Where the Catholic Sun Doth Shine

In which I start to break a rule I didn't know I had

Would you believe that God took eight years of struggle and despair and frustration and anger and hopelessness and feelings of massive failure and turned them around in the course of one week? 

Eight years - that's how long I've been trying to figure out how to do this Catholic thing. Which I know isn't even the right way to say it or describe it, but seriously, that's all I could figure out how to say for eight years. How do I DO this? How come nothing WORKS? How come nothing FITS? Why do I feel so endlessly constantly strangely LOST? Am I really supposed to be Catholic? If I'm really supposed to be Catholic, how come I suck so much at being one? 

(My choice of phrasing has yet to be transformed, obvs.)

So a few things happened. I started a stupid Catholic BLOG, which you have to admit is kind of ridiculous, not to mention incredibly difficult to update, but I started it and it's been... not exactly fun or amazing, but held me accountable to keeping the struggle in mind. Instead of, you know, ditching it altogether and heading out to the Unitarian church. 

Then my friend who's been harping on me to read the enneagram stuff for YEARS finally convinced me this spring and dude. Type Three rocked my world. I know it's weird. I know it's Not Biblical. I know it's potentially just another personality test. But it spoke to me (one day I'll have to write about how much it's improved communication in my marriage) and it set a few thoughts in motion. 

Then I went to see a spiritual director and wound myself into a good smelly completely-out-of-character funk. 

Then last Saturday I went to a women's conference hosted by a large Christian charity. I went with a Catholic friend and I feel safe saying we were probably the only Catholics in attendance. Both of us having some sort of background in worship music and free form prayer and just the general CULTURE, we were comfortable and eager to be there, but we both felt nervous revealing what church we went to. And when a panelist asked the attendees to share what kind of prayer was especially meaningful to them, both my friend and I (I found out later, when we debriefed in bumper to bumper traffic) kept our mouths shut because neither of us wanted to blurt "the Rosary!" to a room full of non-denominational churchgoers. 

And yet... I feel certain now that God brought me to that conference (I didn't decide go to until almost the last minute) not because he wanted me to start my own organization chapter and start fund raising for anti-human trafficking campaigns (more power to those of you doing THAT!), but because he wanted me THERE. Surrounded by this oh so familiar yet foreign culture. Remembering that I love this culture, that I fit in in ways I never do in Catholic settings. Of course that all made me very anxious, and that was part of our debriefing in the car. Does the fact that we are inspired and challenged and excited mean we are CHEATING on the Catholic church?! 

Were we? One of the workshops I attended was on prayer, which is what I feel most called to do and most confused about doing in a Catholic setting. I loved the speaker immediately. Small, quirky, unafraid to be wildly emotional, kind of nutty, speaking in hushed tones then practically shouting, and so obviously close to God. And half the books she was recommending on prayer, half the PRAYERS she was introducing to us, were Catholic or had their roots in orthodox traditions. It was... well, entirely new to me. Fresh, bright, hopeful. I felt welcome. 

I hardly knew what to say about my experience at that conference. I kept it to myself. This Saturday Phillip and I met with our longtime friends - this is our fifth year doing our couples retreat based on St. Ignatius' Examen. We are the only Catholics in this group and while they all know this is something I struggle with, I've never really laid it out like I did this weekend. I told them how amazing it was to hear a Protestant woman recommend, well, the Examen! And when I finally fessed up to what church I attended, hearing her say, "That's lovely" and actually believing her. I told them how exciting it was to be there and how I was toying with the idea of joining the charity's prayer group. Then I told them how strongly, how deeply, how VERY MUCH I believe God wants me in the Catholic church, and then how much I despair of ever finding my PLACE in the Catholic church. What do I do as a Catholic? I asked this over and over. What do I DO?

I love that my Protestant friends, heavily involved in their Protestant churches, love and trust that God calls Phillip and me to the Catholic church. I am so grateful. And I am learning from you, my not Catholic readers, that I need to not be so fearful of revealing my Catholic identity in Protestant settings. That was one thing I learned this weekend. 

The other thing I learned can be found in the scripture God gave one of my friends as she prayed for me. 

In it were all the earth's four-legged animals and reptiles and the birds of the sky.

13

A voice said to him, "Get up, Peter. Slaughter and eat."

14

But Peter said, "Certainly not, sir. For never have I eaten anything profane and unclean."

