Parenting Like a Convert

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I’m not a convert, but sometimes I wish I were. I come from a long line of cradle Catholics. It has undoubtedly been a grace to grow up simmering in the rich soup of faith seasoned over time with enduring traditions and profound familial witnesses. What a blessing! So why am I so darn jealous of converts? You know that superstar Catholic who dramatically joins the church after a lifetime denouncing the “whore of Babylon”? I can’t get enough! Who doesn’t love a captivating Scott Hahn story with all those twists and turns that ultimately lead to Rome? Or better yet, what about those amazing creatures who have come to faith after years of card-carrying atheism? Their stories are nothing short of remarkable and bear the stamp of God’s own imprint. They come to the Faith with such zeal, humility, compassion, and moral courage. 

And then there’s me.

I don’t mean to downplay my own “reversion” going from a barely checking-the-boxes pew warmer, to one who longs for deeper intimacy with Jesus and His church. But it’s certainly not the thrilling stuff of, say, Saints Paul and Augustine, Blessed Cardinal Newman, or Edith Stein. Or more recently, Jennifer Fulwiler, Tim Staples, and Leah Libresco. Needless to say, I admire their fire, grit, and heroic journeys of faith, risking so much to heed God’s call. I, however, was born into it, with the proverbial silver baptismal spoon gently nestled in my mouth.

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9 Things I Wish I Could Go Back in Time to Tell My Young Self About the Faith

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“Pssst… Hey kid, c’ mere. Wanna hear a secret?”

This greeting should send chills down the spine of any parent, right? Under normal circumstances I’d agree, but what if it involved… say, a little time travel? And instead of a complete stranger, it was middle-aged me approaching a gawky, 12-year-old, pimply-faced version of myself?

You’re thinking I’ve been sampling the legalized weed that is regrettably ubiquitous in my home state of Colorado.

In truth, I occasionally like to reimagine what my life might look like if I could have a heart-to-heart with that 12-year-old kid I used to be. What if I could share with her all that I’ve learned about the beauty and genius of the Catholic Church? What if I could shake her and tell her to take a plunge into the depth of her faith?

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