He called the next day and said “I have been thinking, and I am ok with getting married in the Church. You were raised Catholic and you’re a good person, so it can’t be all that bad.” I was overjoyed! I promised God I would thank Him for that grace the rest of my life. Superman also agreed that we would use Natural Family Planning (NFP) in our marriage for the times we had serious reasons to avoid pregnancy. Although he didn’t understand the moral consequences of artificial birth control, he knew that he didn’t want me pumping my body full of cancer-causing hormones. That September, our precious daughter was born, and we were married in the Church three months later. I offered up the pain of my first childbirth for my husband’s conversion. Since I waited a *bit* too long to get my epidural, well…I’m pretty sure his soul made some decent progress because of that! Hah!
The first years of our married life were tough for me spiritually. Though I had made much spiritual progress from the place I was when I resented the Lord, I was now resenting our disunity in faith. Because I resented it, I didn’t go to Mass every Sunday. I went once a month, maybe. I reasoned that my infant didn’t know we were missing Mass, so did it really matter? My prayers were sporadic at best. My love for God was more like a wimpy tealight candle than a blazing inferno. Continue reading