She fought to create authentic faith for herself. It bothered her that everyone went to mass and said the words and did the things. But it felt hollow. She wanted to meet Jesus. Know Jesus.
I grew up in a more charismatic household. My mom found faith that was vibrant and she did everything she could to pass it on to us kids. Consequently, I grew up seeing the fireworks of personal faith. The earnest seeking of God and the honest finding of God in songs and scripture and heartfelt prayers.
It wasn't until I was grown that I really understood liturgy. Creeds and recited prayers were, in my mind, just old fashioned things people did when their heart wasn't in it.
I was a little bit right. But just a little bit.
My heart wasn't in it today.
I had my infusion yesterday and I was nauseous and tired today. But there was chapel at church and I had teenage boys to homeschool.
Life has become a form of liturgy. Small moments where I touch God. And I wasn't feeling it today. At all. But the routine touched the places and I lived into a thing I didn't feel.
That's what liturgy is there for and memorized verses and hymns. The things I know so deeply in my soul that when I have nothing to pull up, I can pull them up and they can help me find my way back to faith.
When I was a teenager, I struggled with depression. There were many days I couldn't find the point of anything. It was a place of despair. But in that darkness, I decided to shift my focus from myself to someone else. I would go volunteer or do something for my brothers and the act of moving my body with purpose would pierce the darkness.
That is liturgy of living.
We all have days that we need to mail it in. But if our routines and rhythms can point us to the light, we can find a path back even on days that feel especially dark.
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