15

The voice spoke to him again, a second time, "What God has made clean, you are not to call profane."

 

I had no idea what she was talking about. And I worried that she thought I thought anything not-Catholic was "unclean". 

Later I looked up the entire verse - Acts, Chapter 10 - and then I read it about a million times. The parts that stood out to me were: 

While he conversed with him, he went in and found many people gathered together

28

and said to them, "You know that it is unlawful for a Jewish man to associate with, or visit, a Gentile, but God has shown me that I should not call any person profane or unclean. ¹⁰

29

And that is why I came without objection when sent for.

and

Then Peter proceeded to speak and said, "In truth, I see that God shows no partiality.

Rather, in every nation whoever fears him and acts uprightly is acceptable to him.

The word my friend kept hearing as she prayed, she told me, was "reconciliation". 

I'm not trying to make some pronouncement about the Protestant/Catholic divide, I'm really not. I don't know anything about it and far be it from me to act like I do. What I CAN say is that I am somehow in the middle of it, and that for eight years any pull I've felt towards any Protestant organization or church or ministry or bit of culture has felt like I am failing my call to be Catholic. I feel like I finally have the right words for what I've been trying to figure out. That what I am longing for is a ministry, a way to serve God, a way to use the gifts he's given me, and I feel as though I've done my absolute best to find such a thing in my church, in Catholic organizations, in Catholic culture. And I just haven't found it. I'm not saying I've found it in a Protestant setting either, but now I feel like the option is available to me. And I feel like God is telling me that it would be okay, that it wouldn't be cheating on my Catholicism and it certainly wouldn't be a failure. 

We went to early Mass Sunday morning and God spoke to us. In the homily, in the eucharist - it helped that the kids weren't there, it helped that we were in an already churchy frame of mind. I felt so assured, so confident, that Mass is where I belong on Sunday mornings. I sat in the pew realizing how it was ME who decided it was unlawful to participate anywhere else, and how God had just given me permission break my own rules. 

As this is the umpteenth blog post I've written trying to record what has happened over the last several weeks, it's apparent I cannot fully or accurately describe how freeing this is.  

Eating chocolate chips with Jesus

This will be my attempt to "finish" this post. Although, note to self, I should never do "to be continued" posts because, ah, what was I writing about again? 

Ugh. How do I write this without getting all listy and boring? Hmm.

Have you ever said to yourself, "Well! I tried that and it didn't work. Oh well! Moving on!" I mean, I say this about things like, oh, trying to make rounded corners in CSS. Eventually I gave up. Oh well! (Although I bet there's a way to do it NOW. I should check that out.) But I've never said it about anything as large and great as CHURCH. Which was essentially how I was feeling. It wasn't just the spiritual director, it was spirituality. It was church and everything I've tried to do and be with church and anyone who wanted to talk about church and honestly, the new church meeting I'd signed up for could go jump off a bridge for all I cared. 

Oh, that was a particularly rough night, the night I went to the church meeting and tried, again, to express a deep-seated Thing about myself and was, in the face of that vulnerability, condescended to/patronized. And not just your regular old introverted vulnerability, where you are brave enough to open your mouth and you just hope you don't sound like an idiot. This was vulnerable as in: I am telling you something about myself that I KNOW is not right and I KNOW needs heaps of character building, but I am going to tell you anyway, because I am trying out this whole Being Real thing that everyone is always harping about and WOW DID THAT FAIL. And yeah, I know the person in question did not at all mean to condescend/patronize and was just trying to be nice but KISS MY YOU KNOW WHAT, PERSON IN QUESTION! 

Eh. You know that only lasted a week. A week's about as far as I go angry/depression-wise. Then I eat some chocolate chips and try a different thinking route and lighten up. (Just a little.) 

Where was God in all of this? I don't know. When I look back at those weeks I see myself sort of emotionally storming around and Jesus kind of hanging back in the corner with the bag of chocolate chips, watching me, munching, waiting for me to get it out of my system. Like, totally not annoyed or impatient or bored, just passing time.

The first thing that helped was reading a series of blog posts about some dude's personal experience with exorcism. I know. All the pinky-toe-in-the-churchy-water people just flew out of here. But seriously, those were some hands down awesome blog posts and they reminded me that 1) there is stuff out there that doesn't want me to be eating chocolate chips with Jesus and 2) what I do, what I was made to do, what God gifted me to do no matter Catholic, Protestant, winning at church, impactful blogger, supermom or WHAT, is pray against that stuff. These truths I hold self evident. 

