24 Ways Our Family has Changed

Since Becoming Orthodox Christian Catechumens

It’s almost exactly a year now that we became catechumens of the Orthodox Church— after about five years of inquiry, contemplation, and some consternation. Our ongoing conversion has changed everything. Here are just twenty-four of the ways ways (among so many more) that our Family has changed since joining Orthodoxy.

1. Our kids fight less. In fact, when we were first catechized, almost exactly a year ago, our two oldest kids’ relationship moved through a foundational reconstruction, from a shared lifetime of being at each other’s throats (often literally) to becoming best friends and confidantes. We always felt that our eldest son was, or would someday be, his younger sister’s true protector and champion, and that deep down, our teenage daughter was (and would one day feel comfortable expressing that she was) her big brother’s biggest fan and supporter, but they had both struggled to display and embody these roles fully (understatement). Maybe it was just a coincidence that they buried their hatchets and uncovered their deep love for each other following our catechism, but maybe not. Apart from the dissipation of our big kids’ longstanding feud, our other children, for the most part, have always been close friends—with lots of normal sibling bickering. But overall, everyone seems to have more grace for each other since joining the Orthodox Church, and we are so grateful. (Come to think of it, it was around the time of our becoming catechumens that I also reconnected with my own sister in the spirit of abiding love, connection, and forgiveness. I used to feel deeply irritated when people would assure me that one day she and I would recognize that we are truly best friends…well, they were right. I now see and know that I love her—and always have—“philia” is the Greek term for the bond of deep love and affection present in those who have shared a common experience and “storge” is the warmth of family boundedness—I feel both sentiments for my sister in abundance and it’s such a gift). Orthodoxy has brought us all into a far more elemental knowing of family as the greatest form of abundance, and that has rippled outward.

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2. My husband Lee, underwent a truly miraculous awakening. For the first time in his life at age forty-eight, discovered and embraced Jesus and the love of God through Orthodoxy. Following a childhood immersed in an oppressive and domineering form of protestantism, Lee had claimed atheism from an early age (though I always argued that he was agnostic, sensing that his faith was simply obscured, rather than nonexistent). I had, to my shame, pressured Lee to come to the Anglican church with us for years (and he did come with us, though reluctantly and unenthusiastically) but it was only when I released any expectation or a commitment to pressuring him, that he began to come to church of his own volition entirely, and pursue God with dedication, delight, and in resonance with the beauty of the faith. His recognition of The Truth of God’s abiding presence, and his deep connection to the liturgy has been a source of inspiration to me in my own experiences of doubt and temptation.

3. We have relocated our family part-time, from Central America to the heart of midwest USA—a part of the world, which, it turns out we (or most of us…especially I myself) adore. There are so many things about the midwest that feel familiar and also uniquely lovely, but especially the four seasons, and the abundance of sun, are such a blessing. I grew up in the city of glass, Vancouver, BC, one of the most sophisticated and cosmopolitan cities in the world, and I’ve travelled to Paris and Madrid, Morocco, the Caribbean, Mexico, Managua, and most of North America’s major cities. In all honesty, Kansas City is my favourite. It’s scruffy and unpretentious, but full of stunningly beautiful old houses and buildings, emerald parks scattered everywhere (fountains galore), charming boroughs, each with their own unique eccentricities, and a fascinating history. We came here for our children’s school and to find our spiritual home and family, but I’ve never felt more at home in a material and literal sense, than I do in KC. Sadly, we return to Nicaragua soon, and it will be tough to go back to liturgy only once every couple of weeks (given the distance we have to travel to the one tiny Orthodox mission in the northern part of the country), but we’ll be back soon.

