7QT: Seven Quick Takes (Volume I)

It's funny, I consider myself a bit of a "writer" on the side of my "real" life...and yet, I haven't written anything in FOREVER.  I decided to challenge myself with the 7QT this week, since I read everyone else's all the time, and it would be a good link up to get me to write...something.

1)  Happy feast of Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta! 

If there ever were a saint among us, I feel sure we could say Mother Teresa was one.  (Although I remember my anti-Catholic parents lamenting that she wasn't a "real Christian" when she died...more on that another time.)  But, Mother Teresa was able to show the world, in great clarity and simplicity, who God is and what love does.  I've referenced her tiny living quarters in this post, but I continue to marvel that tiny little Teresa of Calcutta was able to change the world with such simplicity.  It seems that everything passed through her hands.  She didn't hold on to anything, she used it all for God, and she used it all the way up.

2)  T-G-I-F

It was only a 4 day work week, but heck if it didn't feel like double that.  I had such an awesome Labor Day weekend that maybe it made the rest of the week that much harder.

3)  Goin' to the chapel and we're...gonna get married

That's right...the countdown is on.  THIS is wedding month for me!!!  God help us and bless us!!  There's so much to do, so little time, no money left, and yet, I'm so excited!!

4)  I'm off the wagon (or is it on the wagon?) again with coffee 

I quit coffee about a year ago, cold turkey.  I just knew I needed to.  I had had about a 7 year love affair with the stuff, but something inside me told me that it was time to quit.  I did, and never felt better.  However, sometime again this summer, I picked it up again.  First, it was just at work...sometimes.  Then, I bought some for home because I was having company.  Then, I had to finish what I bought, of course, after the company left.  Well, it turns out that the caffeine still wreaks havoc on my system.  After about a month or two of steadily increasing coffee use, I also had increased anxiety, panic attacks, and insomnia.  Yes, all of those things could also be explained by the impending nuptials, financial concerns, family drama, etc., but the coffee sure didn't help.  So, I quit again.  Day 2.  Already feeling much MUCH better.  (Why can't I just remember that?!)

5)  I need friends

I'm relatively new to this city, been here about 1.5 years.  And, although the last several months have been a major focus upon wedding plans, I know when that all dies down, I will eventually need some friends to hang out with. I had made one really great new friend, and she moved a few weeks ago.  I feel like I haven't lived here long enough to have people moving away already, but it's time to put myself out there and try to get some new friends.  I'm really bad at that, as an introvert.  However, even though I like being alone, I still want and need friends.  I feel like I see the same people over and over (work, gym, other routines), and that it's hard to meet new people at this phase in my life.  So far, a new friendship hasn't presented itself, but I'm praying for just one new friend to take her place.  Although I consider my fiance to be my "best friend," I also firmly believe that we need other couples as friends, and that I need some girlfriends, and he needs some guy-friends to keep us all happy.  As a Catholic who is about to start practicing NFP, it would be great to have people that understood our "lifestyle," if you will.  I should just pray about it.  The friend that moved was a great, unexpected gift.  If God could give me her, then surely he could give me someone else.         

6)  It's the end of the world as we know it

...and I (don't) feel fine.  On a more serious note, it seems as if there is so much going on in our world.  Beheadings, torture, black masses, war...  I know to some extent, these things never stop, but it is SO sobering to me that when I stand up to say the Creed at church every Sunday, my brothers and sisters in Christ across the globe could be killed for doing the same thing.  Why was I born here, and they were born there?  It's not fair.  Why do those of us with freedom (religious or otherwise) sometimes take it SO for granted?  Where is the mass media on reporting this????  It seems like awareness is growing, especially after two American journalists were killed (may they rest in peace), but sometimes I feel like the world is coming to a crash around us, the enemy is gaining a foothold, and NO ONE notices.  We are busy scrutinizing the fashion choices of celebrities, or criticizing what seem to be TRIVIAL concerns of our local and national politics, when considering what is going on with the rest of the world.  Do we not notice the TRUE evil that is staring us in the face?  I hate the navel-gazing media style found in America of late, and it really concerns me that we are so unaware and (so far) unresponsive to this massive problem.  

