Faith: Found and Kept (part 2)

(This post is second in my "Faith: Found and Kept" series.  "Faith: Found and Kept" can be found here.)

During college, I, like most young adults, was in the midst of discerning my beliefs and values.  It's a time, for many, of trial by fire.  Or at least trial by error.  I knew I was pro-life.  I knew I was for helping the hungry and homeless.  I knew I supported my friends going on mission trips to dig wells in Nicaragua (though I never went -- I wish I had).  I knew I was opposed to political regimes imprisoning people under false pretenses, especially innocent people. And I knew I was for people getting the health care they needed to live their lives to the fullest, despite their socioeconomic status.  So I was happy to be part of a community that so actively supported events that raised money and awareness to remedy these problems.  Well, most of them.

Image: maya picture / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

When I became pregnant with my first child, "pro-life" became more than a label.  It became very real to me.  How any woman who has carried a child in her womb can deny that a fetus is a baby is a human being -- well, it's beyond me.  Something clicked for me.  Part of it was no doubt the effect of the tickle of tiny feet from within my skin.  But part of it, I think, was that I didn't feel ready.  Yes, I was married and wanted to be a mom, but the truth was, motherhood came sooner than we had planned.  We were caught off-guard.  We were not on financially stable ground yet.  We were not prepared.  And this lead me to empathize with those women in tough spots, who "choose" abortion because they are afraid and unprepared.  I was blessed with a loving husband and a strong support system.  I knew I was among the fortunate.  And so, while I gained a greater realization for the depth of the desperation a woman might feel, I also gained a more solid grasp on what a precious and magnificent gift a child is, and how amazing it is to be part of a miracle.  I knew wanted to help save these lives, both those of the children in the womb, and those of the mothers who were considering making the worst choice of their lives.

As the pro-life cause grew into a passion within me, I came to search for ways to get involved through my church.  But the most I could find was an annual tithe to a local Crisis Pregnancy Center.  There were no groups from our church who went to any of the pro-life marches (though groups went to protest the School of the Americas).  There were no drives to supply the local CPC (though there were regular collections of toiletries for AIDS patients and their families).  There were no Natural Family Planning teachers or support contacts (though there were always letters to write on the behalf of political prisoners).  And there were no speakers who would come speak out about the Sanctity of Life, though about once a year someone would come speak about health care for the poor.

I took this as a call to be the seed and to invite others to join ME in praying at the abortion sites and writing our legislators, in collecting funds for CPCs and goods for moms in tight spots.

No one took me up on my invitation to join me at the 40 Days for Life vigil.  But that year in 2008, there was a full house at the church hosted information session about health care reform.  I was there.  But at that point, it was in hope that my growing suspicions had been wrong.  I was hoping with a lonely ache that the church I had grown to love was not pro-choice.

To be continued...

Faith: Found and Kept (part 1)

Image: dan / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Two Sundays ago, I attended Mass at a church that I used to call home.  My husband and I had split up for the day because one of our boys was sick, so he took one healthy kid to Mass in the morning at one church, and I took the other healthy kid to another church in the evening.

During and after church, my son and I were approached by several members of the community saying how good it was to see us and asking if and when our family would be returning.

One woman, a lay leader, said, "... if you can find it in your heart to forgive us."  And I was taken aback.  I had never considered that I had anything to forgive really.  Just sadness for having grown apart.

But let me back up.

If you know me, I hope you recognize that I am a giving person and a forgiving person.  I also expect you've probably noticed that I'm a pretty conservative Catholic.  I am generally fiscally-conservatively minded, but I also embrace Catholic social teaching which calls us to stand in solidarity with the less fortunate among us and to be a voice to the voiceless.  But I guess I didn't always identify myself as that conservative Catholic.  I mean, don't we all go through events that lead us to do some soul searching?  Or that essentially knock us upside the head with a "holy two-by-four"?  Sometimes these events are subtle, slow shifts that nudge us from one school of thought to another.  Sometimes they are more jarring and more defined.

A decade ago I was a happy member of a small Catholic community that served the local college students.  I was one at the time.  I loved the warm and inviting community, the inclusiveness, the quiet setting of the church.  And I loved the priest who acted as our Campus Minister.  I noticed at the time that he did some things differently:  He used stoneware chalices and actual bread, not wafers for communion. And he invited us to speak the Doxology with him.  I loved these things and how they made Christ more tangible to me.  I needed these things at that point in my spiritual development. And it was good for me that I didn't realize these things were at odds with Church teaching.

To be continued...

"Do you sing?"

A few nights ago -- or mornings, rather -- Jason Mraz met me in my subconscious again. Even as my husband spooned me in the stolen moments before the alarm went off, I couldn't help but savor the interactive screenplay in my head.

In my dream, I was at an outdoor concert, one where the parking lot was a field constrained by woods. It was nearing the end of a clear summer day. Near the woodline, I could feel the cool breath of evening, but still, the air was heavy with the heat and humidity of late July in Pennsylvania.

