The Baptism of the Lord

...instead of feeling guilty that I am not going to church with my kids and husband, maybe I could take a moment to relish the quiet emptiness of my house.  The sound of the birds.  The feel of the black leather bound copy of the Liturgy of the Hours in my hands.  The gentle gnaw of hunger in my stomach, reminding me that I am fasting in preparation for the most Holy of Holy things... Communion with my sweet Friend.

Maybe for just today, instead of pangs of guilt, I can accept the silence of my house as a gift from my Father, who wants all good things for me.  Who has given me the gift of his Church.  Who has invited me to step into his waiting arms and cherish with him the Mass... that taste of Heaven on earth.

Today is the Feast of the Lord's Baptism.  It is a day for me to reflect on the beauty of baptism.  As the readings this week have said, because Jesus once stood in a river in Palestine, now and forever, ALL water is Holy.  The Jordan flows to the sea, the water evaporates and falls as rain.  Nothing will ever be the same.

 'Except a man be born again of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God' [John 3:5]

A Good Christian

Recently a Christian acquaintance made a distinction between a Catholic and an Evangelical, stating that the Evangelical is a 'good' Christian and clearly implying that the Catholic is not.  (She wasn't aware of my conversion.)

I did not respond except to laugh and say that I suspected there is no such thing as a 'good' Christian.  We all are mediocre at best.  We strive to live lives that reflect Jesus.  We stumble.  Regularly.  And I think if anyone thinks they fall into the category of a 'good' anything, they are probably in for a rude awakening.  Even Jesus himself said "Why do you call me good?  Only the Father is good."  (Luke 18:19)

I was hurt by her comments.  I find it painful when people say such things about the Catholic faith.  But I did not feel a sense of fear, which has been my response in the past.  Fear of what, I am not sure.  That I won't be loved anymore when they learn the truth?  That it will cause harm to the ministry I run?  That volunteers, donors, friends will run in the other direction and pull their support because they think I am now unqualified to run the place?

Maybe I still harbor fears around all of that, to some degree.  But the other day, all I felt was hurt, plain and simple.

Epiphany

My priest chose Epiphany to share he is retiring in 6 months due to health reasons.  He told me yesterday after I made confession. To be honest, I was a little bit at a loss for words.  I said something about praying for him and gave him a quick hug.  Oddly, I wished him a happy new year.  Perhaps it doesn't feel particularly happy.

This morning, our associate priest joined Fr. as the celebrant.  I understood immediately that this was a way to reassure the congregation that all will be ok.  Fr. shared about his retirement and health concerns as part of a beautiful homily on the light that Christ brings into the world... and how Jesus is with us despite life's difficulties.  I wept through the whole thing.  Once the announcement was made, I could hear others sniffling and blowing noses.  This is a parish that LOVES their priest.  During the peace, many around me were in tears.

I have learned in my life that brevity in a relationship is not necessarily relevant to it's intensity.  In this last year, I have been deeply touched by the pastoral care and guidance I have received from Fr.  both in and out of the confessional.  We met weekly for some months leading up to my confirmation.  He has been a gentle teacher.  In just the last few months, he confirmed me, officiated my church wedding with Nguyen, heard my confessions and taught me how to use the breviary. He was there through all the grueling and painful aspects of my conversion, and for all the joy and wonder, too.  And most of all, he has fed me the body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ.

I am sad that he is leaving the parish, and doubly so for his health situation, but I am sure that his ministry will not be over.  He is a man who has much to give.  In some way, I hope that this retirement will offer him the opportunity to follow his ministerial bliss, so to speak.  I suspect teaching and spiritual direction will figure prominently.  And I trust that we will stay in touch in one way or another.  In the mean time, I will be praying for him.  And thanking God that he invited me into his church shepherded by Fr. Friedrichs.

Listen

I have found, since becoming a Catholic, that folks have a lot of questions about the church.  What is all this with Mary?  I don't understand Purgatory.  I can't get my head around the saints, the Eucharist, the liturgy.

