I have told this story on line before. Bear with me. I had a hard birth with my son. He stopped breathing five times in the womb. I know he is a miracle baby. The next morning, with the smell of lilacs coming in through the open windows, after a late night birth. I held this tiny baby in a ward of an old Victorian hospital in Cuckfield, Sussex. It was noisy on the ward, as one did not have private rooms in those days, only curtains separating beds. Daddy was not there as spouses only had two times a day they could visit.
All of the sudden, my baby and I were enveloped in complete silence. I recognized a God moment. I heard as clearly as any human voice, the Voice of God. He said, “When you die, I shall ask you one question. Did you pass your Faith on to your son?” I said yes. The silence ended and all the noises of the beautiful spring day came back. I did not know then that a few years later, it would be my own, personal responsibility without the help of a spouse to do this, although Daddy did help me in the beginning.
I began home schooling in 1991 and ended in 2006, when son went to TAC. I was a single mom working as well as home schooling. This is the primary duty of every Catholic parent-to pass on the real Faith of the one, holy, Catholic and apostolic Church. I may fear my personal particular judgement for other sins, but not the sin of neglect of my duty, which was a duty made so clear to me on the morning of April 27th, 1988, the day after my son’s birth.