4. Our kids now love going to church—for real. We generally attend 3-4 services a week, which includes Divine Liturgy (usually 2.5 or 3 hours), and Vespers on Wednesday and Saturday evenings, but somehow, it never feels “too long” or “too much” at all. On the contrary, we and our kids are not just eager to go, but we’re delighted to go—hungry for it. This is a dramatic change from when we were practising Anglicans. Back then, we went to church most Sundays for the one-hour service, which felt interminable, and in general, church was dreaded by all. It was something we conceded was ultimately “good for us,” somehow (?), but it was largely boring and remote. Eat your vegetables, choke it down. We all love to attend now, not because we (or our children) have been manipulated or coerced, but simply because the experience of liturgy is….well, it’s sublime. It shimmers and ripples through us with joy and dignity and solemnity, and grace. The experience of it—the words and music and icons and motions of worship— is salvific—cleansing. A relief. It is a ritual of renewal like no other. I’ve discussed this before on social media, and I invariably get a smattering of comments from people (ignorant of Orthodoxy, clearly) who suggest that we have br*inwashed our kids, and that no “normal” children want to go to church. The implication is that not wanting to go (but being forced?) is somehow indicative of a well-adjusted family dynamic, and that willingness indicates a cult-like pathology. This isn’t just a bizarre and twisted perspective, it’s also preposterous given our particular family, and anyone who knows our kids would guffaw at such an assertion. Our kids are some of the most perspicacious, curious, critical, open-minded, skeptical, and clear-thinking people one might come across, and this is exactly the feedback we consistently receive from other people we encounter in the world as well (along with lots of comments about how polite they are, believe it or not!). Furthermore, paramount among our family’s highest values (and Lee’s and my highest values as parents) are freedom of thought and belief. This is not to say that we do not, as parents, actively seek to impart and imprint our values on our children—including our spiritual values—of course we do. That’s one of our primary mandates. But we are not, and have never been authoritarian, and the openness and embrace of free-will that is at the heart of Orthodoxy and so beautifully exemplified by our parish is one of the many aspects of our community of faith that we cherish the most—and feel a strong fundamental kinship with.

5. We no longer homeschool....full-time. Our kids attend an amazing Orthodox school that is connected to our parish, and they will be at school from November until June every year (at this point). We just attended the end-of-year ceremony and graduation, and it was such a beautiful gathering. Now, on the cusp of our return to Central America, we’ll be returning to homeschooling over the summer and into the early fall. Our routine is quite minimal, but we’ve always approached homeschooling from a loosely classical education / Charlotte Mason inspired perspective, which is fully in alignment with the kids’ school, and we have no doubt our return before Christmas will be a smooth one.

6. Life is harder, in many ways, since becoming a catechumen—for me, anyway. I see my flaws far more glaringly: layers and layers of pride and hypocrisy…and I frequently struggle with despair and self-hatred. My own resistance to goodness, to God, is intense and often dismaying, but I also notice some small and subtle ways that humility and self-awareness have infiltrated my consciousness…and the recognition of my resistance itself is something. Maybe I am softening a little, developing some modesty, and intimations, maybe, of an appropriate “phronema.” “Phronema” is the Greek word that combines the concept of the mind, thoughts, orientation, spirit, and disposition. It points to the idea of mindset, in a manner that reflects The Orthodox Way. I confess, though, that here are times that I almost wish I hadn’t discovered Orthodoxy. Ignorant heresy was much easier. I doubt myself, and God, constantly, while I also see the truth in this life. It’s both immensely painful and unbearably beautiful, and there is no going back.

7. My husband Lee and I are in better physical shape than ever before. Paradoxically, I also feel less concerned about my appearance than ever before, since joining the church…even while I find myself consciously embracing beauty, and attending to my body with a newfound sense of dedication, care, and self-respect. This might sound contradictory, but I don’t think it is. I’ve never been overly-preoccupied, really, with how I look—vanity isn’t my main thing (I have other main things, let me tell you). But since becoming an Orthodox catechumen, I have felt a re-commitment to caring for my body with grounded dedication and appreciation to God for my human form, and for the opportunity I have to remain vital, strong, and healthy, well into my hundredth year—and I am now in the very best shape of my life as a 44-year old mother of ten (soon to be 11) kids. Honouring my body and in particular, strength-training has been instrumental not only in maintaining energy and a sense of purpose, but in supporting the cultivation of discipline and sobriety overall. The body is a spiritual matter—as is beauty, and I do believe that it’s not only possible, but important, to foster and embrace beauty without vanity. This is especially significant for women in our 40s, in a world that is constantly casting negative spells about so-called “perimenopause”. (If you’d like my 2-hour long masterclass on exactly the steps I took to completely reconfigure my body and become lean and strong at the age of 44 after 10 kids, without HRT or GLP1s, the word is “VITAL”).

8. The intimate connection my husband and I have together has deepened. We have always been faithful and monogamous and free from p*rn in our marriage, but understanding the importance of chastity within the rightful bonds of matrimony from an Orthodox perspective has been transformational. No, “chastity” within marriage is not abstinence…quite the opposite, in some cases. But it is an approach to physical intimacy that is rooted in physical love in marriage as a sacrament, and this has enhanced our mutual respect and adoration, and confirmed that the intensity of love and sensuality as expressed in its most wholesome form is a gift from God like no other. Especially as we prepare to welcome our ninth child into our immediate family, the preciousness of embracing the tenderness of sacramental love in our marriage is more significant than ever.

