Growing up, I spent my life bouncing between Pendleton, Indiana and Elizabethtown, Kentucky – distance between the two is about 3 hours driving. The back and forth, as one could guess, is due to my parents divorcing when I was incredibly young.
In all fairness, now I can reflect that my parents were also incredibly young.
They had a blossoming relationship in college – having met at an esteemed Greek mixer party at Western Kentucky University. One thing led to another, and here I came into existence folks.
My parents did the sensible Kentucky thing by dropping out of college, getting hitched, and embracing family life.
A couple years later I had a sister, and a bit after that I had two homes in two different states, two Christmases, two birthdays, more siblings, along with summers and every other weekend in Kentucky with Dad and all schooling went to Mom in Indiana.
The divorce is when my life became severely complex, and even though only being 3 going on 4, it was clear that if I adapted and rolled with the punches, life would be easier.
After the divorce, both my parents took to God.
In Indiana, my mom was able to put my sister and I into a Catholic private school, St. Ambrose, in Anderson. Religion was a firm part of the curriculum and equated importance to that of Math and Science, we went to mass as a school once a week – or more if there was a holiday. In addition, my mom, sister, and I went to mass together over the weekend.
St. Ambrose is where I did most of my growing and where I found the most foundation for being the caring, compassionate person I am today. St. Ambrose didn’t teach the hate or harshness that Catholics have the rep for. No, St. Ambrose full frontal lectured to show unconditional love and kindness to all those who cross your path, and it was made clear if we retained nothing else, this we must retain.
In Kentucky, my dad and step-mom bounced around church shopping for a hot second until settling on where we still attend to this day, United Memorial Methodist Church, in Elizabethtown.
This was so different to being Catholic.
Often, my siblings and I went to Sunday School instead of being forced to sit through an hour long sermon, but as the years went by we were sitting in the sermon instead. I learned through the Methodist Church that there are many different ways to praise God together. There can be a full band playing Christian songs you’ve never heard before, praising God in a church doesn’t have to be mechanical acts that you need to learn and memorize – there’s no earning any rights of passage or “leveling up” if you will.
Overall, I really learned that there is no wrong way to get with God.
I also learned that I don’t need to choose one way or another either. I have the capacity to embrace both just fine.
In fact, I learned I have the capacity for more than that.
In high school, my friends and I began dabbling in tarot cards – which is a hardcore Catholic no go.
Tarot cards are devil’s work.
But I had a really hard time understanding, I mean, if God is such an awesome God, why will he damn me to hell for channeling the very intuition he gave me?
I decided very early on, that the God I was raised with wouldn’t damn me to hell for dabbling in tarot cards and other New Age practices.
Quite frankly the minute I believed that in my heart of hearts, more doors opened.
I’m still very much on a self-discovery spirituous journey, but what I can confirm is I believe in higher powers and I believe in fate.
I believe the higher powers consist of not only a traditional God that is male, but also a higher Feminine power *think Virgin Mary vibes on steroids*, and I believe in the power of the earth and the spirit.
I believe in complexity, I believe in power, and I believe in coexistence.