay off the dating scene and be this strong, independent woman who was happy being by herself. Because in all honesty, I WAS happy. And I wasn’t willing to give that up again for someone else. Too much had happened to me. Too much had been lost.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that this man from church was having feelings for me and by the end of the summer, it was obvious that the half hour we spent together talking after church just wasn’t enough. And on the Sunday of Labor Day Weekend 2010, he asked me if I wanted to take Molly and go for a walk with him the next day. I said yes because really, what harm was there in that?

So on Monday, we went for our walk.

And then proceeded to spend the entire day together.

When he dropped me off at home, I knew, with certainty, that my life would never again be the same. I knew that I needed this person in my life every day, without exception.

I make it sound easy, but in many ways, it wasn’t. I was incredibly anxious about the whole situation…about opening up my heart again and about the possibility of losing the independence I had worked so hard to achieve. But I also knew that I could not deny what I felt and while at that point I didn’t know for sure that this man felt the same way, I suspected he might. I decided he was worth the risk.

Our relationship snowballed from there. We went on that walk on Labor Day. On Columbus Day, he told me he loved me. The week later, he asked me to move in with him.

I said no.

Even though I was certain at this point I wanted to be with him forever, I wasn’t ready to leave the safe sanctuary I had built for myself. I needed more time.

I lasted until January.
Hey, what can I say?

As I’m sure you have guessed by now, this gentleman from church is my husband, Chuck.

So why am I telling this story again? Well, it is my favorite story for starters. But, it’s more than that. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much things have changed for me over the past six years; for Chuck as well. I’ve been thinking about a lot of the decisions we both had to make in order to be together and make this work. I’ve been thinking about our differences and about how on the surface, we would seem an unlikely match; you know, the 60’s hippie marrying the 80’s girl thing. And that’s pretty much just the tip of the iceberg.

But over the past six years, it has become obvious that our differences actually make us better partners for each other, mostly because when you get down to what really matters in a relationship, we are more similar than different.

I’ve had many people tell me how lucky I am to have Chuck in my life. Do I know how fortunate I am that a man like my husband exists in this world? Absolutely. But the thing is, luck didn’t have much to do with it at all. I do believe that God certainly did play a part in terms of us both being in the same location at the same time, specifically our church. I also believe God worked through our former pastor as he was the one that brought Chuck back to our church after many years of being away. There is no way to deny that God wanted us together.

But the rest of it? Definitely not luck either. It was a series of very conscious choices that we both made in order to be together. It was a choice on my part, as a child of God, to not settle for any man treating me in a way that was less than what I deserved. I am the one who decided what my worth was and refused to settle for anything less than that. That’s hard stuff.

I see postings on social media all the time about how terribly women are treated by their spouses. Or how terrible children are treated by their parents and vice versa.I read about how people settle for friends who view them as disposable. If you don’t hear anything else I say in this entire blog post, please hear this…

I don’t care who you are.
You are NOT disposable.
You deserve love and respect just as much as nobody and don’t EVER let anyone tell you differently.
I really wish someone had told me that when I was married to my first husband.
So I am telling YOU now.

If you have people treating you less than the precious gift God intended you to be, you need new people. Like now.

There were other conscious choices my husband and I made as well. Some of them minor, some of them much more important.

I found out long after we got together that my husband was interested in me long before I thought he was. I thought his romantic interest in me grew from the time I got out of the hospital until that Labor Day Weekend. What I didn’t realize was that he was interested in me for almost the whole time he was back in church. I’m guessing that was at least six months, if not longer. But he saw, from Facebook, that I had gotten involved with the man from Ohio and he waited.

He waited.

That’s the kind of love we all deserve.
Someone who is in it for the long haul.
Someone who thinks you are worth waiting for.

Luck certainly had nothing to do with us being together one week in 2011 when I realized I needed to make a decision about whether I was going to stay or leave Chuck. There was no fight, no argument. We didn’t even really have a disagreement. No raised voices. What we did have was a discussion that made it glaringly clear that there was an insurmountable obstacle between us, a deal breaker so to speak. Nothing that he did wrong, nothing that I did wrong….just two very different wishes for our future. There were a lot of tears that week and a lot of soul searching. There was a difficult decision to be made.