The funny thing is that people rarely ask me to explain these things.  They will give me the list of their objections, but won't invite my perspective.  I never really get a chance to explain how I came to understand Marion doctrine, or Purgatory, or any of it.

Which makes me wonder if they just aren't really that interested in understanding.  I almost never volunteer to explain if I am not asked, mostly because I don't want to seem defensive.  But if we are having coffee and you want to know my opinion on Mary, just ask.  I would be delighted to share.

Wedding Ring Wrangle

While planning to rededicate our marriage, my priest mentioned that he would bless our wedding rings.  I felt a moment of anxiety.  I haven't worn my wedding ring for at least a couple of years, because I am a drummer and I was worried that constantly taking it off to play would make it more likely that I would lose it.

So I went home and started looking for my ring.

Which I couldn't find.

I ransacked my jewelry box, my bureau, all the likely spots where I would have stashed it.  I looked for days.

Finally, I decided that I would need to get a new one.  Nguyen and I went to a Cambodian jewelry store near the Asian market and I picked out a very plain gold band.  Looked fine, felt fine.

Of course, a couple of weeks later, I found my original ring.  But since it was a little less comfortable, I decided to keep wearing the new one.

But then I lost it.  I took it off for drum class and hooked it on my drum.  And forgot to put it back on, so the ring goes missing.  I searched my car, drum bag, the studio where we play, everywhere.  Nowhere to be found.

So, out comes my original ring.  It is a sweet ring... channel set sapphires in a simple gold band.  It fits snugly enough that I can wear it while playing with drum sticks, so I don't even have to take it off for class.

Yesterday, I was playing drums at McAuley House.  My stick bag fell off the chair and dumped my sticks on the floor.  As I was picking it up, I heard a little tinkle sound.  And sure enough, there, on the floor, was my plain gold wedding band.

I decided to put it on my RIGHT hand... so now I have two.

Which in a funny way, seems appropriate.  Nguyen and I were married almost 25 years ago, but it wasn't a Christian wedding.  A month ago, we rededicated our marriage in the Church and in a way, it is like part two of our original wedding.  Two parts of the same, wonderful, event.

So for today I am wearing both rings to remind me of the double blessing of our marriage.

Into the silence 2.0

Last year about this time I went away for a silent retreat and came back a Roman Catholic.  In the silence, I heard God asking me if I was willing to carry the cross.  I heard God calling me to the Catholic faith.  I remember how it felt.  I cried a lot.  I felt joy and terror and peace and Jesus.  It was such a big, sweet, loving, encounter.

Simon of Cyrene was there.  The cloud of witnesses looking on.  The quiet of an empty church and solitude.  I wrote a lot, and read scripture.  I slept for hours at a time.  I walked.

When I got back I was teetering on the edge of radical change and knew it.  And knew it would be hard.  And suspected it would be beautiful.  I was thirsty, so thirsty for deeper connection with Christ.  I longed for him.  It was at once lovely and painful.

I met with a priest and began the unpleasant task of finding a parish.  It was funny that it had never occurred to me that being a Catholic meant finding a new church.  Truly one of my least favorite tasks....  I checked out a few parishes and mostly felt uncomfortable and foreign.  Thankfully, I wound up in a church with a wonderful pastor.  He met with me weekly to prepare for confirmation.  I also met with a couple from the church.  And while the process was hard, it was also clear that it was the right process.

For me, the liturgical year feels more relevant than the calendar one.  Christ the King is coming and I am coming to the close of one of the most eventful years in my spiritual journey.  When I look back, I can hardly believe that in the midst of all the chaos at my work, I was simultaneously undergoing a radical spiritual transformation.  But I believe that the conversion was a gift God gave me to equip me for the work he has planned for me.

This year, as I enter into silence and the rhythm of the Liturgy of the Hours, I pray that I will, once again, seek his will for me.  And rest in his presence.  And praise him.  And love him.  I love Him.

