The Prodigal Daughter

Two Sundays ago, I loaded my kids in the car, picked up my sister and four-year old niece, and headed to church. Now this scene wouldn't generally seem strange, but I haven't personally been to church for more years than I care to state out loud, except the random wedding and well--TRUE CONFESSION: My children have NEVER been to church. Told you I was raising a bunch of heathens... cringe and judge me if you must... I am sure I deserve that.

Many moons ago, I ended a relationship with someone who was physically, verbally and emotionally abusive and the Catholic church that I was a member of at the time made me feel, in no uncertain terms, that my leaving him was unacceptable... well I SPITEFULLY turned my back on my church, organized religion and God.

I spent years with a spiritual void growing ever greater inside of me. In my heart, even though I publicly denied it, I needed, wanted, craved a spiritual connection. At first my anger caused me to withdraw from what had always been a certainty in my life. Then I became openly reproachful, thinking I was smarter than or somehow above religion.

But I always felt an emptiness. This cavity grew, leaving me feeling hollow and hopeless. But I continued to feel a pull. And slowly but surely I have found my way back, in little bits and pieces. Peace is settling back into my heart, and I feel hope in a way that gives me new purpose.

So what does my 12-year old say when I asked her, “What did you think of the service?”


Mind you, this church is NOTHING like the church of my childhood. Almost everyone attending that morning was wearing jeans, including the pastor. A full rock band performed an array of couldn’t-stop-yourself-from-toe-tapping contemporary upbeat songs to a backdrop of three enormous visually graphic projection screens. And to top it off, the sermon, delivered in an optimistic, humorous, down-to-earth manner, happened to be from Luke 15: 11-32, the return of the prodigal son... weeeeeeeooooooo... really!?!?! Go figure?

My daughter’s nonchalant response was, “I believe in evolution.”

Nothing like having your own words slap you in the face in front of an entire congregation. And boy timing is everything... I really really should have waited to ask that question until we got to the car. I could literally feel the air being sucked out of the universe around me. Hopefully though, my heathens and I will be given a second chance and be allowed to come back.

Later, I tried to explain to my daughter that religion and science; creation and evolution are not exclusive of one another, at least not for me. I could see the doubt in her eyes, but I realized that I saw questions too. I admitted to her that I had taught her only one side of the story, but I had failed to show her the other side.

My intent now is to share the complete story and have her witness for herself what spirituality can offer. She can take it or leave it of her own free will. She is cautiously curious about the change in me and that is all I can expect at this point. I am HOPEful that my example, as the prodigal daughter, will speak greater than anything else.