I May Be a Lone Catholic, But I'm Not Alone

Many who know me know that I am a Catholic. It’s an identity I’m proud to have and stand by. This wasn’t always the case, however.

Both my parents were raised Catholic. As the oldest of three children, I too was raised Catholic, for a time. I was baptized, I went to Catechism classes, I made my First Holy Communion. By that time my father had stopped going to church with us, and I recall my mother seemed to struggle with continuing to take us. Both my younger brother and sister were baptized in the Catholic Church, though that was about it.

For Easter 2001, when I was ten years old, we attended an inter-denominational church across the street from our house, and we became members almost from the start. For over five years then, I abandoned my Catholic faith. Thinking back on it now, it was almost as if I turned my back on it, as if I renounced it. I was a Christian. I wasn’t a Catholic, not anymore, and I didn’t want to be.

I don’t remember exactly what made me want to return to the Catholic Church, but starting around 2006 or 2007, it hit me hard. I didn’t want to go to church with my family anymore, because I wanted to go to the local Catholic Church where my friends went. I missed the traditional sense, the beauty of Mass. What used to turn me away, was calling me back.

In late 2007, my junior year of high school, my father would go with me every other week, while I went alternate weeks on my own. We were going to the evening youth Mass services. I talked to the music director about signing up, and to commemorate Advent 2007, I arrived early for Mass for a party and reflection with others in my age group.

Not only was I going to Mass every week with my friends as an integral part of the Mass, but I showed up hours early and stayed late as part of the youth ensemble.

I knew that I had found my home and a sense of belonging in the Catholic Church. For Pentecost 2009, I was finally confirmed.

I attended Fordham University in the Bronx, New York, where I graduated a year early in 2012. I also tried my hand for graduate school at Regent University in Virginia Beach, where, although not a Catholic university, I was blessed with becoming close to a Catholic family.

I spend my time now between St. James in East Setauket and St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. When in DC I attend Mass at the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle.

My grandparents are still Catholic, though I only remain close with my maternal grandmother. I also have an aunt who also returned to her Catholic faith. Other than that then, it’s just me. My brother and sister never had the exposure I had to the Catholic faith, and my parents have not gone back.

I’m also in a relationship with someone who is not a Christian, though we still enjoy going to Mass together. We’ve been together for over a year now, and while the difference of faith has been a challenge, it hasn’t torn us apart. I look forward to the day when he may join me in my faith; his initiation into the Church would be one of the proudest moments of my life. I’m letting it happen on God’s time though.

In many ways then, I feel lonely. I’ve felt alone. Will my children be in the Catholic faith? Can I hope to be a good Catholic mother someday? I hope so. Again, it is something to trust in God, in His ways, and His timing.

I’ve also wondered about a sense of fulfillment. If my family members and possible future husband don’t share my faith, what kind of an existence is that, I have wondered. I used to justify my relationship to myself and others in that I feel fulfillment from within, from my faith, and my relationship with God. It’s no longer just a justification now though, but something I truly believe in.

It was not long ago when I was feeling particularly lonely in my faith; I’ve attended church alone more times than I can count. While praying, I felt a sort of presence, but even more so, a voice, which was not my own. It came from the Lord who told me that I was not alone; I will never be alone. I will always have God. I will always have my faith.