Growing up, my mother had a teak sideboard. It was made in the early 1970s, because it was part of a set of furniture my parents bought when they first got married. It was well-made, of solid wood, practical and simple. I thought it was unspeakably ugly.

I am sure it was fashionable at the time, but fashion is fickle – and by the late 1980s it appeared so passé: “but it’s useful,” my mother would protest whenever I (or another of her children) sought to express their unanimous displeasure at the offending item: “it has room to store everything we need for the dining room.”

She was right, it did; and the antique piece from my grandparents I insisted take its place was (and is) far from useful. It has three extremely heavy drawers that are deep and unwieldy. It is not airtight and is impossibly bulky. No matter: the 70s sideboard was out – and my poor mother has had nowhere to store her tablecloths since.

Why did it offend me so much? I ponder, some 25 years hence. I was embarrassed by it; it seemed to demonstrate that my parents did not much care for trends and fashion (they didn’t…and don’t) but that was unacceptable to a 90s teenager. It was intolerable. I regret my adolescent whining now. The piece was perfectly inoffensive – in fact, being solid wood and well-crafted, it had its own utilitarian elegance. But more importantly, it represented something to my mother: her first dining set as a newlywed. She should have stood up to me.

Sometimes we feel similar emotions regarding the things of the Church. Perhaps that statue brings back bad memories; or that hymn reminds you of religious sisters whose kindness was shown not in cuddles and caresses, but by insisting on standards and manners; or the Confessional a grumpy priest who was a little gruff. The list goes on.

But we should never simply tear things out and throw them away. To do so leaves us rootless, and erases our connection with those who gave us the Faith in the first place. That is not to say we must preserve things in cobwebs, like Miss Havisham’s Wedding Breakfast. But we have to keep ourselves in check, because we each have the distinct ability to throw away things that are good, and that teach us about ourselves, because (for whatever reason) they offend our sense of taste and style in that moment.

Instead of this, it is better to try to be more objective. What are the good qualities of something that doesn’t please me. How do other people respond to it? Is it, in fact, me that ought to change? Such an attitude demonstrates spiritual maturity and a receptiveness to God’s grace. Very frequently the Lord puts us in situations – or with people – that are uncomfortable and displeasing. He does this so that we grow…and the great saints welcome the discomfort of the Lord’s providence by returning with praise and thanksgiving.