Elizabeth Claire

I have never gotten a straight answer for why you had to die.  I have heard, variously, that you were going to have some sort of birth defect, or that you were going to be a financial burden.  I suspect it was deeper than any of those things.

But I am sure that if you had made it into the world, we would have loved you, regardless of your health or costs.

And though in this life I can never know for sure whether you were a boy or a girl, I always think of you as my sister.

I pray for the day I will see you again.

Prayed up

This past week has been an extremely busy one for me and my team at CareNet.  We were getting ready for our annual banquet and were expecting 560 people.  Always, always, there are dozens of last minute additions, changes, cancellations, and table shifts.  In the midst of all of this frenzy, I need, as the main speaker, to remain in a place of calm, open to the quiet promptings of the Holy Spirit.

It seemed easier this year.

First, we did a great job of organizing.  We had a team of folks who showed up every week to help and a group of people who were dedicated to praying for us every day.

I was extremely intentional about taking time for prayer.  I began to pray the liturgy of the hours the week before and found it to be a God send.  (Literally, of course)  In the midst of the hubbub at work I would slip into one of the private rooms with my ipad and read the prayers for that hour.  Every day I would start the morning with the office and morning prayer.  Every night I would end with Compline.

I went to Mass nearly every day.  After, if it wasn't a work day, I would drive to Oakland beach and park my car, drinking coffee while soaking in the beauty of the day.  I sat in silence, waiting for God to nudge me.  I had a notebook and pencil and would jot ideas as they came to me.  Eventually, these ideas came together to form my address.  And while my team was nervous that on Monday I still didn't have my speech prepared for the event on Thursday, I was in a state of quiet expectation, knowing that God was going to give me the words.

On Tuesday,on the way home from the beach, I stopped at St. Timothy's and sat in the adoration chapel for awhile.  Jesus calmed my soul.

On the night of the banquet, I was very very busy greeting over 500 folks, chatting with pastors and friends and supporters.  I spent hours at the venue, checking on details, working with the AV guys, rearranging the table chart at the last minute to fix a mistake.  It would have been so easy to get stressed or frazzled, especially because some of the folks around me were.

But I felt a sense of complete calm and peace in the midst of all of it.  I knew what God had given me to say.  I had practiced it several times and felt absolutely sure that I could do no better.  Periodically I would duck into a tiny room off the lobby of the venue, shut the door and rest in his presence for a moment or two before heading back out.

And when I walked up to the stage to address the assembled guests, I had no nervousness at all.  I opened my mouth and spoke the words God had given me and let the Holy Spirit take control.  It was a wonderful night and a great experience to be in the midst of his embrace, his will, his love.

Prayer.  No kidding.

I count it joy

I love being a Catholic.  Never have I felt closer to Jesus.  Never have I felt more in tune with God.  I am on the ride of my life in the church that Jesus himself established and it is incredible.  I get to take communion.  I get to sit in adoration.  I get to pray the psalms.  I am standing just inside the door of the body of Christ himself.

I love being a Catholic.

I just needed to say that.

Divine liturgy is, well, Divine.

A friend suggested I pray the daily office.  (If you must know, it was my spiritual director.  About 10 years ago.)

As an Episcopalian, I found it a bit complicated.  I had an Book of Common Prayer, but it didn't actually contain the readings for the office... so you had to look them up in the bible, flipping back and forth.  It was a pain, frankly.  There were versions online that had all the readings, but I just never found reading the office on the computer screen that satisfying.  So, I stuck with the psalms.  In my most impoverished period I was squeaking by with one psalm a day.  Pathetic, I know.

A year ago, I began to thirst.  As a deer longs for the brook, so my soul longed for scripture.  I began to read the bible every day, vaguely following a 'read the bible in a year' schedule.  It broke down to 2  chapters of old testament, 1 psalm, 1 section of proverbs and 1 chapter of the New Testament every day.  I began this in November, so I just started where I was.  Come January, I found myself at the beginning of the bible and have been reading through ever since.  In the summer I finished the New Testament, so at that point I started to read the Deutero Canonical texts instead.

