Growing Up With Divorced Parents

Although we did not regularly attend church, I was introduced to the Christian faith as a child and hold those values. I was raised by my grandparents as my father left my mother before I was born and life’s

Throughout my life growing up, all of my decisions in regards to faith were not necessarily of my own. My religious practices were done not because I wanted to, but because I had to. Having to attend classes on Saturdays and being placed in a private school, I was taught multiple prayers and traditions that I had to follow. I felt as though I were forced to practice these prayers and traditions due to the fact that I was being graded to practice them; I wanted to do them simply to get a good grade. I was also encouraged to become an altar server during my school’s daily mass and in return I would gain extra credit, so I did so. When following traditions that my family practiced, I only committed to them because I would be disciplined

I sat on the stairs with tears streaming down my face. I look up, sobbing as I wipe the snot from my nose. “This is goodbye for now, but I promise I will see you soon”, my dad had said as he held me. I grabbed onto my dad’s shirt as he tried to put me back down on the stairs and I felt as if my whole world came crashing down. Growing up with divorced parents was a challenge, but it has changed me drastically and for the better. I had to take care of my younger brother during the divorce, which made our relationship stronger and would mature me more than I would ever actually realize.

As a child, I grew up going to Catholic School, from Kindergarten, until eighth grade. My mother thought private school was best for my brother and I, as there’s a misconception that since you’re paying a tuition, the education is better. My mother was also Catholic at the time, so she was more comfortable with us growing up being taught religion, which should inevitably cause us to be Christians and believe in God. Years went by of me being educated on religion, and by the age of twelve, I felt guilty that I couldn’t process or accept the idea of there being a God. I came to this reality due to the fact that I didn’t feel the connection to God that our teachers taught us we should have; I didn’t feel loved by an alternate being, I felt alone, and I didn’t grasp how such a thing could be possible.

In recent days I had the opportunity to go back to North Carolina for a few short days. There, with a heavy heart from a loss in the family, I had nothing else to look towards. I’ve always heard of individuals finding peace, faith, blessings, and love of Christ from attending church. I’ve never been a person who put their faith into a higher power. As I was growing up my parents never wanted to force me into any religion without me knowing everything about it and choosing which route to take on my own. As the years treaded on, I never bothered myself to learn about the many different religions and what each stands for. So I used this opportunity as mine to attend church for the very first time. I attended the Roman Catholic services held

Confirmation is a hard, difficult process that comes with many sacrifices. At my school getting confirmed was a huge deal, but I never understood why. I thought it was just a redo of my baptism. As it turned out, it was a lot more important than I thought, and the journey leading to my confirmation was a very critical one.

Born and raised in Marion, Iowa and into an evangelical church, my parents “Baby Dedicated” my life to christ. At age 5 my family moved to New Covenant Bible Church. When I was young I didn't think much of church, it was just something you did and was merely going through the motions. But when I hit middle school my parents made me go to church every Wednesday and Sunday. Key phrase, made me. At this point in my life I didn't like church, at all. As I grew older, I wanted to be at church less and less. And I dreaded going every time Sunday morning rolled around. I had the mindset that the world had more to offer me than Christ did. And so I made excuses and put up fights and soon I rarely went to church. My family went but I stayed

Growing up I was always told religion was false and that I was above my friends who were Christians because I believed in science. My mom was raised by Catholics, but when she graduated High School, she vowed to never be religious again. My father enjoyed feeling more elite over the “religious plebeians” that worked for him. I remember having an argument with Victoria Henderson in 3rd grade because I believed in The Big Bang and she was a creationist. Everyone took Victoria’s side, and I learned it was better to just not talk about religion. In high school, I began reaching out of my comfort zone, and also questioning what my parents had ingrained on me as a person. My first religious experience was dating a boy named Luis who was Catholic, as my mother was raised. He was only allowed to date Catholic girls, so I

I was raised in a very strict (but loving) household that was embedded with faith. My family was first Catholic, but my parents left the Catholic Church and became non-denominational. My childhood revolved around our Christian faith and it was a part of every decision and activity I was involved in. At the time our faith was ‘works based’ rather than ‘grace based’. Though I am so thankful for that Christian foundation, it was a toxic concoction for my OCD/scrupulosity. I began to fear God, my parents and any authority figure in my life.