7)  N-F-P

If you'd have told me 5 or 10 years ago that I'd be an NFP-using Catholic, I would have rolled my eyes, laughed, and told you the oldest joke in the book about NFP.  ("You know what they call people that use that method, right?  Parents.")  Anyway, I have learned a lot, and come a long way, not only in my understanding, but in my obedience to church teaching (thanks be to God, and more on that journey another time).  However, I get married later this month, and I can already say with full confidence that I may have a love/hate relationship with NFP.  First of all, not all of us are such textbook people that these methods are just easy-peasy.  I showed my charts to our NFP teacher (who is also a nurse), and even she couldn't decipher them.  I learned one method in class, then self-taught myself another method, and even with two methods sort of going at the same time, I feel like an idiot.  I feel frustrated.  I can't always decipher the signs.  I am not looking forward to days and days of abstinence simply because I don't KNOW what's going on, and yet, I know that all forms of love require sacrifice.  It's funny, I could talk to someone about the evils of contraception and how harmful I think it is to women and true feminism until I'm blue in the face.  However, when it comes to me and my body and NFP, it ain't easy.  I want to learn this stuff so well that I could teach it.  In theory, the theology and the application are BEAUTIFUL.  I really mean that.  And yet, learning it and applying it or understanding it as it applies to you and your body...well, that's a different story.  I want to find some couples who could be our friends who also practice NFP, but how exactly do you strike up THAT conversation?  And, we took our class at a parish different from our own (not offered at ours)...  Anyway, I digress.  I love NFP.  I thank God that I learned this stuff in Church!!  It's awesome!!  And yet, I kinda hate NFP.  It requires me to self-sacrifice.  It can be confusing.  It's embarrassing to talk about (sorry, it is).    

Healing

With a wedding coming up, and regular life going on, it seems the panic attacks and anxiety are back with a vengeance.  "Pride cometh before a fall..." because I thought I was just doing so great and coping so well.  I was putting all my tools to use - deep breathing, prayers, sleep, exercise, general positivity.  It was working so great, until it wasn't.  I also haven't been to therapy in a long time...'cuz I've been doing so well!  But, as my fiance pointed out...maybe I had been doing so well because of the therapy.  And at the same time, I don't think my therapist even realizes just *how* messed up I am.  

I just wonder sometimes what it feels like to live in a quiet mind, to live in a "normal" mind. In the past 2 weeks, I've probably had 3 major breakdowns.  Like, pit of despair, full-blown panic attack, screaming and crying breakdowns where I just want it all to end.  I can't even repeat the things I thought and said.  I seriously wonder what is wrong with me at times, and then beat myself up over these reactions, but that's not a good response for someone trying to learn self-love.

So, I dragged myself to church Sunday.  I had a huge fight with my fiance Friday night.  I apologized, and we had a respectful, calm discussion Saturday, but damn if I didn't feel exhausted and beaten down and like a terrible person.

The prayer after communion Sunday (which was actually supposed to be for next week, I think, but our priest read it this week):

Complete within us, O Lord, we pray,
the healing work of your mercy
and graciously perfect and sustain us,
so that in all things we may please you.
Through Christ our Lord.

"The healing work of your mercy..."  Those words cut right through the numbness and pain of an emotional hangover.  God is merciful.  His mercy can heal me.  I started crying at that point in church.  And finally, after several bad weeks in mental health, I felt a moment of peace again.  Mercy is what will heal me, not judgment.

"Complete within us...the healing work of your mercy."

So beautiful.  Bring it on!

What Dreams May Come...

I had a dream that my therapist called and had reviewed my file, and she had some stroke of insight that was going to “explain everything” and basically give me ALL THE ANSWERS.  She called me and wanted to meet (of course, in the dream, it wasn’t actually  my therapist, but a combination of one of my aunts and a lady I know who reminds me of said aunt - neither one look anything like my therapist).  Anyway, I went to meet the therapist to get “all the answers.”  We were in some kind of public building, maybe a large warehouse type store.  And, although we were trying to meet in the usual way (talking, sitting down, facing one another on comfy chairs), we were constantly interrupted by shoppers, friends, passersby, people looking for the restroom, etc.  In fact, I could see my file in her hands with ALL THE ANSWERS, and in the dream, although we managed to sit and chat for a bit, we never got to the ANSWERS part.  And then I woke up.

#YesAllWomen

The violence that erupted at the hands of an angry, entitled individual in California last week is disturbing. We cannot know what caused him to act this way, but the Twitter response #YesAllWomen has been both heartbreaking and important, as it sheds light on the prevalent mentality that men have a right to women's bodies.

And, so I bring you my hash tag here, to the blog, because it was simply too much to choose from before posting to Twitter.