My same spiritual director suggested that maybe this year, I start reading the bible by praying the Divine Office instead.  As Advent is approaching, I thought I would give it a try.  This time, I ordered the books that actually contain the readings.  By now I am a Catholic, so I ordered the Catholic version.  While waiting for them to arrive, I found an app for my phone.  For the last few mornings, I have been reading my 2 chapters of Jeremiah and then moving on to the Daily Office, which is 4 psalm sections and a chapter or so of scripture and then a part of a homily or writing of a saint or some section of one of the councils all tied together with some beautiful prayers.  It is a lot of reading, but it still only takes about 30 minutes or so.

The full liturgy can be as much as 7 times of prayer a day.  I have found myself, over the last couple of days, reading the prayers whenever I have a free moment.  Yesterday, I read the prayers 5 times.  Today it was 3 and I am going to read compline before bed.

I found out that priests in the Roman Catholic Church are required, by canon law, to pray the entire liturgy of the hours every day.  This amazes me, frankly.  Amazes and awes me.  (I find the priesthood pretty awesome, to be honest.)  That means that every parish priest is spending about 2 hours a day in prayer.

As a lay person we are not required to pray the hours, but even just in the last couple of days, I have gotten a tiny taste of what it must be like to order your life around regular prayer.  And the fact that you are praying with every priest, monk and nun on the planet is genuinely humbling.  For me, that this has been going on for over 1000 years just adds to it's power.

I hope that this becomes a regular part of my daily life.

Resources:

http://prayer.rosaryshop.com/discoveringPrayer.pdf

http://www.ibreviary.org/en/

https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/laudate-1-free-catholic-app/id499428207

http://www.ipieta.com/

It's not that bad

At first it was like somebody shoving a knife into my heart. I felt sick in my stomach. I felt anger and pain, sorrow, sadness and rejection. Someone finally withdrew their support from my organization because they believe that the Catholic Church teaches heresy.  Does that make me a heretic, I wonder?  Ah well.  No matter.  While the enemy is having a field day watching christians splinter into ever tinier fragments, I am going to focus on the work at hand. I went to Mass with my beloved husband and let the prayers of the ancient church wash over me.  I am going to try and stop taking it personally and try to accept rejection with grace, letting it unite me closer to my sweet Jesus in his suffering.  Him whom the pharisees rejected is the cornerstone of my life.  I pray for unity, forgiveness and compassion.

The Feast of All Saints

For me, the definition of a saint is one who says YES to God.  My dream and goal is to live a life that is one big yes.

Yes, I will follow you to a river and be washed clean by the Holy Spirit.

Yes, I will embrace the sacramental quality of my marriage and dedicate it to you.  I will say yes to raising my children to be Godly men.

Yes, I will sacrifice all that I am in order to follow you.

Yes, I will try to live a life worthy of you, sweet Friend.  And I will fail.  And I will confess and continue to ask the Holy Spirit to sanctify me despite my brokenness and sin.

Yes I will endure ridicule, disdain and even hatred in your name and the name of your blessed church.  I will say yes to rejection. I will trust you.  I will love you.  And when I falter, I will crawl back to you on my knees and beg the Holy Spirit to fill me with the courage and fortitude that is not mine, but yours.

I thank you, sweet Jesus, for all the saints you have put in my life.  My husband.  My sons. My spiritual director.  My beautiful and Godly co-workers.  My priest.  Thank you for all you have done for me through them.  Thank you for their patience and ministry and love.  May you bless them abundantly in this life and the next.

Sweet Friend, you have asked for so little and given me so much.

Today I say YES.

Conversion of heart

Dear Jesus,

I can't imagine why anyone wouldn't want to be Catholic.

Since my conversion, I have been through trials.  But lately the blessings have been far outweighing the trials.  I thank you, God, for that. 

