Posts Tagged 'faith'

When God Closes a Door….

On my last post, I’d declared that I knew what I wanted…and whom.  Two days after I posted that, though, the “whom” declared that he didn’t know whom he wanted…but he didn’t see it being me.  One thing I’d most appreciated about him was the fact that he could be honest without being brutal.  I won’ t say I wasn’t hurt or disappointed, but I was grateful for the fact that he didn’t string me on or take advantage of my generosity.  In the end, we parted as friends.

Although this guy was the basis in my renewed faith and determination to begin RCIA, ending the relationship with him has not in the least affected my relationship with Christ, or the Church.  I went to the first preliminary class this past week, and it was such a blessing.  My office mate Amy has agreed to be my Sponsor.  She was the first and only one I really considered for the task.  Asking her turned out to be such a blessing.  She had come into the office in a bad mood the day before and had mistaken some information I had put on her desk (I knew she’d want to see it first thing) for me tasking her.  She still felt guilty about her reaction to seeing the info; I had blown it off and forgotten it almost immediately.

The most amazing thing, though, since my last post is on a more personal level.  I certainly didn’t expect to start dating again right away, but the moment I met Bill, we clicked.  He travels all through central and south Texas during the week (oh, yes, I’m jealous–I’d give my eye teeth to have a job that allowed me to travel frequently), and likes to spend his weekends playing his saxophone wherever he can.  Yes, despite my obvious bias, he is that good!  We have so much in common, it’s almost freaky.  Our kids are very close in age (he has 4 to my 3), we both love just about all kinds of music (he just never let his playing  lapse, is all), we enjoy similar activities (allowing for differences in upbringing–his was a blue-collar life in New England; mine is strictly white-collar, Southern suburbia), and both long to travel–the difference is, he gets to.  That might change, though.  We’re talking about taking a trip together in the fall.  We shall see.  I’d love the chance to go, I just know better than to count my chickens before they hatch.  It’s a lot of time between now and the fall, and a lot could change.

Meanwhile, I am going to enjoy the daylights out of this relationship.   Never in my life have I felt freer, more appreciated, or more adored.  I, on the other hand, am giddily overwhelmed by the attention, which I freely admit to eating up.  I just hope he doesn’t think I’m saying I like these things just to impress him.  I’m not, I really do enjoy them!

Stay tuned, Sports Fans.  I’ll keep you updated–both of you.

I Can Take a Hint–When It’s Applied with a Sledgehammer

It’s funny how you make up your mind to do something, get sidetracked, and then put it aside until years–or decades–later.  Recently, a life-changing decision I had made early in my adult life, then shelved, has come back to the forefront;  this time I am determined to see it through.  The Good Lord has made it clear that it is high time I follow through and join the Catholic Church.

I’m not posting this to seek acceptance or debate/debunk any tenet of any religion with anyone.  My announcement is probably going to shock people who thought they knew me well because this is something I, like Mary, kept and pondered in my heart.  This is my own personal journey, and I know in my heart of hearts it is the right and proper thing to do for me and my relationship with God.  I’m just here, as with every other (albeit too-rare) blog post, to tell my Tale.  I don’t tell y’all when I have issues with your own churches (if I do); please respect my decision.  If you can’t abide it, just ignore this post.

If you’re still here, either you’re interested to know what motivated me after more decades (and I don’t mean the rosary kind) than I care to admit, or you have a near-morbid case of boredom.  In any event, here’s my story.  As a child, I was raised in the United Methodist church.  I liked going to church–that is, I liked the services.  All the kids my age went to school with me and we couldn’t stand each other, so that was a minus.  But I digress.  As I grew up and became more spiritually aware, I realized that the shift the Methodist church had taken in the 70’s was so unBiblical that I could no longer abide going there.  Of particular affront to me was the appointing of women not only to the pastorate, but to be bishops as well–a direct rejection of Scripture.  Just before I entered the Air Force, I told my parents I wanted to join the Catholic Church–a decision they supported. (There is a branch of my family who is Catholic; I even have an uncle who recently retired as a Monsignor).

Before I could enter RCIA (Rite of Catholic Initiation for Adults–the “101” class, as it were) though, I met the man I would eventually marry.  By the time he was a teenager, he had rejected the Catholic upbringing of his childhood, and he sternly forbade me to pursue my interest in Catholicism.  We never could agree on a church; it was one of many bones of contention throughout the 24 interminable years of that failed marriage.

Fast forward to March of this year.  I met and began dating the most amazing man.  Butch calls himself  a “sweet, innocent Catholic boy.”  Half is Gospel truth, half is with tongue firmly in cheek.  You decide which is which.  His faith gave me reason to reassess my own.  It wasn’t until last week, though, that I was prodded to finally quit dilly-dallying and act.

You see, Butch became ill.  As in, too sick to do anything.  He needed medical care, stat, and it was the one thing he wasn’t getting due to the morass of his health care system.  You see, it just wasn’t convenient for his doctor to see him, and the system wouldn’t let him seek other options.  Bastages.  So Butch got sicker.  I was doing everything I could for him, but the one thing that really gets to me is to see people I care about suffering.  At work one day, I went to lunch and received a text that told me just how much Butch was suffering.  I was in tears of frustration at his suffering, my inability to help, and the indifference of his doctor.  With no other action left, I began to pray.  Thinking of Butch’s faith, I prayed the Rosary, which I had learned all those years ago.  I got halfway through when my lunch break ended and I had to return to my desk.

When I got back, there was an email from Butch awaiting.  His doctor had found an opening for him that afternoon!  I took it as a sign that this is what God wanted me to do.  I mentioned it to the lady who occupies the other half of my office and who is also Catholic.  She was surprised to hear my story, she though I was Catholic all along!  Still, she informed me that her parish church (near where I work) announced that RCIA classes would be starting soon.  I’ve got her looking into class times there; I also spoke with the parish near my home.  Depending on several factors, I’ll be attending one of them.

This time, nothing (and no one) is getting in my way.  The Lord is merciful and infinite in patience.  For that, I am thankful.


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