At the end of November, I began attending my local Catholic Church – again. This has been a pattern over the years, church for a few months, I get lazy, and I fall away. This time it feels different.
I was raised in a catholic home, received my sacraments, and attended the elementary school associated with the church. We went to Sunday mass at 9:15 every week. I attended a catholic college but only because it was one of two schools in my state that had my degree program. The other college I would have been living home, and my mother’s reasoning to me was because my sisters were living away, perhaps I should too. I periodically went to mass there if friends were going, and also was required to take religion and philosophy classes. Once graduated, it was back to Sunday masses with mom and dad.
When my mother passed away seven years later, I floundered. Sometimes I would attend with my dad, who by now was going to 5pm Sunday mass and then we would go to dinner at the local Polish restaurant.
When we had our son, I had him baptized at our local church in California and when we came back to Connecticut, he attended Catechism and received his first Communion. But we were never a “church going” family.
All these years, the need to be there has been brewing inside me, but foolishly, I was afraid to say, “I’m going to church AND THIS IS WHY”. I’ve said “I’m going to church”, but I was not brave enough to say, “I’m going because I feel peace in church and I feel like it gives me a chance to reset”. When, after all these years, I said this to my husband he said, “I support whatever you do. If it makes you feel better, do it!” In hindsight, why did I feel the need to say why, but that’s a story about me for another day.
Of course, my journey home didn’t happen in a vacuum. A dear friend, my business coach, even an acquaintance at my college class reunion this year in a short conversation, has guided me on my path.
Before my first Sunday back, I went to confession for the first time in over 30 years. I spent the afternoon memorizing the Act of Contrition only to find they have a copy for you to read posted on the outside of the priest’s cubicle. He was so kind and I felt the love wash over me.
My town has been blessed over the years with three Catholic Churches for 45,000 residents. In recent years, adjoining towns have combined their parishes and priests travel back and forth with sometimes only one or two masses a week. We are so fortunate to have a thriving community so each church remains open, although one of the churches has only the 9:00am mass each week. My home is directly between the other two churches so I have a choice, but find myself at the one I attended on and off after I moved back. I started off at the 10:30 mass, which is good, but I hate to say, really breaks up my day! These past two weeks I’ve made it to 7:30 mass and am home by 9am enjoying my second cup of coffee.
I think to give back there will be a time for me to become more involved in the church community. I don’t know yet, how or when but when the time is right it will happen.
Thoughts From The Passenger Seat 