Debra Hamilton

 

Train children in the right way, and when old, they will not stray. - Proverbs 22:6

 

For Debra Hamilton, those words from Proverbs refer to teaching from her childhood that stayed with her. She was raised within the traditions of the Roman Catholic Church—daily Mass, confession, Catholic schools, sacred rituals. The lessons of childhood did not disappear. Instead, they evolved, reshaped by questions, family struggles, and a openness to new ideas.

 

Family of Origin

Debra grew up in a Roman Catholic household that she describes, humorously, as “Catholic by trade only.” Her father attended church mainly on Christmas and Easter. Her mother, by contrast, faithfully attended Mass each week and made sure Debra and her sister were enrolled in Catholic schools.Debra reflects on the influence of her grandmother, who was born in 1914 and, in Debra’s words, was “ahead of her time.” Though not particularly religious herself, she sent Debra’s mother to Catholic school.Family lore includes one memorable story from those years. As a girl, Debra’s mother once pulled the wimple off a nun’s head. The Sister reacted, declaring that Patricia Galvin was “going to the devil.” Debra’s grandmother marched into the school and told the nun firmly, “You’ll never say that to my daughter again.”

 

Lessons from Catholic SchoolDebra attended the highly-rated St. Kevin’s Roman Catholic School in Flushing, New York, where students went to Mass every day with their class unless their parents wrote a note allowing them to attend with family instead. Debra’s mother never sent such a note, so daily Mass became a routine part of her life through eighth grade.Certain memories from those years remain surprisingly vivid. Debra remembers her first-grade teacher, Sister Antoinette, who wore a short black habit. Even more influential were lessons she learned in second grade—experiences that shaped her thinking about religion for years to come.

 

Communion

During one rehearsal for First Communion, the Sister held up a wafer and said, “This is the body of Christ.” The children were instructed to respond, “Amen.”But then she explained that the wafers used for rehearsal were not consecrated. If they were consecrated, she told the class, they could not touch them. Only a priest could handle a consecrated host—not even the altar boys. If someone accidentally touched one, it would have to be spit out onto the paten, the small tray held beneath the communicant’s chin.Only later did Debra realize why the Sister had them taste the practice wafers.Years afterward, the Catholic Church changed its practice. In 1969, as part of reforms following the Second Vatican Council, Pope Paul VI allowed Catholics to receive Communion in the hand rather than only on the tongue.Debra remembers how difficult that change felt. As a child she had been taught repeatedly that touching the host was forbidden.“That was one of those rules that had been drummed into us,” she recalls. “It was hard when they changed it. I didn’t take Communion in my hand until I was in college.”

 

Confession

Another powerful memory from second grade involved learning about confession.At seven or eight years old, Debra often could not think of sins to confess. Sometimes she invented misdeeds—breaking a lamp or kicking her sister—just to have something to say.Afterward she would recite the assigned prayers—four Our Fathers and four Hail Marys—without really understanding their theological meaning.One day she asked her teacher:“If God already knows everything and loves us,why do we have to tell our sins to a priest?”Soon afterward her parents were called to the school. The Sister believed Debra was not showing sufficient contrition.Looking back, Debra says she never truly believed in the practice.“I didn’t know why at the time,” she explains. “But when I got older I thought, ‘Why do I have to tell my sins to some man behind a screen? I can tell God myself.’”

 

Growing Up Catholic

Other memories surfaced as Debra reflected on her early religious life. She remembers Sister Theresa, her fourth-grade teacher, and the rows of classmates sitting in their uniforms.In sixth grade, she and her classmates discovered the Sisters’ Alka-Seltzer tablets in the schoolyard. The children called them “fizzies” and swallowed them after lunch, fascinated by the bubbling sensation. Debra still remembers laughing about it—and being slapped for her discovery.For high school she attended St. Mary’s Preparatory High School, a private Catholic girls’ school known for its academic standards. Students attended Mass daily at 10:15 a.m., unless it was missed for activities like swimming.In biology class one nun declared, “I was created by God. You might think you were created from monkeys, but I was not.”Debra remembers thinking, This is supposed to be science. She saw no contradiction between evolution and faith.“I believe God created everything,” she says. “That includes evolution.”One teacher offered a more inspiring perspective. Mr. Adams introduced students to Good News for Modern Man, a modern English translation of the New Testament, and taught religion not through fear but through compassion. His approach to religion felt refreshing.“He had a hip way of teaching religion,” Debra recalls. “He wasn’t preaching fire and brimstone. He taught us that religion was really about helping other people. That stuck with me.”

