The Journey to Spirit #6: A Catholic Trip

Off we went to the mainland. I have always loved change, so I soon moved on to other things in the big city, not the least of which was my first boyfriend. The guys we hung around with were all Catholic. This would be my first introduction to organized religion. Could I have imagined the depth of its meaning?

Come to think of it, I’m sorry to say Dennis was the one and only good guy I would ever meet. He had no fancy imaginings about taking advantage and he treated me with kindness and respect. I recall it was a very magical time: first dance, first kiss, first love.

Mom would invite the gang over nearly every weekend, and we’d take up the rumpus room, spin the vinyl, dance and talk and basically hang. Mom was very popular because she served snacks and ran us around town to various places like the skating rink and the pool and pretty much whenever we wanted to go. Little did I know then that when we were within shouting distance of Mom, it meant we were all safe. It wasn’t that she wanted to be a taxi service or sitter, but rather to keep an eye on the gang. She was pretty cool.

There were usually eight of us, or on the odd occasion a few more would catch up. We went roller skating, ice skating, played touch football in the snow, learned how to dance and yes, we even went to church. Our guy friends were all Catholic, attended the Catholic Boy’s school, and church was a big part of who they were. Not all the girls were so inclined however, except one, and I was only curious. Mom never talked about church, and Dad always said, “I don’t have to go to church to pray to God.”

So Dennis took me to church, to Catholic Church, and it was like entering a sacred hallowed hall of ritual, ceremony and Latin. I remember having the feeling that this was definitely a special place, even if I couldn’t understand a word they were saying. I remember the incense of the candles and how they twinkled away in the corner like a bank of angels dressed in a red glow. It felt very reverent to light one in silence and reflection. Sometimes I even visited the church on my own to do just that but somehow I didn’t feel right about it, as if I was cheating or pretending. Being Catholic, after all, was a special club, right?

One snowy December, I decided I would go to Midnight Mass. I dressed up in my aunt’s fur coat with high-top boots and walked with Dennis to the Church in quiet solitude and reflection. The evening was magical. The snow was crisp under foot and it sparkled like a billion diamonds in the street lights. The silence created as the flakes fell around me was mesmerizing and comforting. In my heart there fell a silent and sacred prayer for peace on earth and good will to men. Something inside of me began to smolder; something had touched me deeply.

I was way too analytical to believe in God just because someone said I should however. I asked questions of the nuns whenever I got the chance, and I started trying to read the Bible. The depth of what stirred inside even made me wonder if I should become a nun. And then I wondered if it would even be possible because weren’t Catholics special?

Over the years I attended a number of churches to fill that empty little space inside of me. I would always come up with questions the clergy didn’t seem to want to answer. And more often than not their answers never made any sense anyway. There was something sort of patronizing about them… almost as if they made the answers up. Something didn’t resonate like I thought it should.

Over the next fifteen years, I tried United, Presbyterian, Baptist, and Pentecostal, and still didn’t find anything that would satisfy that inner longing. Again, in all these locations, I found lots of really nice people but how come I didn’t feel God? How come the church ministers were the only ones who seemed to be connected to Him? How come I wasn’t experiencing that too?

One day, during one of my Miracles, I would find out.

….to be continued.

Photo Credits

Cross – by belchonock @ 123rf Stock Photos

Snow – by Gino Santa Maria @ 123rf Stock Photos

Hands Praying – by Hannu Vitanen @ 123rf Stock Photos

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