MamaBlogger365 – Epiphany by Loren Christie

This past summer I felt like a rock climber who suddenly lost her footing. Up until that point, I was overwhelmed by what life was throwing at me, feeling more and more hurt by a sense of abandonment from a God I usually had a knack for seeing everywhere. One personal crisis after another piled up until the pressure was unbelievable.

In the wake of it all, I began having trouble getting myself through the door of the church where I had formerly led a ministry for teens. I had difficulty facing the life-size statue of the resurrected Christ above the altar. I don’t want to say that I was angry at Him for the things I was struggling with since I knew He didn’t cause any of it. Maybe I had just grown allergic. The form of Jesus, with his peaceful countenance and outspread arms, was making my eyes tear.

During that summer from hell, I met with the surgeon to discuss my dad’s prognosis, one of several issues that had knocked the wind out of me emotionally. As he spoke I couldn’t help but imagine my spirit hovering over the scene, detached from my body like someone flat-lining on an operating table. I treated the meeting like an interview I might do for work; he could have been a school superintendent or local politician. I wrote down the answers of this man who had conducted brain surgery on my father calmly, pressing my out-of-control shaking leg down with my free hand under the table. I felt snapped in half, but inside there were no tears, just a hollow shell.

My dad quietly told the chaplain that with the Lord’s help he would fight this cancer and he would win. It was a grand, heroic moment not recorded in any textbook, but etched in my heart.

So I’ve been teaching my daughter’s religion classes since that time and all the while feeling a sense of emptiness and hypocrisy. Add to that an increasing disappointment in seemingly inflexible dogma and a repeatedly canned homily. I was “in the corner losing my religion” and so desperately missing it.

And that’s not what I wanted. So last Sunday I drove to my old parish 25 minutes away from my house, where I went during my college years when my faith felt the strongest. As I stood in the parish hall of the church where I was married the priest began his homily. He talked about the meaning of the Feast of the Epiphany.

“Sometimes our journey is long and difficult, but still we are compelled to find the Christ child,” he said.

And I couldn’t help crying from a sense of relief.

Bio: Loren Christie is a mother of three young children and a writer for a group of local weekly newspapers in NY. Visit her blog at

The Museum Of Motherhood is the first and only facility of its kind, celebrating the “her”story of mothers around the world. We need your help — please make your tax-deductible contribution today!Visit the Museum of Motherhood, NOW OPEN in NYC – Tues.-Sun., 10:45-6:30.

Photo credit: Church At Night by Jiri Hodan

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