So I started to snap out of it. Somehow. The angry, snippy stuff - that isn't me. I realized that if I tried another spiritual director I would have to put on my big girl pants and understand that people are spiritual directors because they see crap about you that you are not so good at recognizing yourself. WHICH IS WHY YOU SEE THEM. 

I realized that while my approach to How To Be Catholic is so off base I even question "How To Be Catholic" is the right term for it, it's a valid struggle AND I would do well to find a spiritual director, if I wanted one, who speaks Three. Because if one more person blows off my hard work I will go on some sort of church meeting RAMPAGE.

I realized, again, for the trillionth time, that I am called to be Catholic. Even if sometimes I don't like it. 

What I can say for this unattractive little episode of mine is that SINCE then, I mean, SINCE I've located Jesus in the pantry and now we are both eating chocolate chips TOGETHER, I am hearing him rather well. Not that I understand everything he's saying. HA. More on that later. 

In which someone trots out the religious equivalent of "just relax"

WELL HELLO! Now that I've taken off my Grumpy Pants and have fortified myself with appropriate amounts of chocolate and mindless murder mysteries, perhaps I can revisit this confusing little episode. There are some Life Lessons in there that I need to unpack. Via blog. As I do. 

It all started with my spiritual direction appointment. OBVS. Like that was going to do any good, am I right? (NOTE: I am probably going to try it again. I will just have some Life Lessons under my belt next time. Moving on!) Or maybe it started with pinpointing my Enneagram type? Maybe that's it. Things that just seemed sort of peripheral or random or whatever were suddenly held under a microscope and deemed to be, uh, Front and Center. At least faith-wise, I think. 

See, I am a Three, which means I am a workaholic overachiever who runs on praise, approval and applause. OH THE SHAME. But then 1) anxiety happened in my early twenties and 2) I became a stay at home mom in my late twenties and both of those things/incidents made it difficult to see my workaholic overachieverness post-high school and college - anxiety because it stripped away much (SO MUCH) of my unawareness-of-self and SAHMdom because can you BE a workaholic overachiever if no one sees you do it? Hence my whole "Am I REALLY a Three?" saga about which you cared not at all. 

But then I started to look at my Catholic Career (Including My Protestant Years) in the light of Three-ness and HOLY GRILLED CHEESE. I mean, NO WONDER. I've already gone on and on here and elsewhere about the NDCF, so let's just start at the point where Phillip and I decided that yes, we were definitely in the Catholic camp and we would just Be Catholic Forever And Ever Amen. When we flipped that switch and permanently duct taped it in place, I began to Investigate. I knew how to be a Girl Wonder in the NDCF, now I had to figure it out in Catholicland. (If I were going to pepper this post with a few more "shames", I'd add another right here.) 

So! In my Quest To Be A Good Catholic, I: 

• attended the young adult group several times 
• became an RCIA sponsor
• tried to help start another young adult group 
• attended various short term small groups
• spent three years on the liturgy committee 
• attended a handful of charismatic prayer group meetings
• volunteered to be the hospitality coordinator
• went to Mass on Saturdays
• visited with an Elderly Knowledgeable Lady to ask her questions aka suck her into being my Mentor
• read book after book after book
• read dozens of Catholic blogs and got educated on an entirely different Catholic culture than the one I know in real life
• agreed to ANOTHER three-year term on a [different] committee
• went to retreats, Catholic and not
• went to workshops, Catholic and not
• tried to become someone who said the Rosary all the time
• tried to become someone who prayed the Liturgy of the Hours
• stood behind endless fair tables and fundraising booths
• called and visited dozens of strangers in parish outreach events
• prayed. And prayed and prayed and prayed

and OH YOU GUYS. None of these things were The Right Thing. None of them were the wrong thing. I mean, many of these groups and situations were awkward or boring or not for me or too ambitious or whatever, but none of these things were BAD. But I wasn't looking for good or bad or learning experiences or whatever, I was looking for The Thing That Would Make Me A Good Catholic. Hasn't that been obvious to you, O Very Bored Readers Of This Blog? That I would find the Specifically Catholic Thing That God Made Me To Do? 

