Reflection and such

Last I left you, I had just become one of the Elect and was getting ready to begin the scrutinies (The time between these two events is called "The time of purification and enlightenment").  Now, I'm 7 days from becoming fully initiated into the Catholic church.  The scrutinies were not something to be scared of, yet I was.  I don't really have the proper words to describe how it made me feel.  I ran the full range of emotions.  I was nervous when my name was called.  I was ashamed as I knelt down in front of the whole community.  I was lifted up by their silent prayers and the intercessions on my behalf.  I was honored as Father placed his hands on my head an prayed for me, and I was accepted as I turned around and faced everyone.  It was really hard to keep back tears as I was dismissed to reflect on that particular day's readings.

It was that way for each of the three scrutinies. Here is an excerpt from (http://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/Lent/scrutiny-1.html): The Scrutinies are meant to uncover, then heal all that is weak, defective, or sinful in the hearts of the elect: to bring out, then strengthen all that is upright, strong, and good.  They are celebrated in order to deliver the elect form the power of sin and Satan, to protect them against temptation, and to give them strength in Christ, who is the way, the truth, and the life.

It's been a long road.  I've been doing this for 2 years.  I used to be afraid to move on, not sure I was really quite ready to be left to my own devices...left by myself to figure out how to feed my faith.  I'm not that worried about it anymore.  Over my two years, I've expereinced genuine forgiveness...twice, and in the worst way I needed that most.  I finally experienced the healing that forgiveness can provide.  I finally truly understand what it means to forgive and forget, and how wonderful that leaves my heart feeling.  It's a struggle, but I try to hold on to that memory to help remind me to continue to forgive, especially when it matters most. 

I've also experienced the relief of turning to scripture for answers...and getting one, something I honestly thought I'd never experience.  I've also experienced the power of divine intervention.  I know it sounds silly, and I've already talked about it before...but I'm still perplexed over those life changing events of this past labor day.  It was an actively uncontrollable feeling that something was wrong.  When I turned around Kelby was 4' under water struggling to get up the incline in the bottom of a swimming pool.  Something turned me around.  My brain literally could not register what was going on...but my body (somehow) did what it was supposed to do...it reached down, grabbed her by the hands, and pulled her from the clutches of certain death to the welcoming (albeit slightly traumatic) breath of fresh air.  My only memory of what was happening was how big her eyes were.  I remember looking at her eyes thinking, wow her eyes look huge...then it was, wow, her legs are really moving fast, but she's not getting anywhere...It didn't hit me until the next day...maybe because of the adrenaline...how close to drowning she could have came, literally inches away from me.  She wasn't under for that long.  I'm not sure how long she can hold her breath, but as I was jerking her up through the water she was beginning to take her breath.  It felt like an eternity to me, and I'm sure it was just a few seconds, but that's what is the scariest...in just a few seconds it could have turned out much worse...but it didn't...and there's a reason...someone or something was looking out for us on that day.

And that continued, the very next day...as I was driving down the highway watching what was about to unfold, knowing there was no way to avoid what was about to happen without causing a much bigger disaster...I felt as if someone was protecting me.  I felt like someone was sitting on the console of my truck, right there with me.  Maybe again, it was the adrenaline, but I think it was a guardian angle.  That piece of angle iron could have caused more damage than it did.  To this day, I still don't understand why it didn't go all the way through the windshield.  Had, it...I would have been very injured if not dead.  My injury and inability to now control a 6,000 pound vehicle going 75 would maybe have killed all of my passegers, my most precious cargo, and all those around me in their vehicles as they tried to avoid the wreck that would have been caused...but none of that happened.  Other than the truck being banged and bruised, we were fine...tiny cuts of glass all over my arms, but no bleeding.  My face wasn't turned inside out, and kelby wasn't crushed.  It was another one of those feelings that didn't really sink in until a few days later, and i just cried.  I couldn't help it.  I was so thankful that those two day's worth of events didn't turn out as bad as they could have.

That really changed my prayer life.  I wouldn't say my prayer life doens't exist, but I'm certianly not the stereotypical Catholic pray-er.  My "prayer" is more like a conversation.  When I think about wanting to talk to God about something, I just start talking...but I used to never really talk to God.  I talked to people I missed.  Like my grandma money.  I've talked to her for years.  I miss her a lot.  I was very little when she got to go to heaven.  But she's always listened to me, and I like to think maybe she's been praying for me all these years.  Maybe it was her who was sitting next to me on the console that fateful day protecting me from greater harm.  Since my other granny passed, I kinda started sharing the load with her.  I've been told those "conversations" are a form of prayer.  But, now, I find myself conversing a little more with God.  Not really Jesus, and sometimes just the spirit.