#YesAllWomen because I can name four close friends who were raped, and none of the rapists were held accountable.

#YesAllWomen because in the workplace, a women who is aggressive and business-like is called a b*tch, while her male counterpart is called a leader.

#YesAllWomen because you can be called "too sensitive" for calling out sexual harassment in the workplace and find yourself out of work, while the offender gets promoted.

#YesAllWomen because in my church growing up, I was taught that women were responsible for men's lustful thoughts by not dressing modestly enough.

#YesAllWomen because in my church growing up, a female couldn't so much as read the announcements, since women couldn't have "authority" over men.

#YesAllWomen because it wasn't until I taught a self-defense class in college that I realized what my parents did to me was physical abuse.

#YesAllWomen because to this day, my father believes he is my "authority" because I am unmarried.

#YesAllWomen because birth control pills are a class one carcinogen, and we are fed them like candy by ignorant doctors.

#YesAllWomen because every boss I've ever had has been a white male.

Prayer

I've been reading a lot of books in preparation for marriage (and I read a lot in general), but it occurred to me that as much as I desire a great marriage and worry about things and think about our future married life together, I don't consistently pray for my fiance.

Wait, what?

Yeah, for real.

I realized that I tend to pray when I'm in church, whether for mass or eucharistic adoration.  I tended to go to adoration a LOT more last year before my new workout routine took the place of that on my daily commute this year, and during the rest of the day/week, I tend to pray in desperate moments or occasionally in moments of thanksgiving.  I might offer up a halfhearted Our Father as I drift off to sleep, and I often listen to religious broadcasting (podcasts, radio, etc.), but basically, my prayer life sucks.

I have operated under the assumption that G-d knows my heart, less is more, and that I keep G-d in my mind and heart without having a set schedule/routine of prayer.  I guess I thought it was working for me.  

But, lately, I started to realize that maybe that's not the best way.  I'm not a "spiritual, but not religious" type. I'm spiritual and religious.  I see the value in religion, and I love my Catholic faith.  In other areas of my life, it doesn't work for me to have zero structure.  I have to plan when and how I work out in order to exercise at all.  I have to set an alarm clock to get up and go to work.  I plan each week and put it on my calendar that I will go to mass.  Even my fiance and I set regular date nights and regular "work on the relationship" nights (different from dates).  I plan and cook my meals for the week in advance so I'm encouraged to make healthy choices.  So, why did prayer slip into the nebulous area of self-governance?  Or an internal matter of the heart only?

I think I still have a lot of residual rebellion.  Part of it is my prideful and selfish nature.  Part of it is the inherent rebellion of Protestantism that remains (no offense to Protestants, this is just something I'm still unraveling in my own experience).  I feel like I can take matters into my own hands and be just as well off.  I feel like I can be my own authority and be great.  I feel like my wisdom outweighs the wisdom of 2,000 years of Church wisdom and authority from Christ Himself.  And (news flash), it doesn't compare.

It is important and necessary to have a personal relationship with G-d, but that does not mean a relationship without structure, format, or follow-through.  A relationship of simply good intentions really doesn't do much in the "real world," and I doubt it does much in the spiritual realm either.  I love the liturgy of the Church.  Why am I so reluctant to apply some liturgy/structure/a plan to my own prayer life?

Well, after reading some marriage preparation books and thinking about all this stuff, after surviving yet another mediocre Lenten season, I have become really convicted and aware of how much I do not pray for my fiance.  I have all these hopes, fears, expectations, worries.  They come through my mind as fleeting thoughts or disastrous, panicky thoughts.  I might pray in that moment, but why am I not consistently praying for him?  The Bible talks about "when you pray and fast", not "if you pray and fast..."

So, I really believe the Holy Spirit is revealing to me that I am called to pray for my future husband.  Not in a fleeting, passing, mediocre way, but in an intentional, consistent way.  In fact, I need to fast and pray for our marriage, and for other needs of the world and my family.  The more I realize the self-sacrificing love that marriage requires of me and my fiance, I am convinced that is the life I am called to, but I am also terrified.  When I see threats to our relationship, whether internal or external, I realize that I could have done more on my part to pray for him and us, not just put out a fire as it happens or become overtaken with anxiety.  I know that prayer isn't a magic fix for everything, but I do believe it works.  It is powerful.  It involves G-d, not just me.  And at the very least, I can die a little bit to myself as I pray for these intentions.

