What Love and Family Mean

Today is Easter Sunday, and I went to Catholic Mass with my dad. We went to the church we went to every Sunday when I was a child - the place I had my first confession, my first communion. When my dad asked me to go to church with him on Easter last week, I reacted the same way I always do when someone asks me to go to church... I crinkled my nose and made a face... but I agreed almost immediately, and this surprised me.

I haven't been to church in maybe two years. I am not Catholic anymore, for my own, well-thought out and researched reasons, and I don't particularly enjoy the typical Christian service on the whole; but being back in that church today, in the place where so many of my early memories took place, reminded me of two things:

1. We hadn't been to that church since my mom was alive.

2. My mom came to church with us every Sunday, back when it was a weekly thing.

This might not sound unusual, but if you knew my mom, you knew she was very much not religious. My mom did not believe in God, but she fully supported my dad in his beliefs, and consented to raise her children as Catholic, because it was important to him. Mom would patiently sit with us every Sunday, but whenever I asked her questions about why she didn't take communion, what she believed happened when we died, she answered me honestly.

My parents had a beautiful marriage. Of course, it wasn't perfect, but you'd be hard-pressed to find two people who loved each other more, who honored each other more, or who stuck to their wedding vows the way they did - in sickness and in health, 'til death did they part.

My mom knew that love meant supporting, respecting, and honoring the ones you cared about in their passions. She knew that something as trivial as different religious belief... or political belief... not only did not render two people incompatible, it was easy to work through. All it takes is a little respect.

So when my dad asked me to come to church with him, I said yes. Not because we share the same beliefs, not because I am at all unsure of my own beliefs, and not because I wanted to avoid an argument. I realized in that moment that my parents, different as they were, shared this deeply-held value of respect. My dad has been to yoga with me many times. He has listened to my opinions on religion, and he is always open to discussing this topic that so many people find uncomfortable. I love my dad, and it is the least I can do to go to church with him when he wants the company.

So today, we went to church. We went to church, and, for the first time, my dad didn't expect me to believe. He was just happy for the company. And I was happy to be there with him, in a place that reminds him as much of his up-bringing as it reminds me of mine.

Love knows no discrimination. Love passes no judgement. Love can be as simple as being present with the people you care about and supporting them in what matters to them.

Happy Easter, all. I hope you are always able to honor the things that most matter to the ones you love.