I'm starting to talk to Jesus a little more, especially since I've started praying the stations of the cross (or the Lord's passion or the way of the cross...it has many names).  It hurts my heart to think of what he actually went through on his walk.  It makes me feel petty to complain or be upset or hurt over trivial things.  But I am, and I do...and when I get to feeling particularly bitchy I remember those stations and I let go and I appreciate what I have for what it is and I try to make a concerted effort to be a better person...for the good of myself and for the good of those around me.

And sometimes I just need to spout off to the spirit.  When I'm in a funk and just can't understand and just need help, I ask the spirit.  Part of me has always thought that it's wrong to pray for yourself.  There are so many other people in the world worse off than me, and they need my prayers.  I need to intercess on their behalf to Christ, but I'm learning that praying for yourself is just as important as praying for other people, and when I pray for myself, it's always to the spirit.  I don't know why, it just is.  For other people, I pray to God.  Jesus seems to be my talking buddy at this point, maybe that will change.

Now, after all of this...I don't consider myself a holy roller, and faith didn't magically happen to me.  I've always been a faithful person.  I went to church as a kid, but it never really sunk in.  The sermons never "touched" me, sunday school was about who could color the prettiest picture.  It's been totally different than I ever imagined it would be, going through this OCIA (Order of Christian Initiation of Adults).  It's been kinda like a fast track sunday school lesson.  I've learned a lot, but I still feel like I know nothing.  I have been comforted more than anything.  I really like the order of mass and especially the tradition.

I like that the word is celebrated first (even though it really took me a long time to understand the purpose of the second reading).  I like giving up an offering before celebrating the Eucharist, and I can hardly wait until I get my chance to actually consume the body and blood of Christ.  Most of all I like the community, and by community I mean commradarie.  Never once have disapproving eyes met mine for lack of a father figure with Kelby and I at church.  Never once have I been hounded for an offering based on how much money I make, and never once have I been pushed to join some ministry or group to prove my faith.  I have been met with nothing but excitement from other people that I have taken this journey and brought Kelby along with me.  I've heard nothing but thanks and praise from complete strangers, and it's nice.  Maybe it is a fluke of the particular parish i'm joining.  I'm sure not all parishes are the same (or as inviting), but it's what I needed, and I'm thankful everyday for the rewards I have received simply because I decided to show up.

Last night, after the fish fry, a man was walking out. He stopped me and asked if I had a moment.  Sure.  I'm proud of you.  You're our little chatecist.  I walked your walk 20 years ago, and it was the best decision I ever made.  I want to die in this church. To kelby: you're a cute little handful. I see you with your mama every sunday. Are you ready to be baptized?

There were 3 distinct interactions last night very similar to that.  The other 2 were women just wanting to say how excited and proud they were for us.  I've heard it said before from cradle Catholics that are sponsors...that they feel a little left out of the process that is associated with RCIA/OCIA.  And what I mean by that, is it's a totally different learning experience for them to see our learning unfold.  I've been told by countless older Catholics that our yearning increases their faith, and that's a comforting thought to know that no matter how old you get and how long you've been going to church that there's always a chance for a different or maybe improved method of refreshing your faith and keeping it alive.

I think I will try to join a ministry, I think I'd like to be a lector for sure and maybe a Eucharistic minister once or twice.  Part of me would like to join the choir and follow in the footsteps of King David,singing the praises of the Lord.  I just feel like taking care of the church.  Last night I picked weeds out from in between the brick pavers in the south lawn, just because I wanted it to look prettier out there.  I'm sure at some point I'll be called to join something, and I'm sure my talents will be appreciated.

Holy week is next week, and I still need to get Kelby's white alb sewn.  It's still sitting in pieces on the dining room table.  I have to have it done and turned in by good friday.  So that gives me today and tomorrow for sewing.  But, we're going to my work-sponsored Easter egg hunt today, and we have palm sunday tomorrow...and Daddy wants to take Kelby to see a dragon movie after church...so i guess i really have this evening to get the sewing done :)

I can't wait to post about my Easter experience!  Until then...