So, I may have been Catholic now for eight years, but I'm just now figuring out that maybe I need to pray in a more Catholic way.  I've got a prayer book, and I may buy a Liturgy of the Hours book (we will see how well this goes first before I take that leap).  But each day, I'm going to say prayers - written prayers by others, or reading the Bible in the form of Psalms or Proverbs as prayer.  I'm going to say prayers in the morning and at night.  I'm going to mention my needs, intentions, and requests by name, and I'm going to fast each week for our marriage.  Fridays, perhaps?

I am excited about this because I know it's the right thing to do.  I'm also a little worried that I'm behind.  Why didn't I think of this already?  Why haven't I been doing this since before we even dated, or since we got engaged?  I'm too selfish to do this on my own.  It's taken years for G-d to make me aware of this area of neglect.  I want to be a supportive wife, and one way I can do this is try pray, pray, pray for my husband and marriage.  (And other needs.)

It's been a journey with G-d.  While I've been Catholic now for about eight years, it wasn't until I began going to the sacrament of reconciliation consistently and also until I stopped committing mortal sin consistently that I have finally heard G-d's voice in my life and grown deeper and deeper.  I still have a long way to go, but staying close to G-d in the sacraments has finally gotten through to me.  Confession is powerful.  It has brought more grace to me than anything.  Once I got honest and agreed with G-d about what is wrong and what is right, doing the right thing became so much easier because I had the grace to do it and I had confessed my sins.  More on that another time.

Pray on!

The Benefits of Fundamentalism – Part I

Just writing the title of this post is enough to make me twitch a little bit.  Benefits, you say?  Benefits of THAT?  That which I have been through and lived to tell the tale?  Yes.  Benefits.

You see, it wasn’t just fundamentalism I grew up with, it was Calvinism, fundamentalism, abuse, being a pastor’s kid, and, as my therapist has helped me recently see, mental illness.  If all of that sounds overwhelming and toxic, believe me, it was.  It has taken decades to get to the point of untangling the web of exactly what we were dealing with.  However, there are some things that happen to me, and I think, if it weren’t for my background, I couldn’t have done that.  Yes, there are some benefits to fundamentalism.  Here they are, in no particular order, and with caveats thrown in for good measure:

1) The ability to put with discomfort, pain, awkwardness, etc. for FAR too long.  (Caveat – this is not always a benefit.  This ability has also allowed me to put up with abusive relationships or inappropriate situations because that was “normal” to my messed-up mind.)  However, all things being equal, I am able to live in uncomfortable circumstances and just DEAL.  Just deal with it, live with it, function as if nothing is wrong.  This is not some valiant self-sacrificing/taking up your cross type of martyrdom, this is just a leftover coping mechanism to the sh*tstorm that constantly swirled as a child.  Ignoring, carrying on, and enduring whatever pain may come was basically the only choice I had.  Now days, I can take a shot like a champ, I can endure pain without medication far longer than I actually should, I can power through a situation and do without certain luxuries, and I can ignore huge giant red flags and warning signs and carry on as if it were the best of times.  Again, this is not necessarily healthy, but every now and then, you *do* have to pick yourself up by the bootstraps and just get through something.  Fundamentalism helped me do that, a little too well.    

2) The ability to talk to a huge variety of people.  Our church was a magnet for freaks and geeks, no offense to those in attendance (myself included).  We took pride in not being “mainstream” because, of course, none of those “mainstream” churches had the real truth.  They were just Baptists, Methodists, etc. going through the motions of their man-made traditions each Sunday.  They probably weren’t “real Christians,” didn’t know or read the Bible.  They probably just went there because their parents or grandparents went there, or because it was the closest church to their house.  Not out of conviction, like us.  And don’t even get me started on those Catholics.  Anyway, so when your church is the “frozen chosen,” “all white and uptight” community of “true believers” (lots of “ “, sorry), and you believe that you are the ONLY way, you tend to attract those on the fringes of society or rejected by the same mainstream that you reject – single parents, recovering addicts, the extremely poor, socially awkward, conspiracy theorist types – who are looking for a place to belong, who are looking for something to latch onto.  There is nothing wrong with ANY of those labels I just listed.  In fact, I hate to even define them.  Christ draws (and His Church should draw) all these people to himself.  But, when the Savior and the Church you’re seeking for healing just gets you stuck in a different way that the wounds that got you there, that’s not true freedom.  In my opinion, that’s what our fundamentalism did for these people – a whole lot of nothing.  Anyway, all that to say, Sundays (or any time we were in church) were a time in which we were forced to speak to these awkward people with very different experiences than our own.  There were very few kids our age.  (The ones that were there eventually left due to wanting a youth group or to minute doctrinal squabbles between the church and their parents).  There were very few people that were highly educated.  We had to speak with adults in complete sentences, we learned not to bat an eye at people’s weird quirks or whatever may be brought up in conversation.  We learned that these same interesting individuals may even be sharing the feast with us at the next major holiday, so it’s best to pretend that everything is great and normal.  Now, by nature, I’m an extreme introvert.  But, growing up, I was forced to make conversation with all types of people, mostly adults.  As much as I *hated* it at the time, I’m able now to try to relate to almost anyone I meet.  I’m not saying I’m great at it.  Small talk is still against my nature, but I have learned over the years that others are sometimes just as uncomfortable, and it’s usually best to try to make them feel welcome without forced conversation or prying, but with a few statements that reach out to them.  I also get annoyed at other introverts who can't get over themselves or come out of the damn shell for just one moment and make conversation.  So, overall, fundamentalism for the win.  I learned to relate to freaks and geeks.