9. I have unabashedly embraced The Patriarchy. As a now-repentant former-feminist, I no longer believe the patriarchy is evil, or even dispensable. We need a rightful patriarchy—all of us. Men and women are not equal, we are profoundly different and distinct in essence and energy and, yes, we are complementary. I now see feminism as one of the most insidiously damaging and misogynistic political movements ever devised and as one of the primary sources of familial fracture. I truly believe that a sound patriarchy can only enhance the unique, intrinsic power of women and that patriarchal provision and protection is essential for women’s (and our children’s) security, psyches, and spiritual integrity. And... the truth is, I *really* struggle in my attempts to de-program from the feminist ethos. I struggle to honour my husband properly, to submit, and I struggle in my efforts to reinstate the patriarchy in my home. This is connected to the fact that I was raised, from birth, in a home in which the socio-sexual dynamics were completely inverted. I love both of my parents deeply, and they did their best in the midst of a cultural revolution that was sold to them as liberation, while designed to wreak havoc on the structure and foundation of families…and it succeeded. My father was weak, ineffectual, and most importantly, spiritually lost. He was incapable of leading our family or providing any kind of framework at all, and my mother was forced to compensate, which further emasculated my father, and left them both unfulfilled, resentful, and disordered. I have, sadly, repeated some of these same patterns in my own life, and unravelling my tendencies towards seeking control and domination, and learning to soften and to allow my husband to step into his rightful (and significant) power and authority is confronting, painful, but ultimately deeply gratifying. (I’m leading a call coming up on June 21st, all about feminine virtue, submission, and healing marital wounds. Click here if you’d like to join.)

10. We trust and appreciate Hamer’s biological laws and the body’s capacity for self-healing even more deeply now, for its perfect integration with the Orthodox worldview. A few people have asked me if I am now going to “disavow GNM as the work of the devil,” as an Orthodox catechumen, and I had to lol. This, to me, is almost like suggesting that I disavow the observation of photosynthesis as the work of the devil (not that we necessarily have a full understanding of how plants metabolize sunlight, but still). On the contrary, the awe and gratitude I feel for being given a body that is so wonderfully capable of reconstitution and regeneration is greater than ever, and I have a much deeper appreciation for the importance of faith and of consciously orienting towards God while moving through a healing cycle. (I’m holding a LIVE GNM integration call coming up-- on June 28th. Click here to join.)

11. The rituals of prayer have become an essential part of our lives. We have a prayer corner facing east, in the entry way of our home, and we pray every evening and every morning, and at meal times—almost like clockwork (we’re getting there, anyway). We have family and individual prayer rules as directed by our spiritual father, and the specific prayers we along with the way we pray follows certain formalities and an orchestration which includes lighting candles, incense, making the sign of the cross, bowing, prostrations, and the veneration of icons. We have all found that the rituals of prayer offer an entry point and a container for contemplation, connection, gratitude, and forgiveness. Our prayer time is a refuge, in so many ways.
    

12. My understanding of birth, the physiology of birth, and the option to decline pain in birth, has only been confirmed and deepened thanks to Orthodoxy. Writing my bestselling book, PORTAL: The Art of Choosing Orgasmic Pain-Free Blissful Birth was a formative experience on my path to Orthodoxy, especially given that one of the primary editors of my book—the amazingly talented Sophia Zafares (whose handle is @wildsagewomb ) happens to be the wife of an Orthodox priest. I have had so many questions from other Christian women about how I can reconcile God’s apparent decree that women should suffer during birth, with the fact that I have experienced pain-free births. While I can’t claim to understand the mysteries of God and the world, what I do know is that God created the process of conception to be potentially ecstatic, and birth involves the very same body parts, hormones, and alchemical processes. According to the Orthodox tradition, the Theotokos—the Mother of God—was a human woman just like us, who offers us an example of the possibility we all have to surrender fully to God’s will and his Love, and to transmute suffering through obedient surrender—in birth as in mothering as in life. PORTAL is part-memoir, part guidebook, part philosophical treatise, and part exposition on the nature of God—and, in retrospect, it’s a map of my own conversion.

