I've a professional education, and no longer work due to my impairments.
I'm the widow of a Protestant pastor, a hemophiliac expelled from his pastorate for nondisclosure of his HIV status....He felt called to the ministry, but I never did...and knew I'd be a woefuly inadequate Pastors Wife...sloppy, lousy at cooking and entertaining...
It broke his spirit and he lost his life to HIV disease six months later. (I did not contract HIV from him)
My perception at the time was that both that church and his home church, where he had been raised had specific expectations of how I should grieve and how my widowhood at 31 should proceed.
Some people fall from grace. I parachute jumped. Metaphorically slammed the door on faith, and went on to do my will for myself, which resulted in some serious sinning big and small (I'm beginning to understand Mortal vs Venial sins a bit better now...)
It is now 16 years later. My disabilities have made me less and less mobile as time has gone on.
My first reasons for seeking out a faith community were, I'm not ashamed to admit, completely pragmatic. Persons with disabilities need to discover pragmatism, else their lives are not as full, complex or interesting as they might turn out to be.
I am mostly homebound now, and realized I had to set up a social and support network for myself when it became clear to me that my roomate, my only caregiver at present....will within the next decade be unable to care for me.
One accessible church told me my faith wasn't strong enough, and that was why I remained disabled...didn't stay there long.
Wonderful downtown churches, only partially acessible, were places I spent time in but questioned some or all of their doctrine as suspect. I decry Protestant Fundamentalism, since intellect and learning is discouraged, particularly among women. but also question the "believe what you want to," at the other end of the theological spectrum.
The nearest Roman Catholic Church to my home is a modern, beautiful edifice with the main sanctuary, many of the classrooms and the parish hall completely accessible to someone with a manual wheelchair or electric scooter. That is where I am presently pursuing R.C.I.A...will make my first confession soon (Yikes for anyone that knows me. Just Yikes)...and hopefully be recieved into the church just after this year's Easter Vigil.
The first time I went to a service there, I thought...."How great is it, to give another human being the title of "Father," without having the word twist with ambivalence on my tongue, as it did when I thought of my biological father, flawed, addicted and long gone.
And before I'd even gone there, the witness of Pope John Paul II's papacy, his willingness to meet with youth and leaders of other faiths...and particularly the fortitude he displayed in his last days.... piqued my interest.
I've no 'roots' in the Catholic tradition, just two very good friends who seem to exemplify all that is good about practicing their faith.
So there was my beginning.