I obviously stayed.
And I’ve never looked back.

So why do I mention all this? Because I think that people look at us, use the term “lucky” in describing our relationship, and sometimes think that a relationship like ours is unattainable. I’m hear to tell you it is not. But, it is a lot of hard work. You don’t see our hard work. Well, maybe a few of you do. Our hard work is the day to day stuff that makes our marriage stronger each and every day. You won’t see it on Facebook. You will actually NEVER see a negative post, sarcastic comment, or passive-aggressive statement from one of us about the other on Facebook, or any other social media site. That is part of our covenant to each other. That is part of our hard work together.

I think that is part of why I love this time of year and looking back at the story of how our marriage came to be. It reminds me to not take the hard work for granted, It reminds me of our beginning and how special it truly was. It reminds me that your past hurts do not have to define who you are or where you go in life. And finally, it reminds me that in life, sometimes you just have to take a risk and  grab onto your happiness when it is right in front of you.

God, Church, and People

April 14, 2016 / / 1 Comment

As I’ve posted about recently, I’ve been struggling in the God department lately, more specifically, about where God is in all the messes that take place in this world. On a broader scale, I am talking about ISIS, innocent people being blown up, and children going hungry and being abused. On a more personal scale, my thoughts immediately go to good people I care about going through one crisis after another, without getting a break. And of course, my own struggles with constantly having to deal with daily medical issues and never seeming to get a reprieve from all of that.

My spiritual life has been even more challenged lately as I have found myself, along with my husband, in a dilemma about my (our) church life, something that has been an integral part of not only our individual lives, but our marriage as well.

When I first started going to church regularly and consistently as an adult, sometime in 2005, it was church that brought me closer to God. And I became dependent on that. But over time and especially in the last several years, I have come to learn that my relationship with God is not, and should not be, church dependent. Don’t get me wrong, I am a BIG church advocate. I think churches can be a beacon of hope, strength, and love in a community. I could spend the next several hours discussing with you all the reasons why, if you believe in God, it would be helpful for you to be a part of a church community.

But here’s the other side of it. What happens when church is not going right for you? The reasons can be many, or few. What then becomes of your relationship with God?

The past couple of months have left me with more questions than answers about God, church, and people in general, but this week, I hear God speaking to me. Sometimes I just need to shut up long enough to hear him.

I have been hearing God speak to me through the voices of others and it is starting to shift my perspective about where God is in all of the messes in the world. For example, I see God working through a friend of mine as she makes solid preparations for the future of her and her children for after her husband leaves this world. I see her strength and determination in carrying forward, despite this monumental loss that she is facing.

I hear God in her husband’s voice, my friend; a friend who has been with me for almost thirty years. We have have had the best of days together, him and I, and also some tough ones, the toughest ones being most recently. But it was God who created this amazing person in my life; one who has brought me so much laughter and love. I feel God in the authenticity of my conversations with this friend…the conversations which now include how much time he may have left and how him and his wife are handling THAT conversation with their young daughters.

Most recently, I heard God in a different friend’s voice as well. Her perspective on where God is in all the messes in her own life was the opposite of where mine has been up until recently. She saw the sequence of difficult events in her life as God supporting her and preparing her for her challenges. I’m making it sound more simple than she probably meant it, but I think you know what I am trying to say. Her message wasn’t that God was being punishing or didn’t care, but rather he was putting into place what she needed to get through it all and continue forward.

While listening to her speak, I could truly see where she felt God was in all her messes. It lightened me. It also made me wonder why we, as Christians, are not having these conversations more…the conversations about God. Are we too busy? Or are we so busy just trying to survive it all?

And when I say talking about God, I don’t mean regurgitating scripture over and over again, tossing words around in attempts to get others to subscribe to our way of believing. Or using God as a weapon to bash whatever group of people we feel are violating some Biblical law that man has misconstrued for his own use.

No. I am talking about conversations where we share with each other, on an intimate level. Share our struggles and our strengths. Our weaknesses and our victories. How we see God working, or even not working, in our lives. What our challenges are in leading a good and faith-filled life. What roll does church play in our spiritual life? How important is it? What makes us spiritually fulfilled? To me, those are some of the most important questions.

What are the important questions for you?

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