Praise be

My Mum worries about my soul.

She's probably the most religious person I know, and I don't know what to say to her. My faith, or perceived lack thereof, is of great concern to her. She genuinely believes, as a devout catholic, that you must attend church every Sunday, else you risk your soul. She's by no means a foolish woman, quite the contrary, but she is stubbornly dogmatic when it comes to matters of faith. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, it's not something we discuss often. Obstinacy runs in the family and neither of us will yield easily. The best we could manage was to reach a cordial impasse several years back. We've politely skirted the issue since.

It's on my mind, because she brought it up, albeit briefly, in a phone call on Sunday. I brushed it off, but yesterday I received a card from her, wishing me well at Easter. The card had an overtly religious theme. I don't object to the card - it's a good thing to be remembered, at any time of year - but I do wonder at the message behind it and the phone call. She worries about me. Is worried about me. It's a poor thing to cause others grief, but in this instance there's little I can do about it - I can't change my beliefs and she can't change hers. And there is no middle ground. But that's the problem with religion, isn't it? No middle grounds.

Sigh.