I didn’t expect leaving the Church to bring me back to it.
Part of what pushed me away in the first place was seeing too much of the mess made by people who were supposed to be… better. And if I’m honest, there was resentment too—my husband was so tied up in the church that it felt like there wasn’t much left for us.
I didn’t leave in one dramatic moment. It was quieter than that. A slow buildup of frustration, disappointment, and the sense that something just wasn’t sitting right anymore.
And yet, somewhere along the way, something shifted.
I stopped resenting the Church for something that really belonged to two imperfect people trying to figure things out.
And in the space that created, I found myself drawn back—not necessarily to the people, but to the Church itself. The rhythm of it. The structure. The way the year unfolds in something steady and familiar, no matter where you are or what language you’re hearing it in.
I started to see God differently, too—less confined to the boxes I had inherited. In some ways, God began to feel… beyond gender altogether. (Go ahead, lower the pitchforks.) Not male, not female, not limited in the ways I had once assumed—but still deeply personal.
Oddly enough, a TV show—The Chosen—helped with that. It made Jesus feel less distant, more human, more present. Not smaller, but closer.
And I didn’t lose everything I found while I was away.
There was a kind of peace I discovered in Wicca—a connection to nature, to stillness, to something sacred outside of walls. I don’t see that as something I have to reject now. If anything, it deepened the way I understand creation… and the Creator.
Somewhere in all of this, I realized something I wish I had understood earlier:
I didn’t have to choose.
I didn’t have to reject the Church in order to love the people in my life who aren’t part of it. I didn’t have to pick sides between faith and family.
I could love my family in my usual ferociously protective way—and still love the Church.
I could hold both.
And maybe most importantly, I could come back without pretending nothing had changed.
Because something had.
I didn’t expect leaving the Church to bring me back to it.
But maybe I didn’t come back to the same place.
Maybe I came back with clearer eyes, a steadier faith…
and a deeper understanding of God—one that felt closer, quieter, and less confined than before.
Leaving didn’t take me away from God.
Continue the Journey
- The Moment My Faith Stopped Being Simple
- What I Didn’t Expect to Learn From Leaving the Church
- Returning to Catholicism—But Not the Same Way I Left
The Long Way Home.. 