My
grandmother brought me up Catholic. My first husband was Protestant, we’d
agreed to allow our children to grow up and make their own spiritual choices.
It was when my 13-month-old daughter passed away and a catholic priest refused
to bless her grave because she wasn’t baptised.
The implication that my daughter was abandoned in hell because she
wasn’t baptised devastated me. How could this so-called “god of love”, one to
whom I’d put my faith and devotion all my life, not gladly receive the soul of
an innocent child in his arms? I went through a spiritual struggle over the
next few years, shifting towards the Protestant Reformed Church and trying to
make se...