My marriage has been the best it has ever been.  You have been doing incredible things for us.  I am grateful, Lord, for this unexpected blessing.

My heart has been opening to your heart.  The other day I was angry at someone who wrote very bad things about my organization in his blog when suddenly, my heart was filled with sadness for him.  True sadness.  I actually began to weep and have been praying for him ever since.  Lord, that is not of me.  That was you giving me the grace to see this man as you see him.  It was a moment of clarity that has been with me ever since.

The Eucharist.  Oh, Jesus, I can't even begin to talk about what this has been for me.  Even in the few short weeks since my confirmation, the Eucharist has become the food of my soul.  I long for it every day.  On days when I don't take communion, I feel like I am incomplete.  It was the Eucharist that drew me to your church, but I had no idea, of course, what it would be like to be able to participate in it... ancient and ever new.  Beautiful.  Enlivening.  Full of your Grace and love.  Oh, Love.  How did I live without you for so long?

I am a child.  After 10 years of being a Christian, I thought I understood you, at least a little.  But after coming into your Church, I recognize that your vastness is beyond my littleness to grasp.  I understand nothing.  I know nothing.  My soul is tiny and my heart longs for you, only.  What joy there is in this.  

Your Church is full of Grace.  It was been said of your Church that the walls around it are high, but once you are inside, it is a wonderland.  I am only just beginning to catch a glimpse of the truth of this.  I wonder why the journey was so long.  Why I had so much fear.  Why I stood at the gate and looked in.  But now I am here, in the heart of your Church, and am so full of joy and peace and GRACE.  Thank you, sweet Jesus, for inviting me in.  Thank you for telling me to trust you, even when I was gripped with fear.  Thank you that you have given me the courage to walk through the narrow gate into the heart of your love.

Daily Mass

I'll admit that since summer began, I have been finding it a little bit more challenging to get myself motivated to get to Mass in the mornings.  I am embarrassed by this.  I am going to see Jesus.  I should be getting up at the crack of dawn in anticipation every day.

But I am mostly hitting the snooze button and dragging myself out of bed after a night of not enough sleep.

Today was no different.  But as I pulled up to the church, I prayed that I would be open to what God had for me.  And from the moment I walked in to the church, I felt the power of the Holy Spirit.  I sat, mesmerized by the rosary prayers, my head bowed.  All through the liturgy, from the readings to the consecration, it was as if I was experiencing it in exquisite detail.  Each word, each moment heightened somehow.  And then, in the final moments before I stood to walk forward to receive, I saw Jesus standing (as Fr. Friedrichs was standing) breaking the bread at the last supper.  Carefully.  Deliberately. Overflowing with LOVE for us.  I was overcome with awe, humility, joy.  I felt as if I were floating in a dream as I stood to walk with my fellow parishioners to the front of the church.  I was so transported I was almost afraid I would drop the precious blessed sacrament.  But no, I received a thin triangle of the large wafer and said 'amen, Father' as I received it in my hand.

Thank you, Jesus, for this extraordinary gift today.

The nativity of John the Baptist

Yesterday the Church celebrated the nativity of John the Baptist.  This day feels significant to me, since John (and his mother, Elizabeth) are my confirmation saints.

I remember the first time I read the depiction in the Gospel of Luke of the day that the Virgin Mary came to visit her elderly aunt, Elizabeth.  I was sitting in the living room of a friend on Rochambeau Avenue in Providence.  It was late fall.  She had made pumpkin muffins and hot apple cider for a bible study we were holding.  None of the participants were Christians.  They were all from the Unitarian Universalist church I attended at the time.  Only our host, Katherine, professed to be Christian.  If I remember correctly, I wasn't even Christian yet...

We sat together and began reading from Luke.  And there, in the dim light, I began to read of Mary's visit to Elizabeth... and how John leaped in his mother's womb when Mary entered the room.  And somehow, inexplicably, I began to cry.  Great, huge tears rolled down my cheeks for no reason at all, except that maybe, in that moment, I too was recognizing the truth of Jesus and who he was.  Mary, at 3 months along, wasn't even showing yet.

