Every morning I drive by our local Catholic church on my way to work.  They have a reader board out by the road, whose message changes weekly.  For the last week I have been greeted with “Catholics can come home” each day.  It started me thinking about how we will raise Ava with regard to religion and spirituality.

Neither Darin nor I are what you would call deeply religious people.  We don’t attend church; we don’t read the bible regularly, although we do own one.  But we are both spiritual people, believing in a sense of right and wrong.  We both firmly believe in the Karma bus.  If you treat someone badly, it will back up and run over you.

I was allowed to find my own way with regard to religion.  My mother was born and raised Catholic in her native Germany.  Once she moved to US she wasn’t as active in church.  My dad was raised Baptist.  Not just any Baptist.  Southern Baptist.  But he moved away, joined the Army and was no longer immersed in the culture.  Maybe because of that, that loosening of their own religious affiliations, they were open to me exploring things for myself.   Which I did.  I went to Baptist churches, Methodist churches, Episcopalian, Lutheran.  You name it, I tried it out.  I encountered preachers who shouted, sometimes into microphones.  I encountered gossip.  I encountered people acting as though they were the most pious on earth, even though I knew what kind of person they were the other six days of the week.  In short, what I discovered was that church wasn’t so much about religion as it was about being a social event.  One in which you were dissected, examined, discussed.  What you wore.  Where you sat.  Who you sat with.  Sounds a lot like high school, doesn’t it?  But I digress.  In short, I wasn’t finding a place that felt good to me.  My mother suggested I try the local Catholic church, which was fairly new to our area.  I was hesitant, considering my past experience.  But I figured I would give it one last shot before I gave up just started worshipping money like everyone else.   To my surprise, it was different.  Less….preachy.  More about treating your fellow man with respect.  I immediately felt at home.  So I stayed.  And I kept coming back.  That is the short story of my Catholic background.   It did change over the years.  Slowly the gossip crept in.  The social aspect.

After moving to Oregon, I didn’t continue going to church.  Lots of reasons.  Fear of the unknown.  Knowing the churches here were so much bigger than the one I was used to.   Plus, I was very busy being all giddy and in love.  You know that first year or so of a relationship?  Where you love someone so much you want to Velcro yourselves to them so you can be with them all the time.  Oh.  You never thought of that?  I guess that was just me.  I digress again.

Darin wasn’t a churchgoer either.  From what I gather, it wasn’t a regular part of his life growing up.  He holds strong beliefs on God, and has the same spiritual outlook that I do, for the most part. Neither one of us have set foot in a church, other than for a wedding or a funeral in 10 years.  To be honest, I have no desire to.  I no longer see a need to belong to organized religion.  I no longer see a need to be part of something that long ago became more about money and power than it did about spiritual growth.  I read a great quote many years ago.  I don’t remember who said it, but it always stuck with me.  “Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.”  I cannot agree with that more.

What all this has led up to is this:  I want to let Ava grow up and decide for herself if religion is right for her.  I hope to instill in her the same values that her father and I share.  I hope she believes there is something out there bigger than us.  I hope she treats people with respect, understanding and tolerance.  Not because someone is watching, but because it’s the right thing to do.  I will encourage her to explore and learn, if she chooses.  I will respect her right to not believe in any God, if that is her choice.  I want to give her the same freedoms my parents gave to me, so many years ago.