10th grade. The year I decided that I wasn't going to attend CCD. My reasoning was two fold really.
Wednesday night conflicted with dance class. And dance class took utmost priority since I was going to be a famous dancer after all. I could not imagine sitting in a classroom with a bunch of kids I saw all day at school to half listen to a bunch of boring stories when I could be at dance class!
But the real reason?
I really REALLY did not want to be confirmed. And the church we attended confirmed in 10th grade. Everything in me bristled at the thought of making a lifetime commitment to a religion I wasn't convinced I even wanted to make my own. I was reminded that confirmation is 'just what you do' and anyone who knows me knows that I almost always initially buckle against anything that is 'just what you do'. It made absolutely no sense to go through with confirmation when I could not honestly say that I was ready to embrace the Catholic faith as my own and become a member of the Catholic church.
As I weighed how I was going to have the refusal conversation with my parents, I decided that it was smarter to go with the dance class conflict route vs. the rebel route. So that's what I did. I mean, I was going to be a famous dancer after all.
So I didn't go to CCD that year. And, I was no more of a heathen than I had previously been.
Over the course of that year, there were numerous conversations regarding my not attending CCD and not being confirmed. This occurred with friends, family...and even myself. I believe it was a little upsetting for my paternal Grandma and even my dad because in Catholic tradition-you get confirmed. Period. There isn't conversation about it. And as the school year ended and I realized the following year I would not have a dance class on Wednesday....I knew the question of confirmation would come up again. There was now no 'good' reason not to go through with confirmation.
Sigh.
And so, it was time to be confirmed.
And time for the confirmation weekend retreat.
It's strange how memory works. I don't remember where we were...but I remember sitting in a room that had a lot of bean bags and comfy furniture. I remember candles and almost 'seancy' atmosphere. I remember reading a letter from my parents about how proud of me they were and what it meant to them as I was transitioning to adulthood. I also remember that it was a crazy odd weekend of arguing, defiance and eye rolling. I am sure I caused the retreat leaders to drink that Sunday night. Bless their hearts.
I remember one part of the weekend involved small group discussion about why we wanted to be confirmed. And I shared that I didn't want to be confirmed. This was met with bewildered looks of disdain. As my leaders struggled to understand and guide me....I became more and more adamant.
~If confirmation was really about solidifying my faith as a Catholic--affirming my beliefs and thus allowing me to be a member of the Catholic church....and I am not sure that I want to be Catholic...should I be confirmed?
~Why does a little old white man in Rome--ok ok the Vatican City--decide what is holy and right? I mean, who is he?
~Is there like a vote or something? Like the president? Is there a coming of age that I can help decided who the Pope is?
~Why are my choices the Virgin Mary or Eve? As a woman....this is not very promising.
~What am I picking a name for? I have a name. What is the purpose of the confirmation name and what the heck is a secular name?
And then. The letter. We had to write a letter of reflection to the leaders about what confirmation meant to us. Why we wanted to be confirmed. What we planned to bring to the Catholic church. What we had learned that weekend. What did we believe.
And in my rude 11th grade way....I let them know that I did not want to be confirmed and not only that, but during the retreat I had actually found more confirmation that I did not want to be confirmed and likely SHOULD not be confirmed. I thanked them for the good food and conversation, but let them know I understood that it would not be appropriate to confirm me.
And I waited. Because I really felt that surely this honest, raw letter would cause them pause and the Priest (who SUPER weirded me out) would call me and my parents in for a discussion and alert the elders that under no circumstance should I be confirmed.
But that didn't happen.
Instead, we received the information about the confirmation ceremony.
And. I was confirmed. Melinda Patricia Sue (or Sue Patricia, I can't remember) Calderon Pitchford.
It was a nice ceremony with a fun party and made people happy.
I still didn't believe though. I just asked God to forgive me for pretending. And I while I wasn't sure what I believed...I did believe that he would.
That's what I got today.
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