Today I cried for my childhood and, specifically, for my childhood faith…
I was raised Catholic, and I guess I just accepted that as I grew up and learned what religion (any religion, it seems…) was really about, it was natural to turn my back on the magic and goodness I first learned about in Sunday school. I never felt like I was losing anything; after all, I’m an urbane citizen of the world, cool in my cynicism and secure in my judgement rejecting institutions that didn’t live up to the goodness they promised.
I never thought about what I was losing.
Funny how the Christmas story, when you pare it back, is so relevant to today: a family travelling, unable to find a place to stay, and the kindness of strangers giving a warm bed and gifts. I’d forgotten that in the rush to get the gifts bought, the food planned, and all preparations done on time so I can heave a sigh of relief…
So I want to thank Kaylee Rodgers for reminding me of the purity of childhood holiness, and that there is good at the heart of it that’s worth holding onto. If you haven’t heard it, have a listen to her Christmas version of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah and see if, for just a moment, you don’t believe in wonder.
layers my naivety
blinding me to joy.
While it’s not sent me back to Catholicism (it’s got a bit too far for that…) her gift did give me a much needed reminder of the beauty within people and, maybe, a tiny bit of faith.