As a child I was forced into a religion I knew absolutely nothing about. My mother woke me up early every Sunday and got me ready for mass. I hated it. I didn’t comprehend why I was being forced to attend and listen to some stranger talk for hours, about something I did not understand. This continued for a couple years until I was around 8 years old and my family became inactive. Although we became inactive, our faith still lingered and we continued to pray every night, and not leave our homes without a blessing. A couple years later I felt as if something was calling me to attend the church. I started

Growing up with divorced parents is something I would not wish on anyone. Having to live in fear is not something a child should ever have to do. Worrying if you are going to get berated for everything you do does not make for an easy childhood. Counting down the days you have in hell is not something I will ever have to do again.

I used to have a friend lets call her Laura. Laura’s mom was a Jehovah Witness and her dad was non practicing, but her mother was devout to the point that she would let her child die before she would accept a blood transfusion. As you can tell I have biases when it comes to religious beliefs. Well Laura got accepted to a university about 5hour away the same school I was, and she really wanted to go, but her dad being a Mexican a machismo Mexican (there is a difference) threatened to disown her. She was all distraught, and me being me told her to tell them to go to hell and walk out the door and go to college. I spent weeks convincing her or trying to, and for a while I had her set to go she had everything done she even had a dorm room, and then her mother got pregnant and told her she had to raise the child like the oldest daughter should. I again told her to tell her mom to go to hell, but I am sad to say Laura stayed home raised her sister and went to the local community college. Knowing what I know now I should have kept silent about my beliefs and supported her right to choose what she wanted to do maybe she would have chosen school if I had not pushed my values on her so hard. To this day I recognize what I did wrong, but I still feel she wasted her life by rising someone else’s child, and becoming another statistic. I do however, see that maybe she did make the choice that was best for her, and though I do not agree with her the choice was never mine to make, and

During elementary school I decided I wanted to move in with my father who did attend church religiously every Sunday morning. Catholic mass was awful and difficult to understand. My father put my brothers and I through communion and made us participate in church bible study to further understand the religion. As I got older my views on Catholicism had gotten worse, I started hating going to church. When the nuns called my age group to have children’s church my father forced me to go, they took us to a room that had no windows and was always cold. The nuns made us read the old testament in the King James Bible version and I always had a hard time reading and understanding it because of the way it was written. This experience made me hate and

My mom once told me when I was young and ignorant, “Faith is the foundation of a beautiful friendship with the one person who will always remain by your side”. These words were expressed even more profoundly every Sunday in the echoing corridors of a small church by a priest I had yet to know or even care about. Preaching with his perplexing words in which I could only muster barely a fourth of my full attention span listening to. Thus, the term faith did not exactly resonate with me until many years later. My early years were filled with the teachings of the bible in Sunday school and later on as well in middle school during Friday night sessions. Unfortunately, my mom was an extremely strong enforcer of our faith for she was also raised Catholic from birth, but my dad on the other hand has a more scientific approach to how the world came to be. The years I spent in Sunday school blurred into an everlasting line of bleak nothingness just a ticking clock waiting till an end. Even today I do not remember anything that occurred within those taxing sixty minuets of constant bible studies it’s as though I lost the key to the inner workings of my childhood. Nonetheless, there have always been unbelievably great role models in my faith such as my mom, youth ministers, and friends who encourage me to be open to my faith. However, it’s always been my own restrictions that prevent me from furthering my relationship with God. So when my sister suffered her first severe

My relationship with God has been the same all my life. My family and extended family are religious, I went to mass every week, and I went to Sunday school as a child. I've alway been felt pressured to believe in God because I did not want to upset my family. Even though I went to a public school where God was only brought up in history class, I still had a relationship from God. I rarely pray to him for support and help, but I still free a connection to him. I feel like I have an ok relationship with God, but in a lot of points in my life I don't feel close to him. I just don't see how God helps me in life and I truly don't understand the reason behind why I'm going to mass every week. The only thing that comforts me is that he is always there for you when no one else is, and the thought of life after death. I never take anything