3)  The show must go on.  10,000 caveats again.  When you’re dealing with parents for whom outward appearances are everything, this gets really out of whack really fast.  Now, I went into a career in the performing arts for a while, and this is the cardinal rule of performing.  The show must go on.  So, anything from a little rain on your commute to the electricity going out in the middle of a show, or any number of disasters on stage or in real life, always remember, the show must go on - preferably with a smile as if nothing phased you.  This is closely related to #1.  Deal with it, no complaining, and act like nothing’s wrong.  Now, again, this is not always healthy.  It can lead to making you callous or cold to the sufferings of others.  It can put you in dangerous situations because you think you *have* to get to work, regardless of the risks or that you *have* to finish X, Y, Z tasks regardless of the toll they might take on your health.  It can make you not take concerns, pains, or hardships seriously and not listen to yourself or your instincts.  But, every now and then, that ability to carry on comes in handy, just take it with a giant boulder of salt.  

So, I've come up with three potential benefits of fundamentalism.  I'm sure there are more, and I'm sure these things are just as much a warning about fundamentalism as they are a benefit of fundamentalism.  In my effort to see my childhood with honesty - I am listing the good along with the bad.  Lord knows I've analyzed and rehearsed the bad in my mind for YEARS.  I also need to see that there were some benefits.  

Weary

"Happy" "Good" Friday...

Rather than launch into an explanation of why it is called "good" Friday, let me just express my weariness this year.  I have limped along to this day.  I dread Lent, each year.  And each year, I struggle with giving something up without beating myself up.  This year, I could not decide what to do, so I went with a "gentle Lent," and decided to take stuff on.  I decided to go to confession several times, to participate in stations of the cross, and to go to daily mass (not daily, but to aim for once a week), to give up meat on Fridays, to try to love.  I thought I could overcome my negative feelings toward Lent and to understand a balanced self-love of discipline.  It didn't take too well.  Lent still feels foreign to me, raised as a fundamental Protestant with none of that "ritual" stuff.

So, 40 days later, I was talking to my fiance last week, and I couldn't even remember what I had "given up" for Lent.  I was like, "Did I ever decide?"  Somewhere in the middle there, I had gotten sick twice.  First with strep throat, then with the stomach flu.  Between regular life, travel for work one week, getting sick, etc. it slipped my mind that I had made this "gentle Lent" resolution of taking stuff ON.  Then, I remembered, "oh yeah, I was also going to give up all negativity in speech, both toward myself and others."  Fail on both counts of giving stuff up and taking stuff on.  Whoops.  

So, here I am, on this "good" Friday.  I am worn out.  Physically, emotionally, spiritually.  Once again, I'm not a very good Catholic.  I didn't really do Lent that well this year, it wasn't a drastic difference from years before, and I didn't overcome my general negativity toward Lent.  I made it to Stations of the Cross three times, I think.  I enjoyed it, and maybe will do it again next year.  (As a convert for 8 years, this is somehow the first time I've ever done the Stations of the Cross.)  As for confession, I made it once this Lent.  I didn't go any more than that, and I basically went to fulfill my earlier birthday resolution of trying to go once a month this year.  (I'm probably actually behind now on going to confession, as I think I went to confession in March and have yet to go in April).  But, my soul feels clean and excited for Easter.  As for daily mass, I went once.  And, no, I didn't make it to 6 AM mass before work.  I made it to 6 PM mass once in 40 days, and just BARELY because of traffic.  Also, I did manage to skip meat on Fridays a few times, but I also managed to eat it a few times.  (It's also a foreign practice to me that has yet to take root.)  So, all that to say Baby Steps.  Really small Baby Steps.