The concert was nearing an end, and Jason had just "disappeared" from the stage though the show continued; most of the crowd was still at the stage. I, however, was in the parking lot. I had missed the very end of Jason's set in hopes of catching up with him at the bus. Sure enough, as he sprinted to the bus, somehow without an entourage or gaggle of starstruck fans, I was able to catch him. He had a huge, black afro wig in hand, presumably to disguise himself as he made his great escape. (At this point, we could hear that the crowds were on their way.) I asked if he had a minute before he got on the bus. He obliged, stressing though, that it needed to be quick. I introduced myself as being a huge fan, and thanked him for his influence and inspiration.

He was sweet and thanked me. And then he asked:

"Do you sing?"

I started babbling, "No, I mean, I was in chorus in high school, but not because I was any good, just because they needed people for the ensemble."

As I did what I do in real life, talking myself in circles, he slipped the hilariously conspicuous "disguise" head piece onto his head.



And right about then, my alarm went off.

I hit snooze and tried to go back to dreamland. Alas, it was gone. All but that line:

"Do you sing?"

That's really stuck with me. Even as I babbled in my dream, I knew I wasn't answering the question my subconscious-posing-as-mraz asked.

***

As a kid at Sts. Peter & Paul Catholic school, Mrs. Zana, our music teacher once told the class, "When you sing, it's like praying twice." I didn't know then that she was paraphrasing, St. Augustine: "Qui cantat, bis orat" or"To sing once is to pray twice." Years and years later, Mraz raised the point again in his "1000 Mother******s."

The sentiment has stuck with me along with Psalm 100:1: "Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands." Take those along with the image of God as Loving Father, braid those three thoughts, and you have one of one of my deepest "faith roots." It makes me smile to hear someone at church singing loudly off-key. (Often I'm just hearing myself.) It makes me think of how much I love to hear my children (neither of whom could be mistaken for members of the Von Trapp family) sing with abandon. I think their songs are something like what we give to God, when we sing with our hearts.

But I noticed that I haven't really been singing lately. I mean, yes, I sing at church, along with the radio, and every word of "We Sing We Dance We Steal Things." But I haven't really been singing with intent, with my voice or otherwise. Really, my life has been a lot of humming lately.

I want to change that. I'm just not sure what song to sing.

So now, I ask you:

"Do you sing?"

rainbow in the rear view

[from my 'real' journal]
2/14/2008 1AM

Driving home from work today, there was a little rain. As I drove south on 77, right after the state line, the clouds broke enough for the sun to stream through the west side of the highway. That in and of itself was beautiful.

I was singing along with "No Doubling Back" by Jason Mraz when I happened to literally look back. I saw it first in my side view mirror. I confirmed what I'd seen with a glance in the rear view mirror: a huge, vibrant rainbow met the road behind me.

I smiled, enjoying the beauty & the coincidence -- the wonderful interplay of the song, the view, and my introspection.

It's time for me to move forward, [whether I feel ready or not] knowing I've got God's promise behind me.

* * * * *

I have been meaning to post the above journal entry here since it happened a full week ago, but I haven't had the time to do it "right." I know, in my first post this year, I said I wouldn't let not having a picture hold me back from posting, but it felt really important to me for this one. Even if the picture isn't that great, I really wanted to at least scan the original entry (which is the text in the image).

This rainbow thing has been on my mind pretty consistently since it happened. I was driving home from work, like I'd said. The sky above was dark with storm clouds, and I'd gone through some rain right after leaving work: big, fat drops -- not a downpour, but heavy from black skies. But right about where the highway crosses from North Carolina into South Carolina, the clouds broke to the west -- the right side of the highway -- and since it was about 5:30 PM, the sun was low in the sky and close to setting. Blinding, yellow sunshine shone in through the passenger side window and cast eerily long shadows of the treeline across the road. It was beautiful.

My mp3 player on shuffle, "No Doubling Back" was playing -- I think it started right around when the rain stopped. Even then I didn't grasp the full "coincidence" of the lyrics, but later I looked them up. Some of the lyrics I found to be more than fitting:

I would like to think that you'd know your way
we have dodged the ropes of rain...

...I wanna stay wet for a little bit longer...

...I know this ain't the way I planned it
I guess I ain't the great romantic
and i'm not doubling back now
no doubling back
doubling back now...

...when it rains it's sure to pour...

While my "issues" aren't romantically related, the fact is, the rain imagery and "no doubling back" lyric echoed my situation quite well.

Well, I was smiling, wishing my phone was a camera phone, singing along to the refrain (since it was a new-to-me song at that point), when I glanced in the side mirror and saw the rainbow. Then I saw it in the rear view mirror. I don't know about anyone else, but rainbows always raise my spirits. Part of it, I think, ties to the Biblical symbolism -- I mean, Noah's Ark is one of the first Bible stories kids learn, so it's deep rooted. (And really, for me it's a Biblical reference, but the flood thing is such a far-reaching myth, touching so many cultures, I believe it really is part of our collective memory.) Anyhow, the other part of it is the simple fact that they're beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful. A rainbow, for me, is such an awesome "God experience," when I feel truly connected with God as Creator. It gives me goosebumps.

So with [the symbol of] God's promise behind me while I sang along "no doubling back now," I drove home. I know I have to move forward. I can't stay where I am. And as nervous as I am about the stuff I need to do, I know it will work out -- I've seen, felt, the promise to prove it.

* * * * *

I saw another rainbow coming home from work today. It was faint, partial, & very high in the sky, but it was there.