Episode 16 - Welcome Home (Bonus episode)

Welcome to Outside the Line - the podcast for cops who are learning to stay anchored to the real world.

In this week's bonus episode, I talk about my journey back to my faith.

For a long time, I thought I had gone too far. Been too angry, too distant, too far removed from the little girl who once believed without hesitation.

I stopped going to Church. Stopped praying. Stopped trying. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself God probably gave up on me the way I gave up on Him.

Fifteen years later, terrified, I walked into a confessional and heard two words that changed everything, "Welcome home."

This week's bonus episode is the most personal one I've recorded yet - about  losing my faith, rediscovering it, and realizing I was never actually walking alone.

If you've ever felt too far gone...this one's for you too.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:02

Welcome to Outside the Line, a podcast with conversations about keeping cops anchored to what really matters, life outside the thin blue line. I'm your host, Dina Campbell, an active duty NYPD detective on a mission to normalize conversations around resilience and mental health and help cops develop self-awareness and an identity outside their career so they can enjoy life and thrive in the real world. Outside the line. Today's episode is a bonus episode that I almost wasn't going to do because it's really personal. Today I'm not here as a podcast host or a peer supporter or even a cop. I'm not even here as someone who has it all figured out. I'm here as a daughter, a mom, a wife, and a woman who walked away from her faith and somehow found her way back. This isn't something that I've, I don't know if I've ever actually spoken about this publicly because it is so personal. But this being Easter weekend, it just seems like, you know, no time like the present, right? So more accurately, I should say, not that I walked away from my faith and found my way back, but I realized that I was never actually walking alone. So if you feel like you've ever drifted or you've been angry at God, or you've ever thought, I'm too far gone. There's no coming back from this, stick around because this episode is for you. I'm what you call a cradle Catholic. Some of my earliest memories are sitting in the pew at mass every Sunday. We would all go as a family, my dad, my mom, and my two younger sisters. And I remember, I literally remember this. I don't know how, I don't know how old I was. Had to be like four or five, maybe. I remember sitting in the pew at mass, sitting on the kneeler. My mom would usually let us bring coloring book and crayons to keep us busy. So I would sit on the kneeler and use the pew, you know, to write on. But I remember flipping through the missile book at mass and being frustrated because not because I didn't want to be there, but because I couldn't read yet. I wanted to follow along with the reading so badly. I remember feeling so strongly that I was missing out on something important by not being able to read the words. Like everybody else had access to information that I didn't yet. And again, I still remember that. It's crazy. I don't, I don't know how, but I still remember. And even as a kid, I wasn't just going through the motions of faith. I actually believed it. I believed all of it. But you know, childhood wasn't perfect. It wasn't always peaceful either. Before my parents got divorced, some nights I would fall asleep to the sound of them arguing. And it's nothing against my parents. I don't blame them. Listen, I argue with people all the time. It's just arguing is just part of having a relationship and communicating sometimes. You just argue. As a kid, though, I remember some nights that arguing being so unsettling that I would pull the covers up over my head, trying to drown out their voices so that I could go to sleep. But unfortunately, the quiet under the blankets wasn't peaceful either. It was always very anxious and restless. And I would toss and turn many nights trying to fall asleep, but not being able to tune out the arguing and just wondering how I could make it stop. And then when I did fall asleep, it wasn't a peaceful sleep. I would remember waking up restless and sometimes even anxious the next day. But during that season of my life, something extraordinary happened. I didn't realize it was extraordinary at the time until I told my mom about it. I thought this happened to everybody. I don't know. About three or four times during my childhood, I had the same dream. My room was, the bedrooms were all on the second story of the house. And when I was in my dream, I would be asleep and I'd be awake to a knock at the window. And you couldn't get to my window from the ground. Obviously, we're on the second floor. There was no garage or no roof or anything. And I would go to the window, and it would be either Jesus or the Blessed Mother just floating outside my window, never saying a word, but their hand was always extended, like reaching out to me. And every time in the dream, again, this happened like three or four times, I would take their hand. And we would just soar. First, we would soar over my house, my neighborhood, my hometown, never speaking. There was no words ever. There wasn't fear either, or confusion, or even questions. Like I didn't question the fact that Jesus or Mary was at my window. I didn't question the fact that I would just take their hand and all of a sudden we were just soaring and flying through the air at night. Like none of somehow it all made sense. There was just this overwhelming peace. Like I instinctively just knew that everything was going to be okay. Words weren't even necessary. Looking back on it now, I don't know if those dreams came on nights that I was especially anxious because I blocked so much of that time, that period in my childhood. I just blocked it out. But I know how it made me feel safe, seen, and loved. And then as I got older and I finally learned