13. Our house is far cleaner and tidier. Since becoming a catechumen, I have quite drastically changed my view of, and approach to, housework. I have always enjoyed cleaning and organizing my home, but I have a new and different relationship to creating beauty in our living space, in the spirit of elevating our home to be a “little church,” as is the Orthodox way. Our church is a place of stunning beauty and order, and being there inspires me to dedicate myself to making our home a sanctuary too. This energy of peace emanates from the prayer corner in our entryway, and the various icons we have throughout the house, which are elements of our prayer practice as well as reminders of faith. Rest assured that I do often fail in my mission to maintain consistent order—things are frequently a total mess, of course. But I’m much more adept at approaching chaos calmly these days, and inspiring our children to do their chores joyfully as well—again, not saying much, perhaps, but something. Overall, our home is full of beauty (all objects and furniture thrifted from junk stores and from the side of the road, by the way), and I am very aware of what a privilege it is to have a home to keep, and to tend to. I am continuously practising a return to that disposition of gratitude. (If you’re craving mothering support, along with perspectives on family dynamics, house holding, natural health, and family wellness that you won’t find anywhere else, Join me in The Source—my private education space and resource hub for women. There, I lead 3 live calls a month, and membership includes access to a vast library of content, salons, and private podcasts, and classes.)

14. I am far more aware of sin now—my own sins, the idea of sin, and how I perceive sin in others. My understanding of what it is to miss the mark is far more refined, but at the same time, I am less judgemental of others. We hate the sin and not the sinner, including ourselves, and we are all sinners, each and every one of us. This isn’t self-abnegation or self-hatred at all. It’s simply true. One of the greatest sins is despair, which is often arrived at through self-loathing. In a way, I have learned—maybe just a little—to hold the concept of sin with a kind of tension that rides the line between the immensity of harm that can ensue from doing wrong, along with a diminishing sense of significance (to me) of others’ sins. We fall and fall and fall and rise again.

15. I am far less prideful and vainglorious (which really isn’t saying much at all, but… we fall and fall and fall again, etc.). This is especially the case regarding my views of Christianity and Christians— I used to almost laugh at more emotive, evangelical Christians. This is despite the fact I have always been one, in a sense (a Christian, that is) although I think it’s almost debatable as to whether or not Anglicanism really is true Christianity (oh dear)…Of course many Orthodox Christians would similarly argue that Orthodoxy is not a religion but rather an embrace of divine revelation and simply a way of being….a view that I feel and see and know and agree with, now. In any case, I had a very “Anglican” (i.e. disdainful) view of other Christians throughout my early life—they seemed naive and silly to me, a posture of which I am continuously repenting…though the hypocrisies I observed I see now as unfortunately knit into protestantism itself. Now, paradoxically, even while I feel less connection with protestantism than ever before (my own personal experience of embracing the truth of the church and the rituals of liturgy as intrinsic elements of how to know faith and understand the bible is the most potent evidence I have, of the fallacy of sola scriptura) I have also noticed all the former twinges of judgement falling away. I do stand for the possibility of others to find Orthodoxy as I have and to know the truth of it—and it is a privilege to be able to celebrate my faith as I am here, in hopes that others might be inspired—but I have no agenda or interest in evangelizing with any sense of expectation or insistence.

16. We find it a lot more straightforward to make sense of the world, and to offer a discerning interpretation to our children. Yes, it’s a mess. Yes, it’s a battle between good and evil. Now what? Especially in the wake of the fallout of Rona in 2020, we have, thanks to the Orthodox worldview and perspective (the long view) garnered a sense of clarity when it comes to the social and political issues at play. The wheel turns, and here we are—faced with the same old challenges, and new ones too. It’s grim sometimes, yes, to witness the fragmentation of people’s minds and relationships and society, but seeing it clearly makes it so much easier to have compassion for those who are suffering, and to simply be here. Far from isolating us, Orthodoxy has allowed us to fully participate in this fallen world (which is, for better or worse, our present environment) with much greater resilience, while also recognizing that we can be in the secular space, without being of it.

17. I am more skeptical than ever, and I question everything more. Yes, the unified coherence of the philosophy, structure, framework and hierarchy of Orthodoxy is a blessed solace, but in no way is it an anaesthetic. Orthodoxy is deep, and wide, and orderly and ultimately simple, but not simplistic or formulaic. Our spiritual father (unlike every other priest I encountered within protestantism or Anglicanism) has never shied away from answering any question I have put to him (or witnessed being put to him), nor has he ever shut down questioning with formulaic answers or dismissiveness. I feel held and encouraged in my inquiry, and accepted, lovingly, in my doubts.

