THE CALL to be Catholic

As a child, my best friend’s mother and my own mother shared the years of raising young children.

They bonded over coffee in the morning; mulled over life’s challenges; and planned neighborhood block parties together. They shared the Faith. Both loved Jesus, but my friend’s mother was Catholic. Mine was not. My mother leaned on the Bible and fellowship. My friend’s mom leaned into liturgy, sacrament and tradition. We were polite about the difference, but I never believed I would need anything like that.

What I did need, however, was my friend. She and I were born eight days apart and became grand companions. For years, I was at my friend’s home nearly as often as my own.

I played under her dining room table; explored her attic; and struggled to master her treehouse ladder. At my friend’s house, I saw my first computer; made forts out of couch pillows; and learned what yogurt was. Her mom showed me how to soothe burns with a snippet of her aloe vera plant and taught me the basics of weaving.

When we were 10 years old, these neighbors moved halfway across the country. Our mothers understood their own friendship would be distanced, but believed their girls should be given the opportunity to remain close. We have. I didn’t see my friend’s mother often after childhood, but her influence on me remained.

It was decades later before God made it clear he did have something for me in the Catholic liturgy, sacrament and tradition. I found those years of living life so close to that Catholic mother made it just a little bit easier for me to understand the call.

Today, I am a reflection of my own mother in so many ways, but I am now also Catholic.

Karen Ridder

When I see myself finding dignity in the Eucharist, leaning into a fight for social justice or feeling joy in the creative balance of womanhood, I can see the reflection of my friend’s mother coming through in me, too.

My friend’s mother recently passed away. That mighty woman in a little body lived a fiercely ironic life that way, but her love of God could never be questioned. Even a child could see that.

I am now the Catholic mother down the street, and I wonder what kids on the block find in me. In what ways am I influencing the children who come knocking at my door by being my Catholic self? Will they find any dignity and justice as they dash through my house? Will they see Jesus when they run upstairs to explore my attic? I hope so. I’d like to think I can pass that gift along.

Jesus said, in Matthew 19:14, “Let the little children come to me.” is a parishioner at St. James Parish in Liberty and a convert to the Catholic Faith. She graduated from the University of Missouri School of Journalism and has written for numerous publications in the Kansas City area. Karen and her husband Jeff have three sons and a daughter.

If we want to be parents who bring Jesus to the world, that is exactly what we should do. Let the children come to Jesus through you. It doesn’t have to be fancy. We just have to let them in.

God will do the rest.