to read, I developed a love for horror and suspense novels. And I actually forgot about this because I have so much of my childhood from, I just don't remember so much from that time, but I do remember this. I used to love horror and suspense novels, especially I started out with the Goosebumps books, and then I would go to I had this like complete volume of Edgar Allan Poe short stories and poems and all of that. So unfortunately for me, my favorite time to read was right before bed. A terrible decision, right? So I would read these horror stories right before bed and then wonder why I couldn't sleep. So eventually I kept my Bible on my nightstand. And I promise you, I actually did this, asked my mom. I kept my Bible on my nightstand, and I would get so scared reading goosebumps or Poe or whatever I was reading that I would read scripture to calm down. And I'm not, I don't think that made me special. I'm not saying it because I'm coming from a place where I think I'm better than everybody else. I'm just trying to give you some backstory into who I was as a kid. I didn't half believe my faith. I was all in. I believed all of it. I believed that Jesus loved me individually. I believed that I was worthy of that love. And I believed that the blessed mother watched over me and all of her other children. There was no doubt, there was no void back then, which I'll get into. So somewhere after confirmation, after high school, I lost my way. I I don't think, well, I don't think I turned my back on the church. I think I just slowly made one decision after another that took me further away from my faith. And then at a certain point, I was like, wow, I don't even know how I got here. So, you know, tragedy happens in my own life, in the world in general, and I got angry. You know, if if God is good, why is there so much evil? And why does he allow all this suffering? So I slowly stopped going to church, and then eventually I stopped praying, and then I completely stopped trying. I thought that I washed my hands of it completely. And eventually I figured, you know, if I walked away from God, then he probably washed his hands of me too. But here's the thing: even when I stopped practicing, I never stopped feeling like something in my life was missing. I don't know how to explain it. There was this void that no matter how I tried, I just couldn't fill it. Whether I filled my life with accomplishments, productivity, success, busyness, distractions, whatever it looked like, whatever I thought I needed, that didn't go away. So eventually I meet my now husband, but back then, when he was my boyfriend, then my fiance, we got engaged. We were both cradle Catholics, but neither of us were practicing. And I insisted on getting married at the reception venue because I'm like, well, marriage is a piece of paper anyway. What's the point in getting married in the church? Right? I just didn't see the value in it. Like, how is it different than getting married at the reception site? We'll just make it convenient for everybody, skip the church, get married right at the venue. And then I became a mother and something shifted. I looked around at the state of the world and I'm like, everybody is angry and anxious and miserable and medicated. Not that I have anything against uh medication in its proper, like when it's needed, but it just seemed like everybody was just so angry and so miserable. People were making gods, if you will, out of their careers, politics, social media, their identity, anything but the real thing. And I looked around and I just knew that I wanted more for my kids. I wanted them to have the faith that I grew up with. I wanted them to know that God exists, that He is love, and that they're made on purpose for a purpose, that they're not accidents, that their worth doesn't fluctuate with the changing times and the changing culture. But even then, I still procrastinated. When people started suggesting baptism, I got really defensive. I wasn't intending on getting my oldest baptized at all until, you know, my in-laws gently suggested it, and I kind of blew them off. I was like, yeah, yeah, yeah, okay, that's a good idea. And then I just never took the steps to seek out baptism for my oldest. And then my mom was like, you know, you should really consider this. And I got defensive, and I was like, I was so sick of unsolicited advice that I was looking at it as unsolicited advice. And it wasn't until my dad, who hadn't been to church in decades, looked at me and was like, I remember the exact words that he said. I know that this might sound rich coming from me, he says, but I'm saying this as your father and as her grandfather. You need to have her baptized. And I was like, wait a minute. I was like, you like if he of all people thought that this mattered, maybe it actually did. And that just goes to it it really says something about the the weight of a father's faith and the effect that it has on his family, the profound effect that it can have on his family. Because again, he hadn't been to church in decades, and now he's telling me that this is important enough that I not not even that I need to consider it, that I need to go and do it. So I did. I had all three of my babies baptized, but but I still didn't come back to the church myself. I still thought that I was too far gone. So backing up a little bit, and I'll this is why I don't do solo episodes because I go on too many side quests or tangents. Um also, anyway, we'll get into that in a minute. Case in point. So in 2017, backing up a little bit, while I was pregnant with my youngest, my third child. My mother-in-law was diagnosed with cancer. And watching her go through that battle, man, it was like I didn't even realize it kind of like broke my heart wide open, you know. It just made me realize how fragile life is and the fact that I was going to have to explain to my children heaven. And and, you know, once we knew that the cancer had spread and it was going to be terminal, that now I'm I'm trying to think about how am I going to have this this conversation, these conversations with my kids who were very young at the time about death and about heaven. And if I knew that if I was going to explain it to my kids, that I needed to believe it for myself. So there was a reconciliation Monday before Easter. And now we're in 2018. Uh, and I went to confession. 