Lost

In my last post, I described my faith in God as if God had been in the room, but I didn’t know Him. There were times I’d look over and see him in the room, wave at him, say hi. But that was about it. There was a short period of time where I guess you could say I kicked Him out of the room. That time was short lived.
I was very lucky because my parents provided a very good upbringing for me. They worked hard to build a strong foundation for my future. Of course, as a child, I didn’t see it at the time. Often times I wanted to fight it. Once I had my own family, I wanted my children to grow up with the sense of security I had as a child.
I was raised in a Catholic home. We went to church every Sunday, but I never understood what I was being taught. During my teen years, I started to have questions. I didn’t ask anyone my questions because I didn’t know how to put my questions into the right words. I had friends who told me I was going to go to Hell because I was Catholic. I didn’t believe God would send me to Hell because I was a different religion than they were. God was suppose to be loving. I wanted to tell them the God their church taught them about was not the type of God that they were making Him out to be. I knew I was a good person, from a good family with good values. Why would He hate me because I was Catholic?
Later in my teenage years, I remember sitting in Mass when the priest stated if a couple came to him and one was Catholic and one was Jewish, and they wanted to get married, he would turn them away. He did not agree a Catholic and a Jew should get married and he would not allow it in his church. That made me angry. Again, I had to question if that was Godly behavior.
I noticed other things in the church, not just the Catholic church that made me ask questions. It wasn’t long before I developed a hatred for religion. I wasn’t angry at God. I knew God was not who these people were claiming Him to be. I didn’t go to church for a long time. I avoided anything that had to do anything with religion. I didn’t think about God much during that time either. 
Once I had my daughter, I wanted her to have an upbringing that included God. I bought a children’s Bible and a few other Christian based books, but not many. She was 5 when she came to my husband and me and said, “Mom. Dad. My Aunt goes to church. My grandmother goes to church. The people in my books go to church. My friends go to church. Why don’t we go to church?”
My husband and I decided it was time to go to church. Since we were going for her, I wanted to make sure she had a good experience. I research the churches in the area and found one I thought catered most to children. She loved it and that made me happy. That church did not feel like home to me, but I was more concerned about my daughter’s experience than I was my own. Today my daughter is 14. We have moved several times and attended a couple of different churches along the way. The church we are at now feels most like home to me. I’m very grateful to be where I am.