One Sunday at a Time

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

— 2 Corinthians 12:9

Today was my daughter’s first day of Religious Education.

If I’m being honest, I was nervous. Really nervous. In the past, it’s been hard—nearly impossible at times—to keep her in class. She wanders off, throws fits when I try to transition her back, and sometimes, by the time she’s settled, the class is almost over. I leave feeling exhausted, defeated, and sometimes even wondering if it’s worth it at all.

But today was different.

She lasted almost the whole class. It wasn’t until the last 30 minutes that the meltdowns came, and my husband gently took her out. Even with that, I couldn’t help but feel proud of her—for trying, for showing up, for making it further than before.

And then we went to Mass.

Mass is a challenge for us. My daughter is sound-sensitive, and today, when another child cried, it sent her into an instant spiral. She screamed loudly in the middle of church, and once again, we had to carry her outside. She didn’t make it back in, but my husband calmed her in the car while I stayed and finished Mass alone.

It’s not easy. In fact, it’s really hard—especially when I look around and see other seven-year-olds sitting quietly in the pews, listening, participating, being “normal.” My sweet girl is seven, but her mind is more like that of a three-year-old. I love her fiercely, but sometimes I can’t help but feel the weight of the difference.

And yet, even in those moments of defeat, I feel something stirring inside me: Keep going. Don’t give up.

I know in my heart that God sees us. He sees my daughter’s struggles. He sees the effort it takes just to show up. He sees the tears, the tantrums, the quiet prayers whispered in the parking lot, the moments when I feel like giving up but still walk back through the church doors.

We may not look like the perfect Catholic family, sitting neatly in the pews without a sound. But we are there. We are present. We are trying, one Sunday at a time.

And I believe that is enough.

I’m learning to surrender the frustration, the comparison, the “picture-perfect” idea of what Mass should look like. Instead, I hand it over to God. Because He knows our hearts. He knows that our desire is to be with Him, even when it’s messy, loud, and imperfect.

So we will keep showing up. For Religious Education. For Mass. For Jesus.

It might not look the way I imagined, but it is beautiful in its own way—because it is real, it is honest, and it is ours.

One Sunday at a time.

A Prayer for the Hard Sundays

Lord Jesus,

You see our hearts, our efforts, and our love, even when things don’t go as planned.

Give me patience when I feel weary, strength when I feel defeated, and hope when I am tempted to give up.

Bless my daughter and all children with special needs, that they may know Your love deeply, in their own beautiful way.

Help me to trust that showing up is enough, even when it feels messy, loud, or incomplete.

Thank You for walking with us, one Sunday at a time.

Amen.