I am weary of myself.  I am weary of the selfishness, the lack of discipline, the nagging sense of not following through or doing enough.  I'm weary of my own sin, my own restlessness, my indifference.  I am also weary of other Christians this year.  More so than normal.  It has been a particularly ugly Lent.  With a big scandal in the Protestant/Evangelical world about World Vision allowing married gay employees, then immediately disallowing married gay employees, 10,000 children lost Christian sponsors worldwide in this fight.  Christians tore into one another on both sides of the issue, pointing fingers, calling names, mutually ex-communicating one another over this.  While part of me is glad not to be in this camp anymore ("not my problem/this is why I'm Catholic"), I realize that it is my problem too, even if I don't want it to be, even if I don't identify with these groups as a Protestant Evangelical.  All Christians are in this together and to the world, we are epically failing.  We are not one.  We do not love one another.  I remember in 2003 when the scandals broke about priests abusing children (in Boston, I think, first), our Protestant chaplain talked about this with remorse.  He didn't gloat at the sins of "those Catholics," he owned it.  He explained that we are all in this together - for better or for worse - we have to deal with these sins too.  Those words made an impact on me.  I was Protestant, but a Catholic sympathizer at the time.  I appreciate his standpoint, and I remember it in moments like these.  

As a Protestant, I liked the diversity found in many denominations.  I saw it as brothers and sisters with different personalities, each bringing a different slice to the pie, and aren't we just one big, happy, diverse family.  While I do agree that we have much to learn from each other, now that I'm Catholic, the denominations and divisions break my heart.  Jesus left behind A Church.  And, it is a Universal Church (that's what the world Catholic means).  There is room for all of us, and yet, there is also protection from all this confusion over doctrine and practice.  He left behind the Holy Spirit to guide us, not to confuse us.  It requires submission.  Not brainwashing, not blind allegiance.  Submission.  And, yes, that part is hard.  I believe that if all Catholics truly knew what the Church taught, they would never leave.  And, if all Protestants truly knew what the Catholic Church taught, they would come running to their home.  We have it all - history, tradition, reason, a deep intellectual tradition - and most importantly - the sacraments.  Jesus.  Present.  And, yes Jesus is present everywhere, at all times, and to some extent in all religions and denominations, but this division was not and is not his will.  It saddens me.

Today on Twitter, some Protestant with a doctorate called out Pope Francis as being number one on his list of false teachers.  I just can't anymore.  I'm can't engage in these fights.  I can hardly even follow or read anymore the Protestant bloggers and authors I frequently read.  I can hardly engage in a discussion or rebuttal of someone with such vast ignorance.  I am frustrated as I watch Protestants re-invent the wheel, as I watch them struggle with questions that HAVE ANSWERS and HAVE BEEN ANSWERED.  I struggle as I watch more in-fighting and confusion, and as I see that using the Bible to win your battle basically doesn't work.  There's a reason Sola Scriptura is not in the Bible. It is not "biblical," and it wasn't thought up until 1500 years after Jesus.  It saddens me.

I remember that even within my own family, I am the only Catholic.  While some family members are more sympathetic than others, my parents chastised me last Easter for not spending it with "real" Christians.  I am weary.  I cannot open my mind or heart up to people like that.  Yes, even my own parents.  I struggle with knowing even how to even greet them this Sunday.  For one, "Happy Easter" is forbidden because they don't use that word (too "pagan").  For two, I don't want another lecture about how awful my religion is.  I'm weary.  It saddens me.  

All of this pales in comparison to the suffering of our Savior that we remember this day.  If I ever learn how to be a real Catholic, or a good one, I will learn how to offer up this suffering (however small it is) in union with Christ's.  I pray that we may all be one.  I don't know how we will be.  Ever.  I don't know how to have any part in the discussion sometimes.  I will just keep on keeping on in my own practice.  The truth marches on, and I will march with it, even if there are those who try to stop me, who try to rain on the parade, who try to ridicule the parade itself.  God help us all.

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you.
For by your holy cross, You have redeemed the world.