Another Beautiful Day In Chaos

sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't…

I ♥ being Catholic

My goodness… I’m torn. I have to admit, wholeheartedly that I love being Catholic… but for different reasons than most.

  • I love the kneelers (and get your minds out of the gutter…) I love the act of kneeling to pray. I think it’s humble… respectful… archaic and… sort of sexy… <sorry… but I know you’re not shocked>
  • I love that I always know the moves… and the songs. They change it up a bit- but the words never change. I can go to Mass anywhere in the world (even where I don’t speak the language) and still know the basics. I love that it’s connected- and that it’s sentimental like me.
  • I love prayers and intercessions. I’m a huge fan of power in numbers- and I feel so frustrated sometimes when I feel like I’m facing an uphill battle all alone. If you can reach out and ask for help & actually get it- it has to be easier… right? When my best friend died- it was the first time I asked for help in church and it truly gave me peace. I can admit I thought it was hokey and was somewhat uncomfortable about putting my own needs out there- but I missed her so much- and in that small moment it made all the difference in the world that my congregation was behind me- praying for our peace and her salvation. Made me feel like I could breathe again.
  • I love the incense…I love the holy water,I love the celibate priest, I love the altar,I love kneeling,I love the sign of the cross. I love being Catholic. Unabashedly. My mom even bought me a book with the same title because I was sick of defending it. YES I KNOW. There have been some MAJOR Catholic assholes. I’M NOT ONE OF THEM. Ugh. I hate the people that need to persecute me for being Catholic because we have some majorly horrible baggage in the pervo-pedophile category. There are plenty of pervs in every other church. Ours is just bigger than yours. Deal with it. Don’t hate- root out your own perverts.
  • When you fuck up- you have to apologize…not only to yourself and God… but to the people you represent. That would be YOUR people. I’m a huge fan of natural consequences and this speaks to the mommy in me…

That said….

I’ve come a long way from the CCD mom, every Sunday sort of Catholic mom I used to be. I always took the kids alone. Their dad hated church. Every once in a while I’d tell him he needed to come with me- because people were starting to think I was single. But every time I took him? He ruined it for me. I’m sensitive when it comes to my faith. I was raised by fairly agnostic/Buddhist parents and I’m extremely uncomfortable when someone wants to question me. He teased me about it… and if he didn’t go I could just fake it… and nobody questioned me.

I’m fairly certain a lot most of it is bullshit… because that’s how I was raised. It’s hard to buy the strange stuff when your parents have been cut and dried about reality and how things actually & really happen in life. I don’t buy the fire & brimstone- and I don’t believe for a second any good person is going anywhere horribly simply because they aren’t Catholic. I love the idea of it… but not the judgmental nonsense.

My son was born with a rare eye condition and I had nothing but painful reality to fall back on. God’s plan wasn’t something I had any idea about. I was just bitter and angry that I’d done everything right. I’d eaten healthy fresh food- hadn’t smoked or drank, etc. Plenty of sleep, etc. I was 18… and so blissfully happy. I never gave it a second thought. I knew he was meant to be from the moment I knew he existed.

I had a half dozen friends who’d drank, smoked, used a wild variety of drugs… and all their babies could see perfectly.

My beautiful little baby boy would never fly an airplane… never be an umpire… and… as they told me at the first specialist visit… he’d never ride a bike.

Life was just devastating at that point… and I was so young. It was the first time I was upset with my parents for not taking us to church, or at least giving us something to fall back on when life seemed to be too much to handle alone.

10 years ago…my Grandma had some health troubles and asked me to take the kids to church… and I agreed. She didn’t care which. So poor  Alex & I went to all of them… and the stories could sell a book. Don’t even get me started on the “Slain in the spirit” people. ..Growing up as an atheist…then being exposed to holy Roller baptists is like running with the bulls. The first time I saw someone speak in tongues I thought I was maybe on Candid Camera. I had to bite my cheeks to keep from laughing and literally prayed to God & everyone that’s Holy to help me find some way to keep from laughing… I had to hold my breath and think about horrible things to keep from laughing uncontrollably. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen in my WHOLE life.

We went to the Catholic church… and they just welcomed us. Nobody questioned why we were there. Nobody wanted to confront our faith. I fell in love. (shocker… lol) I had just found out I was pregnant with my second baby. I was totally and completely high on life. Praying for a girl. I planted the gardens at the church with quite a few pink flowers even… lol 🙂

Being pregnant at midnight Mass is truly phenomenal. Just imagine… you happen to be you’re very own version of the Virgin Mary… and at Christmas with the nativity…  If I had to pick one moment in my life that defined how incredibly happy a moment could be… it was sitting in midnight mass- 6 months pregnant with the daughter I wanted so badly… watching my favorite priest carry the baby Jesus in his arms up to the manger. She was rolling and kicking… I was sitting next to Janice- my favorite Catholic girlfriend, with her hand on my tummy, tears in her eyes cause I’d just told her it was a girl- and I can’t remember a moment in my life that I’ve ever been happier. Everything I ever wanted… right there in my life. My darling son being a perfect child in church, sitting on Janice’s lap.

When it comes to confession… I’m fucking terrified. Plus I think if you’re going to actually do it- be honest… but my shit requires writing to the Bishop for forgiveness…. and honestly? I don’t feel bad. I don’t feel guilty…

At least not enough to rock the world of my favorite priest- who happens to really like me…

Though I’m super tempted to wear knee socks & pig tails tomorrow…

🙂

Categories: Love

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