So the visit went really, really well. I prayed a lot, and my family made a big effort, and I made a big effort, and we had the best time together since...well, since before I can remember. My mom cried when I left, (a first) which was terrible, and I told my dad that next time I visit I will pick a fight so that she doesn't. :)
I got a very sensitive, sweet, and appreciating e-mail from her when I got home. Here's an edited version:
"So how does it feel to be back in the hustle and bustle of the big city after the quiet, contemplative life in the country... ;)
The house looks the best it has in ages, and some of that has to do with you! Your energy around the house was very inspiring and being able to rest so much while you were here was awesome! Thank you! Elsa is having trouble settling tonight, and I wonder if she is missing you! The rest of us are - that's for sure! Anna came up to me as I was doing laundry, and asked if I had a sad spot in my tummy like she does.
I hope you had a peaceful visit with us. I know we enjoyed you - and I know I made an effort to not raise any "hot" issues - for instance neither Daddy nor I listened to Rush while you were about - even though we love his satirical outlook on politics. And, as sad as your comment about (sensitive Catholic issue) made me, I did not say anything.
The house seems smaller without you - does that make sense? You made it a little larger with your cheerfulness and esp. the happy play you engaged in with the baby. It made it so much harder to see you leave, knowing she will change so much while you are gone and it is sad to know you will be still further away. Still, we are all very happy for the wonderful blessings God has brought your way."
It was heartwarming and breaking. I wrote her this back:
"Well, I am missing you guys a lot too. I thought this vist went really well, and I wanted to say I really *DO* appreciate and know how sensitive you are being. It's a difficult transition. Sometimes I worry that I seem secretive or awkward. It's just that sometimes I worry that you will take my difference in belief as a judgement. For example I worry that you might hear a conversation between us like this:
Mummy: Do you believe XYZ?
Me: Um, no. ("and therefore I think you are an idiot for believing it, and I don't respect you and I'm way more enlightened")
I know it's not as simplistic as that, but I know how important your faith is to you, and I know it's painful and strange to have your daughter seem to be "outside the camp", seemingly rejecting what is nearest and dearest and integral to your very self. I know how it feels to feel rejected because of difference in belief, and it terrifies me to think I'm causing you pain.
Not in an attempt to justify, argue, convince or otherwise affect you, but just to share some of where I am coming from these days, I thought I'd send you a Quaker article I wrote some months ago. I am also sending you a silly picture of Plain Quakers, (and an unplain Quaker) on playground swings. I am the only one in a dress. :) I also promise to write you an e-mail tomorrow that is full of anecdotes and free of angst.
Love love love
Your Daughter who is missing everyone more than is acceptable and so will now have to come home in September and so is already figuring out how fast she accrues vacation days...."
And I attached a slightly edited copy of my first post on this blog. I hope I did well. I would really love for my family to be at peace with the direction I have been led. I am so happy and so alive in the spirit in a way I never knew before. I'm home, and I've found God, and He is more alive and present to me than ever before. God knows I don't intend to convert them...part of my belief and comfort (call me Universalist if you will) is that God is present in and to all at any time, in any situation or faith, and the the Light pours into our soul from every possible conduit including sacraments of all kinds. I just hope there is a way for them to be at peace with my faith, and not go to bed weeping for my soul (the way I did as a child for my grandparents, since I was told in catechism class that remarrying after divorce was a mortal sin.)
I would love more prayers on this matter, and I'd also like to read more about people who have encountered difficulty with their families over their faith. When I read old books about young people defying their parents to become Quakers, and never hearing from them again, it all sounds very heroic. But when I confront my own parents, both of whom I love very much, and I worry about them being confused and hurt, I feel grateful for their continued love, humble, and sad. It would be much more comfortable if I could have continued to feel self-righteous, but God has softened our hearts...
3 comments:
Amanda, welcome back. It sounds as though you truly Walked in the Light while with your family... It seems as though your mother—and Anna—experienced that Light, to some extent, through you. Love and respect, even while disagreeing about important stuff, is key, inn't it?
Anyway, you ask about difficulties other readers have had with their families about faith: I was raised in a Jewish household, and my mother was raised as an orthodox Jew. My father is from a reformed Jewish family.
At first, my parents seemed happy that I was connected to Friends, becoming part of a caring, peace-oriented spiritual community. They even seemed to accept my pursuit of membership within the Religious Society of Friends.
But when I wedded with my partner, also a Friend and the song "Amazing Grace" was sung out of the silence of that Meeting for Worship, my mother later would say to me:
I think your partner is trying to convert you to Christianity. After all, Quakerism is a Christian religion, isn't it? And 'grace' means only one thing: being saved by Jesus Christ.
I must've been guided by the Spirit just then, because I said to her, "Mom, I know I am born of a Jewish mother, and that makes me Jewish. I also don't believe in Jesus as Savior, though I hear your concern about that. And I also think Judaism has a concept of grace, though it maybe has a different word, a Hebrew word that you and I don't know. Why not ask your rabbi or the teacher of the Judaica studies class you are in?"
A few days later, after her Judaica class, she called to tell me I was right: in Judaism, grace is encompassed by concepts such as mercy and compassion.
Or this is what I recall, anyways.
Blessings,
Liz, The Good Raised Up
It is inspiring to read of such a positive experience! Positive experiences like that after periods of such conflict and pain are often the most incredible things; pain and hurt (especially when they seem never-ending), when finally overcome (for however long), lead to such a rich joy, not found without prior strife. At least, this is the kind of balance I have encountered in my own experiences.
Love and Light,
Claire
My German mother, who claims to come from "officer class" background, has never forgiven me for betraying that background by joining a "cowardly sect."
Both my parents were atheists for all of my childhood, and my mother still is. This did not stop her from identifying with Martin Luther, whom she understands as a national hero.
Both my parents professed not to understand my Christian conversion at all, although my father's reaction was much milder than my mother's. Many years later, as my father was dying of cancer, he told a hospital admission clerk, in response to the standard question about church preference, that he was "Church of Norway." The admission clerk did not see that among the choices, and wasn't apparently aware that he was referring to the Lutheran church. Instead, she checked off the "Eastern Orthodox" box. (Well, Norway is definitely east of Illinois.)
The Greek Orthodox chaplain of the hospital began visiting my father, and a friendship was born. One day when I visited my father, I was pleasantly startled to see an icon over the head of his hospital bed, along with a notice: "I am an Eastern Orthodox Christian. In case of emergency, please call Fr. George."
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