And this is exactly what happened. The scooter was not going quickly enough for my daughter, and she got very frustrated. I felt it coming before it even happened.

“I find God to be so much softer, so much more loving than ever before. It occurred to me that God also accepts me in my fullness. God rubs my cheek too despite my tantrums, my mistakes, my whining, or anything that I do. I am holy because I am loved and because I am God’s child.”

“Two years prior to giving birth, the Spirit spoke to my soul and told me that I would embark upon a journey of motherhood that would completely change me. My journey would strip me bare. It would be the greatest experience of the cross that I would have in my life.”

“Everything has a place.” She smiled a wry smile again. “I see,” she said. “Well, that’s very interesting Lauren.” I thought to myself, really? Is it really that interesting? Then Sister Mary said this to me, “Do you think that the way you feel about coloring books and crayons has anything to do with your relationship with God?”

So, when I got home all I wanted to do in the sacred space of my home was crawl in bed, pull the covers over my head, and stay there for a little while I shut the world out. And while I waited for my sweet husband to get home, I debated whether or not to tell him about the downward spiral of my day.

There was something about the rituals, the prayers, the hymns, and the candles that made that one space in the church the holy space. So from a very young age I knew that there were certain places that were sacred, set apart from the normal routine of everyday life that connected me to something big, something beyond myself.

A part of me died anyway that night. Several months later I resigned my position because I did know now what else to do. My migraines were raging; my digestion was horrible; and I was exhausted.