A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. -Lao Tzu, Chinese philosopher

January 21, 2021

Of all the places I’ve traveled, none has been more incredible than the journey I’m on now…one of self-discovery. Recently—I can hardly believe it myself, and I doubt anyone who knows me would, either—I began exploring the Bible and all the truths it contains. Me, who’d disavowed the Catholic religion a long time ago. This is a major change in direction. Even though I gave up on religion, I never stopped believing in God—albeit my concept of such a Being was skewed, thanks to a combination of Catholicism and more than 13 years of parochial education.

For about 50 years I’ve considered myself a recovering Catholic, trying desperately reconcile the guilt and shame I felt because of rejecting the religion in which I’d been raised, while at the same time clinging to the belief in a Supreme Being who, I hoped, was as loving and forgiving as others professed him to be. It’s been a real struggle. But I couldn’t deny that something had always come through for me every time I’d prayed a foxhole prayer. And I hadn’t yet been struck down by a bolt of lightning for failing to keep the promises I had bargained with.

A mix of genetics and a deep-seated sense of inferiority led me into a dark period of my life early on, resulting in alcohol dependence, teen pregnancy, and tremendous insecurity. Somehow even then I knew my behavior was abnormal and initially sought relief in The Church by going to confession. But instead of receiving what I hoped for—comfort and guidance—I was admonished and berated by the priest in the confessional. I have not been to confession since. At least, not within the confines of a Catholic church.

You would have thought that my parents surely suspected something was wrong with me but—for whatever reason, denial, pride, ignorance, or just plain naïveté—they did nothing. (This was the late 60’s, and mental illness was a taboo subject, and there weren’t many recovery programs for teens.) Oh wait, I forgot…my mother did make me go to Perpetual Help novenas, thinking religion would help. I went. Twice. No miracle happened.

Without help, time passed agonizingly. Still searching, I decided education was the ticket. I knew something was not right with me; I just didn’t know what it was. Let it never be said that an alcoholic isn’t persistent, because I was. Eventually I found the perfect fit: a college in my hometown that offered a Special Ed program with an emphasis in Emotional Disturbance and Behavioral Disorders. It had my name written all over it! The idea of finding out my problem and getting a college degree at the same time was such an incentive; it would be like killing two birds with one stone! I dug in with both feet and completed the program in just three years, instead of four or five. Sadly, what I’d been taught didn’t help at all. My behavior didn’t change for another 30+ years.

Everyone’s path is different, and I guess mine was to keep digging into the abyss until I hit finally bottom—a place that’s beyond human aid, where the only two options are either to accept spiritual help or continue on to the bitter end. I opted for the former, thank God. That was almost ten years ago.

So how does the latching onto the Bible fit into this story? Early in my recovery, a friend whom I was visiting in jail introduced me to the daily devotional, Jesus Calling. She said that each day’s reading felt like Jesus was speaking directly to her—it was as though He knew her circumstances exactly, and that it gave her so much hope. A true Missourian, my reaction was something along the lines of “Show Me.” In other words, prove it.

I bought a copy and lo and behold, what she said was true. It didn’t matter what was going on, either inside of me or in the outside world; each day’s reading was spot on. Each daily reading included Biblical citations pertaining to the reading, and I began to look them up. That’s how I started reading the Bible. And it couldn’t have come at a better time. I needed to fill my head with truth, especially now. Things are just so crazy and uncertain.

This journey, like the ones we take in the RV, is opening my eyes—this time to a character I’d only thought I knew, but never had a relationship with. I’m gaining a different perspective as I examine certain passages, that being that they are as applicable today today as the day they were written. I’m learning that no matter how far I’d fallen off the path, there was hope of salvation and redemption. This journey has the potential to go on indefinitely, and like the ones we take in Felix, I know I will not come back the same as I was when I started. And that’s a very exciting thing to look forward to.