18. Our children now sing all the time. Music has always been a significant part of my life. I grew up singing in our Anglican Church choir from an early age, and I started taking formal classical piano lessons when I was three years old. I also spent years in the performance and competition circuit (which I felt very ambivalent about--any fellow Kiwanis survivors?) during my childhood, but my heart was in composition and improvisation (though I do love playing Bach and all the masters). I ended up taking my Grade 9 Royal Conservatory, but I never *really* learned to read music, then I taught piano throughout my twenties and into motherhood…which was a mixed bag. I’ve always sung and played the piano (buying a $200 piano was number one on my agenda when we came to the US) but when our kids got a little older, I was still holding on to a lot of musical trauma from the kinder performance cycle, and I wasn’t able to overcome my own issues in a way that would allow me to really nurture a love of learning to play classical music in them (though we listen to classical instrumental music, early music, and opera all the time at home, and they definitely have an appreciation for the genres). Anyway. Since joining the church, our kids have been singing in their school choir (which leads Wednesday morning liturgy every week), and all of a sudden, they’re singing all the time. They also consistently break into joyful impromptu expressions of parts of the liturgy (which is almost completely sung) at home, and I am moved and full of gratitude for it. Even little Margaret has started to sing what is unmistakably her version of “Holy Mother Mary of Egypt, pray to God for us” and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

19. I am no longer afraid of The Truth. I used to try to dance around the “Truth,” like every good liberal. There are many truths! The Truth is subjective! It’s not, but I’m also not interested in arguing with anyone about it. The irony is that in a way, it is true, that for someone who believes in the contradiction of relativistic truth, the inherent conflict of their argument will be the only “truth,” they themselves have access to, despite the assertion of the existence of “multiple truths” being a tautology. Ultimately, there is no reconciling these two fundamentally oppositional epistemological viewpoints, and that’s just fine. Now that I know The Truth, The Way, and The Light, no insistence or objections to anything lesser are needed.

20. I succumb to worry and fear far less. Prayer really is a refuge, and trust in God is medicinal. I’ve been a chronic worry-er about many things, in the past. It felt revelatory to encounter the idea that worry is actually…sinful. Saint Paisios said that “Worry is the product of the ego. A humble person doesn’t worry because he entrusts himself to God,” and while I have more than my share of ego-entanglements, I have absolutely noticed that my propensity to worry since becoming a catechumen has lessened, thank God.

21. I wear dresses now more than ever. This isn’t new— I’ve always loved dresses—but I find myself wearing them more day-to-day rather than just as a “special” occasion (though I also wear shorts and jeans still, too). I’m happy to admit I’ve been inspired by the unspoken dress code established by the other women at our church. There is something about a dress that does indeed invoke more attentiveness to grace, and posture, and a ladylike dignity—all things that I want to encourage more in myself and my daughters. I also cover my hair with a veil when in the nave at church, and increasingly, when we pray at home. I would have balked at this in the past, but I now see it as a symbol of decorum, poise, and distinction. ( I wrote a little bit about my adoption of the head covering in one of my earlier posts, here).

22. We speak a different language now. Yes, changing culture will change you. Each member of our family now find ourselves saying, with total love and sincerity, “Glory to God,” often, and assuring people that we will pray for them. During the Pascha season, we Orthodox Christians greet each other and depart with “Christ is Risen,” responding with “Truly He is Risen!” In the past, all this would have sounded affected and performative to me. But, Glory to God, I see now that these are the most precise, accurate, and truthful utterances.

23. I am online less these days than I have been in the past 5 years (and same for Lee and the kids). Yes, I still run my business online (here I am!) but I scroll far less, and I am far more intentional in the way I use my phone and social media. In the most practical sense, being at home and at church with our kids and praying and living, simply means less time on the screen, by default. In a deeper, darker sense, I see many aspects of how technology is superseding human connection as the invocation of demons. Strange times are coming. Strange shadowy times are here. To deny this is pure delusion. As the lines become blurrier and less distinct, the only “answer” as I see it is a conscientious re-engagement with the world of the flesh and spirit, soil and toil and seed, heart and soul. I do as much writing as I can on-paper, I journal on-paper, and every time I mark the page with my pen, I thank God that these words are mine and mine alone, and that even this meagre passage (until I transcribe it here, of course) is the documentation of my sentience.

24. We have a completely new (and old) understanding of community, what constitutes true community, and what is required for a community to be function. I used to believe that mere commonalities like birth choices, or parenting preferences, or political views (like feminism) were strong enough threads to bind women together, but I now see that true community must be forged within the crucible of deeper values like faith, and worldview. I also now believe that real, functional community requires men to provide the foundation. True community is a family affair, and is a reflection of the family and its sphere of influence. True community is a mirror of natural law, the order of the sexes, rightful patriarchy, and the truth of God’s design.