I've been on my faith journey since I was very young.....long before I even knew I was on it. I've shared bits and pieces and I've been processing it for a long time. My friend has inspired me to start to put pen to paper and write it down. It is only my story and I speak for nobody else. No one else can tell it, so I guess it's time I do. (Insert a heart cry rendition of 'Unwritten'. Seriously, it is my heart song.)
In the beginning.....
I grew up in a quasi Catholic home. I say quasi because if anyone had asked me or anyone in my family we likely would have answered, "We're Catholic" but we really did not put into practice much of the Catholic faith or traditions.
We said grace.
My sister and I went to CCD.
We celebrated our 1st Communion.
We demonstrated the sign of the cross.
We believed the bible was true.
Because of weekly CCD, I knew, what I thought at the time, was a lot about God. I don't like to say that these ideas were warped or wrong...because they were all that I knew at the time and they were the start of my journey....but looking back, so much was just slightly left field. But we don't get to the ending of a book and fully understand if we didn't read chapter 1, right? So, here's my chapter 1.
Looking back on my very early years....I have several strong memories of what I believed.
There was God of course. And he was old and lived in Heaven and really didn't have a body but he would punish you if you did wrong and he judged us and he knew everything and he saw everything. He knew when you were behaving and when you were sinning. I might be getting that a little mixed up with Santa Claus, I'm not sure. I remember a CCD teacher telling us that we needed to watch what did because God was always watching. I'm sure it was an attempt to 'scare' us into obedience...but for the next few months I could not take a shower or get dressed without hiding behind a washcloth and crouching over to shield my 'privates' from God. I mean, gross, God was an old man just sitting in Heaven watching all of my nakedness? No. Thank. You.
There was confession of course. I'm not sure how often, but I remember several times entering in the phone booth and waiting for the little door to open. I'd try so hard to use my peripheral vision to see who was next to me. I also remember lying about my sins as I confessed them. I mean, did they really expect me to tell the truth of my ugly to that creepy Priest (or whoever it was sitting over there) So I'd make up a few things and then go home and apologize to God for my 'real' sins. I also never did my penance. I kind of always thought that just saying I'm sorry had to be as impactful as 5 Hail Mary's. But, none of that mattered because confession was a must.
There was heaven and hell. God lived in Heaven and the devil lived in hell. We wanted heaven. We wanted the beautiful staircase to drop down when we died and carry us up to the pearly gates where we would be let in and live on golden streets in a mansion. If you sinned too bad, killed yourself, broke the 10 commandments, well....you were going to hell. And you'd burn in that fiery pit for your sin. Follow what God said and you could go to Heaven. Break the rules and you would be sent to hell. This terrified me. And I didn't think it could be undone.
There were the 10 commandments. Moses was incredibly intelligent and so God gave him the set of rules that we needed to follow. And if we did, then we were good. A list to follow and make sure we were living by. And if we didn't. We were....well, not so good. I felt pretty good and safe about 8 of those rules. There were 2 that I was pretty sure I had broken or would break and that made me think that it basically was a wrap. (see above paragraph)
There was Jesus. He was God's son but also the son of this teenager named Mary. He performed miracles and had disciples who helped teach everybody what they needed to do. Jesus was very handsome and he was destined to die. We had to believe in him to go to Heaven as well as do all of the right stuff. I always knew he was real. I'm not sure why because I really didn't understand how it all worked...but the mystery of how he was fully man and fully God...how he came to fulfill prophecy and show us the way to live....made me believe that his banner over me really was love. (PS. First song about Jesus that I loved and memorized)
There was prayer. In the middle of so much that I didn't understand...and so much that I wasn't sure I believed... There was prayer. And for as long as I can remember....before I knew anything about anything, I knew prayer was real. And I knew that God was listening. And I knew that there was something supernatural about trusting and believing that God had a plan and that he sent blessing. I talked to God a lot. I cried out to him for help. I yelled at him when I saw suffering. I thanked him. And I whispered hard truths that I couldn't tell anyone else. I truly believed that prayer changed things.
As I finished middle school....CCD changed. It became more and more of a place where you either fit in or you didn't. Just an extension of school. And as I switched to the Milwaukee Ballet School-Waukesha for dance classes....my schedule became increasingly busy. Between ballet, pointe, jazz and tap classes...I no long attended CCD on a regular basis. I didn't experience this as a loss really, because I don't know that I ever experienced it as a gain.
Little did I know what I was headed into for chapter 2.
That's what I got today.
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