“My grandchildren are being raised Catholic.”
As a Protestant, (and an elder in the Presbyterian Church), that statement is one I never thought I’d have to make. But perhaps my own background has helped me accept the fact more graciously.
I was raised in a small town many years ago. It offered some interesting religious experiences. Without TV or structured sports, the churches became the focus of all the social activities. It wasn’t unusual for children and adults to take part in another church’s bazaars, youth groups and summer vacation Bible schools. The Catholic population was small and consequently sometimes used our soloists to sing at their weddings. There were no Catholic schools so we all attended public schools.
When my daughter announced she was going with a Catholic boy I wasn’t overly concerned. However, as the relationship became more serious I realized I might have to deal with things I’d never considered before.
The engagement was announced and the decision made. It would be a Catholic wedding. I admit I shed a few tears but she was happy and it was her decision. But I did lots of praying. Marriages need all our prayers.
The following year a tiny bundle was laid in my arms. This time my tears were tears of joy. Three years later a new baby arrived and my joy was doubled.
I have sat in their church, surrounded by many things I did not understand, but I knew the sincerity of my daughter’s faith. And knew God was as present there as He is in my own church, where they attend when they visit me.
The grandchildren go to church regularly with their mother and for that I am thankful. They attend Catholic schools (and when they graduated I was much impressed that my grandson was asked to read the scripture lesson at the graduation ceremonies … something that would never have happened at a public school graduation.)
Recently my now grown grandson and I had a great discussion about religion. I’m glad he feels free to talk to me about it … I hope it broadens his understanding … I know it does mine.