Scripture says nothing of whether Elizabeth knew that Mary was pregnant.  For all she knew, her younger cousin was simply showing up to help her older aunt through the last few months of pregnancy.  And yet the moment Mary walks in the door, Elizabeth and the baby John in her womb, know exactly who she is carrying inside her.

Scientific American recently published an article about research that shows that when mothers are carrying their babies in the womb, some of the fetus' cells actually cross the placenta and implant in the mother.  Years and even decades later, they have found cells with Y chromosomes in the brains of women who carried male children.  By her third month of pregnancy, Mary already had Christ's cells in her body.  How could she not have been affected by that?  The actual cells of Jesus Christ were already a part of her, and Elizabeth and John, by a miracle of God's grace, knew.

I was a latecomer to Jesus.  I spent the first 38 years of my life in darkness, searching for a light, but not understanding what or WHO that light was.  Finally, at 38, I surrendered and accepted that Jesus is the light of the world.  From that day, my life has been totally different.

So maybe, on that dark, cold night in December, with pumpkin muffins and hot cider, I was yearning for what John and Elizabeth had.  Jesus was in their midst, as he is for all of us.  And they recognized him for who he is.  And leaped for joy.

The Body of Christ, The Bride of Christ

In 1 Corinthians, St. Paul says that the Church is the body of Christ.  Christ acts in the world through the members of the body.

I never understood this until becoming a Catholic.  But now, I am beginning to feel a sense of Christ's presence in a way I never have before.  

It isn't that I haven't felt his presence before.  Jesus has been an almost constant companion since before my baptism 10 years ago.  I have felt the Holy Spirit in many churches, many venues, many situations.

But this is something completely different.  I suspect it all hinges on the Eucharist, but I am not really sure about that.  What I have been feeling for the last couple of days is a kind of quiet conviction that Christ in the Church is living out the incarnation in an extraordinary way.  It is a deeply trinitarian reality that Jesus is alive in the world through his Church.  

From the outside of the faith, it would be hard, if not impossible, to perceive this.  Go to a normal Mass and you might find a bunch of lukewarm Christians going through the motions.  There are scandals and brokenness, corruption and power.  From the outside, it doesn't seem possible that Christ is truly inhabiting the Catholic Church.  But I am more and more convinced that Christ is in the world through His Church... and that in this broken mess, he is present in a very real way.  A unique way.  

There is no real explanation for why I have come to believe this.  I haven't read about it in a book.  It isn't being preached at Mass.  It is just a sense that there is present, in the Church, the second person of the Trinity, living and breathing, present.  Really Present.  The body, blood, soul and divinity of Our Lord.

Disciples of all nations

As I was driving home from Mass today, I was pondering the purpose of the church.  What did Jesus ask his apostles to do?

This is what he said to his apostles, who went on to become the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church:

Jesus came and said to them, "...Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age."  Matthew 28:18-20

For me, discipleship is about a relationship.  Jesus is asking his apostles to help people become students of Jesus, practitioners of his ways.  Disciple and discipline are from the same root. Both speak of learning, of practice.  The Catholic Religious might call it a 'rule of life' that centers on the relationship with Christ.  There is rhythm to it.  Just as a student at a university has to show up for class in order to learn anything, so a disciple of Christ has to spiritually 'show up'.  In my case, that means reading scripture every day, attending Mass, daily prayer.  For me, discipleship is only possible by being in deep relationship with him.  Jesus promises that for his disciples, he will be with them until the end of the age.  And so far, I am finding that sacraments, the liturgy, the rhythms of the church seasons have indeed been deepening my love for him, strengthening my relationship with him and giving me the discipline of keeping him first and foremost in my day to day life.  All of this is by his Grace alone.  He promises he is with us, and that is HOW we are going to be disciples and make disciples of all nations.  

