Liz

Growing up, love often felt more like a burden than a blessing. My father’s infidelity and eventual abandonment of our family left deep scars that shaped how I viewed relationships and trust. As a child, I witnessed the unravelling of our home — the way my father’s priorities shifted away from us, the financial strain that followed his neglect, and the emotional void it left behind. What was once a place of security became a battleground of silent resentment and unspoken pain. When he finally stopped coming home altogether, it was as if the fragile threads holding our family together had snapped. Instead of healing, the wounds deepened with time. Annual gatherings that once brought relatives together disappeared, and the few interactions that remained were tainted by disputes over inheritance and whispered accusations. In this environment, love seemed transactional and self-serving, a far cry from the unconditional love I desperately sought.

The confusion didn’t stop at home — it extended into my faith. My father, despite his actions, had once been active in the Church. The disconnect between the faith he professed and the life he lived left me disillusioned and questioning. How could someone who claimed to serve God be so hurtful and distant? As I grew older, I found myself withdrawing, not just from my family but also from the faith that seemed powerless to bridge these divides. The idea of love had been so twisted in my experience that I began to doubt if it could ever be genuine, much less transformative. The hurt and betrayal hardened into a wall that I believed was necessary for self-protection, but it also isolated me from the healing and hope that love, at its purest, could bring.

Yet, even in this brokenness, I began to sense a call to something greater.

The journey back to faith was not easy; it required me to confront the wounds I had carried for years. Forgiveness felt impossible at times, especially when memories of betrayal resurfaced. But through immersing myself in God’s Word, I began to see that true love is not defined by human failings but by Christ’s sacrificial love for us. This revelation challenged me to let go of resentment and to strive for healing, even when it meant risking vulnerability. Though the journey is ongoing, I have found strength in the belief that love, when rooted in God, has the power to redeem even the most broken relationships.

Yet, my life felt like a storm I couldn’t escape. Every hurdle I faced left me questioning God, asking why things seemed so unfair. I thought I lived with integrity, yet I often found myself being mistreated or taken for granted. In my search for answers, I explored other spiritual paths, but none filled the emptiness I carried. Deep down, I longed to return to the Church, but my heart wasn’t ready.

One day, I noticed a small bulletin about the Landings program at OLPS Church. It was tucked away on the mezzanine staircase, and something about its 10-week format felt manageable. That moment was the nudge I needed. I made the call, and it became the first step of my journey back to God.

Walking back into the Church after being away for so long was daunting. I worried about being judged, about breaking down in tears and drawing attention to myself. But I felt something beyond my fear—a quiet assurance that I wasn’t alone. I know now it was the Holy Spirit gently guiding me, paving the way for my return.

Prayers I had learned as a child became a source of comfort. People I never expected — a distant aunt, a kind ex-colleague, the people at Landings — seemed to appear at just the right moments to encourage me. One conversation, in particular, left a deep impact. A former colleague asked me to pray for someone who had hurt me deeply in the past. At first, I resisted, but slowly, God worked in my heart. Over time, I found myself not just forgiving but truly praying for those who had caused me pain.

I started to attend Mass more regularly, the sacraments began to feel different — no longer rituals I went through out of obligation but encounters with God that brought healing and peace. Confession became a space where I felt lighter, and unburdened. Receiving the Eucharist became a moment of deep connection. I realised that even in the years when I felt distant, God had always been with me, carrying me through my struggles, even when I didn’t recognise it.

Being part of the Catholic community has been life-changing. Through life in church communities and other acts of service, I’ve found purpose and fulfilment. It’s a joy to share my faith with others, and to reach out to those who might feel as lost as I once did.

If you feel distant from the Church or unsure about coming back, my heart goes out to you. I’ve been there. Take it one step at a time. Say a prayer, or simply sit in the quiet and speak to God. And if your distance is because of people who’ve hurt or disappointed you, remember that the Church is made up of imperfect humans. But God, in His infinite love, is waiting to embrace you.

For me, returning to the Church has been like finding home again. I no longer feel alone or unloved because I know I’m part of God’s family. I’ve also learnt to turn to Mother Mary as my greatest intercessor. She hears my every worry and leads me closer to her Son. Through her, I’ve discovered a love so profound it fills every corner of my life.

Now, my life feels fuller, brighter, and more peaceful. The challenges are still there, but I face them with faith, knowing that God is always with me.

Liz (not her real name)

Shared with love by Landings Singapore.

Also featured on CatholicStories.sg to reach more hearts in our Catholic family.