And then, tangentially, the Specifically Catholic Things That Will Grow My Relationship With God. ie: a specifically Catholic prayer "routine", like the Liturgy of the Hours, or an Adoration habit or whatever. Something like that. Or a gift in writing amazing, stunning, informative, helpful, breathtaking, WISE posts on my Catholic blog. Or ministry to a particular group of people. 

OR ANYTHING. Anything except this stumbling-around-in-the-dark feeling I have with my faith right now. Every couple of months I'd see a flicker of light: a thought, a word, a blog, a book, something someone mentioned offhand. Something that would make me think and realize something. 

But then it would always go dark again. I was - AM - so very tired, so very frustrated, so very worn down by the darkness. And of course that can't be God's doing. It's mine. All mine. What can I possibly do differently? What can I try? What can I do next? There has to be something else. There has to be something I'm missing. Maybe this meeting or that person or this event, maybe THAT will help. 

So when I sat down with the spiritual director and she said that I didn't have to do anything, I didn't have to work hard, how about I sit down and wrap a blanket tightly around my shoulders and just feel God's love for me... I wanted to 

1) stand up and shout, "I KNOW I don't have to work hard! I'm not STUPID!" and

2) throw a Glee-style slushy in her face and stomp out. 

To be continued. 

  
  

At the kitchen table while Phillip is out with friends

Last week I applied for a freelance writing gig - writing copy for a fake Groupon site. I really wanted it. I was excited about extra money. Mostly I was excited about the prospect of telling people I was a writer. 

I know, I know. Really, I know. And it's not that blogging isn't writing or that paid blogging isn't writing or that writing a novel isn't writing - but for me? In my head? In my skewed perspective of the world? In my understanding of my place in it? Those things don't say that I am A Writer. Which is what I most want to be in the entire universe. 

But hey, if fake Groupon hired me to write "quirky" copy for their daily deals and paid me a surprising amount per pop, THAT'S something I wouldn't be embarrassed to talk about. "Yeah, I stay home with my kids and do some writing on the side." Like it would legitimize me. Or something. 

It's so much about what other people think. No, what I think other people think.

Anyway. Since the sample copy I wrote was not the copy they used in today's deal, I'm pretty sure I didn't get the gig. Which: fine. It's certainly not the first time I didn't get a job. Not the first time I've felt jealous or bummed out or wondered what I did wrong. 

But I'm pretty sure it's the first time God has used such a circumstance to spell out what's going on in my spiritual life. Which, frankly, kind of sucks. I don't like it. LEAVE ME ALONE, SPIRITUAL LIFE. 

Basically, what I hear God telling me in the middle of Earning Extra Money Failure is: I still love you. 

Well, you are saying to yourselves. You are saying: we should hope so! He is GOD. That's what he DOES. And you're right, I know you're right, the part of me that processes things in a rational intellectual manner totally gets it. 

But there's another part of me that's all, "WHY?"

No really. Why? I'm nothing special. I'm not a good enough writer to write stupid ad copy for fake Groupon. My novel sucks. My blog posts are stupid and boring and pointless. Even my paid blogging gig is sort of a joke. Why did I ever think I could do this? Be this? Pull this off? 

And it doesn't stop there. As a mother I'm completely lacking in creativity and energy, not to mention patience and compassion. As a wife I'm pretty subpar. I'm a terrible housekeeper. I'm not a great cook. That one time I let down a friend was so devastating it's pretty much erased any pride I had in that department.

And as a Catholic? A Christian? HA HA HA. 

Now, you know that I can't think all these things and still manage to get up in the morning. No, I have an extremely optimistic sort of personality and I work hard. I am HOPEFUL that if I keep writing my novel will stop sucking. I'm HOPEFUL that if I keep trying out those recipes from Martha Stewart Every Day Food I will stumble upon The Recipe that will mean I can invite friends over for dinner. I'm HOPEFUL that one day my kids will reach an age or a stage or maybe I will find a patience tree in my backyard and I'll turn into the mom I wish I could be. Oh yes, I certainly keep on going. I can work hard. I can earn it. I can strive harder. Days like today, where I feel useless and insignificant and one-of-the-crowd, are truly the exception. 

But I feel like God is saying that my optimism doesn't matter. My optimism doesn't even make it better. It's the fact that he loves me even if my novel stinks. Even if I am not special at anything. Even if I cannot distinguish myself in any way. Even if I think myself distinguished in something, only to bomb, fail, hurt someone else's feelings, lose. 