Why I am a Catholic Pt. 1

About 3 weeks after joining the Catholic Church, someone asked if my journey thus far was filled with grace.  At that point, I had to answer, frankly, no.  It was instead, filled with much anxiety, some fear, some sadness.  I was coming face to face with the reality that many people have huge antipathy for the church.  People that I care about were reacting badly.  I was being challenged and grilled.  There were some who simply could not conceive that God would lead me to the Catholic faith.

I cannot pretend to know God.  But I have spent the last 10 years earnestly seeking to do his will.  That desire has led me to places I would never have ventured if I was following my own will.  I stayed at Grace Church because God called me there.  I began working for CareNet because I discerned that God was asking me to.  Frankly, I have stayed at CareNet because of that, too.  And I stayed at Grace for 8 years because that is where I felt God wanted me to be.

Until it wasn't.

Until one day I sensed that something profound had changed.  I sat in a dark church in Weston, MA and felt the presence of Christ in deep and real way and realized that he WAS present in the Blessed Sacrament behind the altar.  And I heard, deep in my heart, the words that have changed my life so profoundly.

It is true.

And suddenly I was flooded with a profound sense that this moment was going to be a demarcation point for my life.  This moment was the one I was converted.  This moment, I was going to remember forever as the one in which I accepted not just Jesus... but the church HE established.  The church through which he works in the world.

It is true.

And as those words resonated in my heart, I understood that if the Blessed Sacrament is true, then so is everything else the Church says about herself.

The moment of conversion took place in the dark church.  Actually living it out will take a lifetime.  I am finding that Catholicism is deeply challenging and more joyful than I could ever have imagined.  It is HUGE.  Polarizing.  Yet encompasses profound polarities.  I am utterly alone in the walk, yet part of something that has spanned centuries and actively involves billions of souls, living and dead.  It is rigorous and challenging, demanding much and giving everything.  It is a rhythm of life that opens me up to something so vast, so profound, so beautiful I can only grasp a tiny bit.  Yet it is like the entirety of the church exists in the Eucharist at St. Catherine's Church on a Tuesday morning.  That sweet, simple, spare event that transcends time and place... 25 folks who worship together and participate in something so grand, so massive it is impossible to conceive of it.

I am Catholic because I am a Christian who seeks to follow Jesus.

Love Fest

Yesterday I went to a meeting at which most of the people were Catholics.  Some knew of my recent conversion and were very encouraging.  A co-worker from many years ago was there.  She was a nun in a former life and is still active in the church.  She remembers me when I was unmarried, wore a stud in my nose and had no use for religion whatsoever.  Though even then I was fascinated with people who led religious lives, especially nuns and monks. 

I leaned over at one point and whispered into her ear.... C, I was confirmed in the Catholic Church last month.

She was amazed, of course.  And happy.  And when she found out who my priest is, she confided that she thought he was wonderful and that I was very lucky that God brought me to his parish.  (I couldn't agree more....)

It was wonderful to be surrounded by Catholics.  But even so, I have to confess, I have found a certain amount of isolation in this journey.  Lifelong Catholics love their faith, but don't really understand the conversion experience.  And non-Catholics can't even begin to know what this is like.  The fear and doubt which is slowly giving way to a level of joy I can't even begin to describe.  Tears may be the only way to express it, frankly.

Every day I wake up thanking God that I am a member of His Church. Every day.

Wednesdays

At my little parish, Wednesdays are our priest's day off.  Well deserved, of course.  He works the other 6 days a week, so I can hardly begrudge him the time away.

For me, though, this creates a little dilemma.  Most Wednesdays, sleeping late wins.  It is the day I start work at 12:00, so it is a luxurious morning of doing nothing.  On those weeks, it is usually the only day during the week when I am not in church.

Some days, though, I get up and head to another local parish for Mass.  There is a church right down the street with Mass at 9.

In either case, I start the day with scripture and prayer, reflecting on the Grace that God has given me.  Thank you, Jesus.  Thank you.