15 years it had been since I had been to confession, and I was terrified, heart racing, palm sweating, and everything else Eminem said in the beginning of his song. Like I was part of me thought that I might burst into flames just walking into the church. I didn't know what to say. And I actually dreaded the shorter the line got, the closer I got to the confessional, the worse it got. I just wanted to turn around and hightail it right out of church. But I didn't because I knew at the same time that it was somewhere that I needed to be. Like I needed to be here in this moment. So I get into the confessional and I didn't know what to say. I was like, bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been about 15 years since I've been to confession. I don't really, I don't remember, I don't know where to start. I don't remember the prayers. I don't really, I don't really know what to say. I just know that I'm supposed to be here. And I get choked up talking, like thinking about this every time. So bear with me. But he just said after I go on this like whole spiel about how it's been so long and I don't even know what I'm doing here. He just said two words to me. He just said, Welcome home. And I nearly fell apart. Like I wasn't judged, I wasn't shamed, I wasn't interrogated, I was just welcomed. And he walked me through everything, the whole process, all the prayers that I forgot, the mercy, the forgiveness. And when I left after after I left the confessional and after saying my penance, I felt lighter than I had in years. Not because I was perfect, because I was forgiven. So now fast forward, my you know, my mother-in-law passed away right before Christmas in the at the end of 2018. And sometime after that, I don't remember exactly when, but she came to me in a dream. I I had a dream that I went into the girls' room, my my girl Sarah room, and she was just on the floor laughing and playing with the kids, carefree, whole, no pain. And later, when my oldest survived that horrific bus accident, something that I share more about in episode one, I knew my mother-in-law was watching over her. And while I was on the the I was at work when it happened. So while I was on my way up to the hospital, I made a promise to God. I said, God, if you spare her life, I will raise my children in this faith. I will bring them to church, I will make sure that they receive all their sacraments, I will do whatever you want. Please just spare her. So I was telling my mom this, and my mom told me something that her mother used to say, When you make a promise to God, you keep it. So I did. I took them to church. Um, my oldest two have their, you know, they started making their sacraments, they made their communion. My little guy made his first reconciliation and he's making his first communion in a few weeks. Um, but an opportunity came up to teach CCD, Catholic school. And I wrestled with it for years. It was two or three years I wrestled with it. I made excuses. I thought of every reason in the book why I didn't have time or I just couldn't do it or it wouldn't work out. But then I realized if this is important enough for my children to be attending, then it was important enough for me to walk the walk and speak with my actions, not just my words. So I volunteered. And actually, it as it turns out, that year that I the same year I volunteered, one of my friends volunteered to be an assistant. So we got paired together and now we teach CCD together, she and I. Here's the truth though, I still don't have all the answers. I'm I'm definitely not some holy roller, perfect, anything like that. And if anybody ever got that impression, please, that is not the case at all. Like I do not want anybody to think that. I still sin regularly. I'm not proud of it. That's just the reality of my life. I am a sinner. I still wrestle with doubts sometimes. And I am by no means the poster child for a perfect Catholic, right? But I realized that I found what I was searching for. That thing that I've been missing, that void that I thought that I had in my life, it's filled, it's gone now. And now in its place, I have community. I have a sense of belonging, forgiveness, redemption, sacraments, grace. God never asked me to be perfect, he only asks me to be faithful. And even when I turn my back on him, he never turned his away from me. He was right there the whole time waiting for me to see him, waiting for me to welcome him back in. Maybe those dreams weren't random, the ones that I had when I was a kid. I don't know. Maybe it was his way of reminding me all along that everything really is gonna be okay. So if you walked away, if you're angry, if you think that you you're too far gone, that forgiveness and redemption are impossible for you. That's not true. You haven't gone too far, there's no such thing. The doors are always, they're still open. And I promise you, when you walk back in, you won't hear condemnation. You'll hear what I heard. Welcome home. Thanks for being here with me today. In case you haven't heard, you are mattered, you're loved, and you are not alone. God bless. Thank you so much for stepping outside the line with me today. If you enjoyed this episode, consider sharing with a friend or to your social media network. And if you do, please tag me so I can reach out and thank you. The views and opinions expressed in this podcast are personal opinions, not reflective of the host or guest department. This podcast is for entertainment purposes only. If you're struggling with your mental health, please seek professional health. Resources are available. In case you haven't heard today, you are loved, you matter, and you are not alone.