When I was a young mom I decided to go to graduate school.  I lacked a few  credits in psychology.  So,  I enrolled in an evening class at  community college.

The first session opened with a DVD briefly introducing different approaches to psychology.

I panicked.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

For the entire class I fought to keep my composure. The next day I called my graduate adviser and put my educational plans on hold.

“I’m not going to pursue my degree,” I told him over the phone, “I just don’t have time to study.”

I lied.

I quit because I was terrified of losing my faith.

This is not such a big leap as it seems. I grew up in a neo-conservative fundamentalist Christian community. Women wore skirts. Men kept their hair cut short. No one dared dance, drink or play cards. Rock music was forbidden for fear the beat would drive person  to lust and destroy his  soul.

At the time I contemplated graduate school,  I worshiped in a  church  focused on serving a loving  God rather than keeping a safe distance from the unknown.

But, the fear remained.

I never went back to school. Instead, I immersed myself in raising my kids.

Now, my  kids are grown.

It’s time to  re-examine my faith,

explore what really holds me to God.

I want to have  the confidence of the writer of the book of  Romans.

He said, “… neither death nor life, …nor any powers…will be able to separate us from the love of God…”

I’m not just not there yet.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night,

I have doubts.

But, I want to believe.