Listen to this music while you read, bc it’s just beautiful.
In case you missed it, you can read Part 1 Here or Part 2 Here. Brevity is not my forte. So this is going to be a 4-part series after all, folks. Sorry it took me so long, I promise my next post won’t take quite so long. I just got slammed with schoolwork and midterms.
As my relationship with Ben progressed, the storm that had been raging within began to calm, and I was laughing again. It had been a long time since experiencing a close, loving relationship with someone I felt safe with. Before I got too comfortable, however, I found myself consulting my parish priest about the annulment process one sunny morning. After a brief conversation, Father fished through his desk drawers for the paperwork. My real reason for being there choked in the back of my throat as I searched for the most euphemistic words possible to describe my more-than-friendship with Ben. I finally blurted it out, rationalizing away all the intricacies of our relationship. He paused in his search, and his brows furrowed slightly as the smile faded from his eyes, replaced with a tender disappointment. He attempted to recover his pleasant demeanor as he silently discerned a prudent response. I was hoping to hear, “It’s great that you’re finally happy again because God wants you to be happy!” Instead, he let out a heavy sigh that thickened the atmosphere. He prefaced his message saying he was happy I had a friend whom I was trying to show the truth of Catholicism. I glanced at the door, knowing what was coming next. I had been avoiding the collision of the two opposing worlds that I knew deep down couldn’t possibly coincide peaceably for much longer. The time for choosing was drawing nigh, and Father made that painfully clear. His reproach was direct, but cushioned by paternal care; it both stung and warmed my heart. He explained the importance of considering myself married because an annulment is not guaranteed and demonstrated a true concern for my soul (All without using the *A* word—adultery).
After my conversation with Father, I couldn’t bring myself to receive communion at Mass any longer, just in case I thought. Although, I still wasn’t 100% convinced I would have to sever my relationship with Ben. I couldn’t break his heart and mine unless it was beyond a shadow of a doubt what had to be done. Having a strong background in Theology and Philosophy, I started delving deeper into Catholicism, desperately seeking solid ground to stand on without having to give up my love for Ben. Over the course of months, my heart once again became enflamed with love for God and the Catholic Faith. My passion for Theology that I had buried long ago began to resurface.
I never confessed the sin of adultery because I never thought that’s what I was doing. After all, adultery was despicable, a person cheating on his spouse. My marriage wasn’t even valid; I was just waiting on paperwork for the go-ahead. I would tell myself, “God knows what’s up.” My relationship was uplifting and joyful. He was even bringing me closer to Christ! In what world could that be wrong? Ben and I were kindred spirits, and I know that is utterly cliche but there’s just no other way to describe it. I was taken aback by the level of understanding we reached with one another. He helped me remember myself, believed in my unrealized potential. He helped me out of the box I had imprisoned myself in, stripped away all the labels I had accumulated over the years, and helped me to see who God created me to be. He taught me that flaws and failures aren’t walls that box you in, they’re hurdles to climb over to make you stronger. Ben was truly the most honorable man I had ever met, and He loved Christ more than I ever had. He truly strived to live righteously, and that was more than I could say at that time in my life.
While all this was going on, I had been striving for physical fitness. Having lost 40 lbs, I took a lot of pride in my health and felt very empowered and independent. One day, I visited my doctor after noticing some irregularities, and tests revealed cysts on my ovaries, and they diagnosed me with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. After spending a year becoming a better, stronger me, this was like being hit by a Mack truck. After all I had been through, feeling victimized by life, I finally felt I had taken back charge of my life. Suddenly, I had this terrible realization that my life was not in my control. I had always entertained the idea of more future children to fulfill my lifelong desire for a large family. With my diagnosis, I saw my dreams circling the drain. To add to my dismay, I was told by multiple doctors that birth control was the only solution. Birth control is something that I don’t believe in for both health and moral reasons. These beliefs had been cemented earlier in life. I was blessed to learn priceless lessons about life, love, and family from my Catholic doctor and his wife including the many dangers of birth control, both physical and spiritual (More Info Here and Here). Do I just take the pill? (It may not sound as big a deal to some of my readers, but this was something thoroughly engrained in me morally.) That morally strong Sarah of old who used to know and stand for what she believed in reemerged. I just couldn’t compromise, despite being met with much opposition and condescension from my doctors. I had compromised much of my morals in the past year, so this seemingly small decision did much to resurrect my moral will; my true identity was reasserting itself.
Spring had arrived on Cape Cod, and the misery of a long winter was melting away. The sun poured through the stained glass windows as I knelt in Church before confession one Saturday afternoon. I gazed upon the cross as the Son’s rays penetrated my mind, which had been clouded by the haze of lies I’d been telling myself: I have suffered plenty, and now I deserve to be happy; God knows I’m not really married, He wants Ben and I to be together; I don’t have to do everything the Church tells me to, they’re more like a general guideline; there are people way worse than I am. I realized I was angry with God because I had strived for years to be faithful, and this is what I got in return? I tried so hard, exerted every last effort to make my family pleasing in His sight, and instead it was torn to pieces. My two worlds were colliding, this was it—the dreaded time for choosing. There is only one Truth, and one of these opposing worlds was a lie.
Please visit next week to see what came to be from this Battle of Worlds, so to speak. Thanks for reading. God Bless!
Lilting Lilies 