 

College and Early Adulthood

After high school Debra attended American University in Washington, D.C. The campus exposed her to a wider world of cultures and religions, including many Jewish students.During those years she says,“I rebelled. I just stopped going.”Yet the structure of Catholic life remained deeply embedded in her. Looking back, she notes that she had received all the sacraments and had married in the same Roman Catholic church where she had taken First Communion and confirmation.“Yes, I married a Roman Catholic man—thank God,” she says with a laugh. Her sister had married a Jewish man, and family members warned dramatically that she would “go to hell in a handbasket.” Debra remembers thinking the judgment itself was more troubling than the marriage.

 

Raising Two Boys

Debra and her husband raised two sons, Thomas and Drew, bringing them to church regularly as they grew up.Then came a painful turning point.When Thomas was ten, serious behavioral problems forced him to leave school. The experience was devastating.Debra searched desperately for ways to help him, enrolling him first in a Christian school and later in psychiatric treatment programs.Each morning, she drove him to appointments and then continued on to St. Gabriel’s Church.For five years she attended Mass there every morning at seven o’clock.“I never missed,” she says.During those difficult years the church became a place of refuge. She grew close to a group of elderly parishioners she affectionately calls “the blue-haired ladies,” who encouraged her to read the Beatitudes and reflect quietly.“That’s where I learned to listen,” she says.

 

Learning to Listen

Listening eventually became central not only to Debra’s spiritual life but also to her career.Though she had trained as a lawyer, she gradually shifted toward mediation, a field that requires patience, empathy, and the ability to hear what people are truly saying.She founded Hamilton Law and Mediation, specializing in disputes involving animals—conflicts between veterinarians and pet owners, pet custody during divorce, and neighborhood disagreements.Her work helps people find peaceful solutions in emotionally charged situations.During long drives between responsibilities, Debra began listening to recordings by Abraham Hicks.

 

The web describes Abraham Hicks as:

A group of non-physical entities that provide spiritual teachings through Esther Hicks, an American author and motivational speaker. The teachings focus on the Law of Attraction, which posits that our thoughts and feelings attract corresponding experiences into our lives. This philosophy has gained significant popularity, especially after being featured in the 2006 film “The Secret.”

 

“As I listened, Debra says, “I kept hearing that you can survive anything, that God is loving and guiding you.”“It felt like my God—not necessarily the Roman Catholic God—was helping me through,” she says.She also began writing daily in a journal, a practice she continued for ten years.“Journaling is good for your soul,” she says.As her sons grew older, Debra continued to reflect on the role religion played in family life.Her younger son, Drew, followed the expected Catholic path through confirmation, though sports often competed with church attendance. At one point a priest even had to sign documentation confirming that Drew had fulfilled his Sunday obligation while playing water polo.Later Drew married a Catholic woman, though the couple chose not to have a traditional Catholic wedding ceremony.Debra admits she would once have objected.“Now,” she says, “I think you just don’t say anything.”What matters most to her now is not religious labels but character.“I don’t know how religious my kids are,” she says. “But I know they’re good people.”

 

Faith Today and The Lesson That Has Remained

Today Debra describes herself as spiritual rather than traditionally religious.

She no longer wears a cross. She laments that Christianity has been “bastardized” by the Christian Nationalists. Instead, she sometimes wears a symbol of the Chinese zodiac sign under which she was born—the Year of the Horse, associated with independence and courage.

 

Looking back, Debra sees her spiritual life as a long journey—from religious rules toward a deeper understanding of kindness and human connection. “I’m more mystical now,” she explains. “I’m not liturgical.” She still believes deeply in God and in Jesus, but she sees their teachings differently than she did as a child. “I’m sure Jesus was real,” she says. “He helped everyone. He washed people’s feet. That’s the Jesus I believe in—the one who served others.” She believes God created the world and entrusted humanity with the responsibility to care for one another.“We all belong,” she says. “We’re supposed to help those who have less and respect each person’s own path.”

 

Today Debra describes herself as religious in a broad, universal sense. Her spirituality no longer centers on buildings or rituals.“I believe God is here,” she says. “Not just in a church or in recited prayers.” Instead, she experiences faith through everyday moments—through music, through unexpected encounters, and through the quiet sense that life sometimes guides people toward the people they need to meet. “If I don’t get a parking spot,” she says with a smile, “maybe that means I’m supposed to walk and meet someone along the way.” She still appreciates the value of introducing children to religion. “It’s good to give kids something to explore about the universe when they’re young,” she says. What remains constant for her is a belief she traces back to second grade: God created human beings with love and free will. “We’re going to make mistakes,” she says. “God isn’t punishing us for them. He hopes we learn from them.”

 

“My religion is being kind to people,” she says. “Helping when I can. Learning even from the people who hurt me.” She pauses for a moment before adding the principle that now guides her life:“ I try to do unto others as I’d like them to do unto me. I just try to be the best person I can.” And, in that way, the old proverb still holds true: the lessons planted early in life often remain.