That I am worthy. Even dirty and broken and sinful: I am worthy. 

I keep trying, you know. I'm not really sure what the threshold is for Being Loved. For Writing, I suppose, it's landing a gig with fake Groupon. I wish it were so easy with God. Although, again, he reminds me: there is no threshold. You are missing the point. Please, let's sit down, let's have a glass of wine, listen to me... 

Even as I'm writing this I sense Jesus on the other side of the table, his chin in his hand, watching me. Amused. (Jesus, when I sense him, is always amused.) I feel like he's saying, "Yes, write it all out, write it till you think you have a grip on it, then come sit with me, come be with me, feel loved by me." 

I just don't know if I could I write enough. 

Acting in love

I've been thinking about what it means to act in love. 

I wrote a little about it here, in a specific context. But it's a concept I can't shake. Not that I've tried, but I tend to forget Things I've Learned almost as quickly as I learn them. That's one reason why I wanted to start a blog about my faith. Kind of like a blog will catch all the baby book gaps; maybe this blog will catch the gaps in my spiritual life. Or something. 

I was put in a slightly sticky situation recently. It was only slightly sticky because I was in a much stickier situation a while back and it didn't go well. I was very nervous about things not going well again, and I had to really think about what I should do. I had a full bevy of options, but they all felt... STICKY. Like, I just had no confidence in any of my options. None of them felt like the Right Thing To Do. 

So... I prayed about it. Not with great intention or anything. It was more like something I would think about in the shower, and then say, out loud, something like, "OKAY GOD. FIX THIS!" Or I would be driving and wondering what I should do and then realize there wasn't really anything I COULD do, and that if it were to go well it would just have to be God FIXING IT. (Basically I want a little Pocket God I can pull out to fix all my Sticky Situations.)

I did realize something, though. I realized that I could just Act In Love. I could do my very best to say and do the things that would be most loving towards everyone involved. And if I could do that, I could be at peace with whatever resulted. 

This was an incredibly freeing thought. 

And that's exactly what I did. I had no real idea what I was going to do or say when the time came, but I told myself that I would Act In Love. It helped that the people with whom I would DO something or to whom I would SAY something were people I totally trusted to ALSO act in love. People who would get it. The sticky situation was inadvertent, you know, one of those potentially awkward things that just happen. So I trusted them and I trusted myself and I trusted God to help me not put my foot in my mouth and it worked. When the time came for me to say something to turn the situation into something less sticky, there was something loving for me to say. Everything was fine. 

A while back a friend with some stiff churchy credentials, ie: she is on her church's PREACHING team, was processing through one of her sermons with me. (Note: She must have been desperate because I am, like, the worst person for something like this. I am the Paula of advice and critique and my friend was totally looking for a Simon. Must work on this.) She was preaching something about the Sermon on the Mount, the part where Jesus is saying, "let your yes mean yes and your no mean no." (Verse 37.) And she was all, "What am I supposed to say about that? What does that mean in REAL LIFE?" and we talked about this for quite a while and I think everything eventually worked out because, like, people came up to her later all, "THAT TOTALLY SPOKE TO ME, DUDE" so yay my friend!

ANYWAY. This was a long time ago and I'm still thinking about it, and I think, in my real life, it means something like: act in Love.  

See, I feel like there are a lot of places in my life where I don't say yes or no. It's kind of hard to explain. My friend suggested Jesus was telling us not to lie, but I think it's more complicated than that. Because there are times when you're not lying, but you're not ready to commit. You're not ready to be truthful or agree or join or whatever. And who knows why. Maybe you feel insecure or you need to talk yourself into something or you don't want to do whatever it is that you're doing, but you feel guilty about saying no. You feel like you should, but you don't want to. And by "you" of course I mean "I". 

But I feel like, if I act in Love, I can say yes and no with confidence. I won't have to justify or explain or hedge or fudge or make anyone wait - I can be firm in my words. I can be at peace. 

Of course, in my most recent Sticky Situation, I didn't have a clear idea of what it meant to act in love, but my desperate desire to DO so felt like a prayer, a prayer God ultimately answered. He gave me a clear opportunity to act, and I acted in love. (With faith!) 

It's eleven. I'm going to bed. Which means I am 1) not editing this and 2) going to be upset at how many things I left out and/or didn't explain but PHILLIP is going upstairs before me and that is never a good indicator of how the next day will go. SIGH.