Growing Up Around Faith vs Choosing Faith

Faith, for me, wasn’t a foundation—it was more like something that floated in and out, mostly through my mom.  We went to church. I went to Sunday School. I had a children’s Bible with pretty pictures—Moses being pulled from the Nile, a blond Jesus smiling at children.
I guess you could say I grew up around God.
When I went to Catholic schools, I had the Mass routine down. We even had weekly religion classes, so I had some understanding of Catholicism. Funnily enough, I never went to Confession—something that is now both one of the most anxiety-inducing and spiritually uplifting parts of my faith.
So why did I choose Catholicism?
Twice?
The first time, it was a Eucharistic Congress. (Think: a large Catholic gathering.) At one point, the monstrance was brought out, holding the consecrated Host. The entire auditorium went quiet—quieter than it had been for any speaker, even the archbishop.
It wasn’t an empty silence.
It was full.
Reverent. Fervent.
It felt like peace and love were being poured toward the altar… and I wanted that peace and love to fill me too.
The second time was through The Chosen.
I’ve always believed in a Higher Power. And Mary? She’s always been my girl—whether in Catholicism, Wicca, or anywhere in between.
But Jesus… I didn’t really know what to do with Him.
Until The Chosen.
For the first time, I saw a Jesus I could believe in—humorous, compassionate, deeply human. A man who respected people, including women. A man who felt real.
And that changed something in me.
So here I am, choosing Catholicism again.
Choosing it with open eyes this time.
Choosing it not because I grew up around it—
but because I believe in it.
Oh God of second (and third, and fourth…) chances,
I’m back again.