  I've begun a scary and daunting quest; becoming a Roman Catholic. Perhaps it doesn't sound so scary to you, the reader, but to a simple Southern Baptist girl with an old and much loved aversion to all things Papal, this is little frightening. Let's start at the beginning - the vital stats My name is Jaime. I'm a 27 year old woman who lives in Washington state. I'm originally from Southern California. My father is an excommunicated Catholic and my mother is Baptist. My father divorced my mother when I was just three, hence the excommunication. He would pick up my brother and I for weekends, and sometimes we would go to Mass. I don't remember much about it because I was so young. I remember sit, stand, kneel, pray. I remember saying, "And also with you", when the priest said, "Peace be with you. " I remember my father ushering us out of the church when it was time for communion. But that's not all I remember... I remember hating it with a passion. Sure, all kids hate going to church, but I mean I REALLY hated it.
Why? Because of my father. He was Catholic so that made it bad. Unfortunately, a lot of families split up. Divorce is so common these days that to bemoan the fact that Daddy left is cliche. So forgive me if you've heard this one before. My father came from a religious Catholic family. His older sister was a nun. So, when he decided to leave my Mom after seven years of marriage, it didn't sit well with his family. He did it anyway, and he did it in style. He left my Mom for her brother's wife. Did you catch that? My mother's, brother's wife. My aunt. So, not only did he get a DIVORCE, he added a little INCEST to the steaming, stinking, bowl of sin that, by association, got placed in front of me.
And I've been choking it down for years. My father's parents, his siblings, everyone on his side of the family sort of forgot that my brother and I exsisted. Sure, when Dad would pick us up for our weekends sometimes he would take us to see our grandparents (when he actually showed up). And they were always perfectly lovely. "Good to see you, how are you doing, how's school, want a cookie? " But once he dropped us off at home, we didn't exsist. No phone calls, no birthday cards, no letters, nothing. This was incredibly painful, especially after my Mother's Mom died. My grandparents on her side were AWESOME!
My grandmother was a saint. But, she died when I was only 11. Since I had such a great relationship with her, it really hurt me that my other grandmother chose not to have any contact with me. She didn't want to, she didn't want me. Instead of thinking to myself, 'Well, she's just a backward, old fashioned meany who would rather believe you don't exsist than to admit the fact that her son got a DIVORCE', I thought, 'If she wasn't Catholic she would be nice to me. If she wasn't Catholic, I would go over there all the time and she would love me and write to me and call me her grandbaby like my other grandma does. ' That's how I rationalized it. It wasn't about who she was, it was about what Catholicism was; mean.
Catholicism is unforgiving, harsh, and cold. So damn cold. So why would I want to convert after all these long years of hostility and pain? The answer is simple; because I've been called. And I sure didn't see it coming! The Call I didn't have a vision or a mystical dream. I didn't see Our Lady on a rock with flowers at her feet or meet an angel in disguise. It was a gradual conversion. The Lord healed my heart by degrees. I realized one day that I didn't hate the Church so much anymore.
I flipped through the channels on t.v. and landed on EWTN. I saw Mother Angelica praying the Rosary and thought it was 'kinda' pretty. I liked how they chanted it. Then came the desire to go to church. I never belonged to a church but I always believed. So, I got out the phone book and jotted down the addresses of Baptist churches in my area. I attended quite a few. I dragged my brother (who is an atheist) along with me to a Southern Baptist church just down the street from me. After we sat down in the pew I noticed a copy of their bulletin on the seat next to me. I picked it up and scanned the pages. There was a little article in the bulletin about a member of the church. It mentioned him by name and said basically, since this man, even though he was councelled by the church, decided to go ahead and get a divorce, he was no longer welcome at the church and that all the members should no longer associate with him.
This was a huge thing in my life! I was completely repulsed by this. I wrote an angry note, put it in the comments box, and left before the service began. I strongly believe that what that church did was wrong. Not only was it wrong, it was mean! I thought only Catholics were mean and judgemental like that.
It shows how little I knew about the religion that I belonged to. So, after searching and searching for a place that 'felt right' to me, I became a member of a LARGE non-denominational church nearby. I 'settled' for this place because after almost a year of looking for a place that I could belong, none of the churches I visited felt like home. And man was I unhappy! I hated this place. I found I hated this place a lot more than I hated Mass as a child, and that's saying a lot. The pastor would stand up on this stage in his shiny shoes and his finely pressed, charcoal gray suit, flashing his gold watch and all the while, preach at me about the wickedness of greed.
Baptist services seem to last longer than Mass. Perhaps that was because about half of the sermon would be about how we're all supposed to tithe ten percent and how much he needed our money. The whole service seemed to be about money. I would think to myself, 'If God is all powerful, why is he always broke? ' I didn't last very long at that church. I stopped going. It left a bad taste in my mouth. One thing that has always bothered me about being a Baptist is that everybody at church is always so happy. Isn't it great that Jesus died on the cross for our sins? Isn't it great that he suffered through the scourging, was humiliated in front of hundreds of people and was eventually nailed to a cross so that I can get into heaven? Well, no it isn't great. Actually, it kind of sucks. What is everyone so happy about? Why is everyone clapping and shouting and saying Amen and hallelujah?
I always wished that people would be...I don't know, a little more reverent. A little more somber, less happy and more apologetic that it took his death to save us. (And quit wearing shorts and sandals to church! What's that about? You're not at the park. Your not out washing your car or grocery shopping. Your worshiping the One True God and Savior. Put some pants on and have some respect. ) Another thing about Baptists; they all KNOW they're going to heaven! They're saved and absolutely sure that when the Lord calls, they're going to the upper room. Catholics don't know if they're going to heaven or not.
They don't deign to know what God's plan for them is. They don't know, they HOPE. I like that. It shows respect. Going to Mass So, I went to Mass. I don't know why, I just did. Something inside me said the people there would understand my need for a little reverance. The people there would understand why I'm not shouting hallelujah and amen. So, I went to Mass...and it was good. It kinda comes back to you, you know. Like riding a bike. I remembered most of the responses and it felt natural.
When I got home I went online and did a lot of reading. I wasn't convinced at this point though. I needed more information. Thank God for the internet! There are a lot of great websites that had answers to the questions I kept coming back to over and over again. I'm a liberal so it was really difficult to read some of the things the church had to say about the issues I felt so strongly about. Topics such as abortion, divorce, homosexuality, etc. kept putting 'a hitch in my get-a-long' as my grandma (the saint) used to say.
It seems like almost overnight my thoughts and attitudes about those subjects changed. I went from being a far left leaning liberal to a far right leaning conservative! How does something like that happen? I certainly didn't have any priests whispering in my ear urging me to convert. I think the only one whispering in my ear was God. Since my beliefs have changed, I've realized something very important about Catholics; they're not narrow minded! This knowledge was a revelation to me! All this time I was one of those people who would shudder at the sight of protesters outside an abortion clinic.
Now I'm seriously considering the fact that not only are they right, but that they are on a mission from God. A Double Standard When One Will Do When did it go out of style to be a Christian? An even better question: Was it ever in style? Throughout the life of the faith, Christians have been persecuted. Many saints have been made out of martyrs. The patron saint of the Catholic church I attend is St. Stephen, the faith's very first martyr. As I progress in my research of the Catholic faith, it occurs to me that it's not so easy being a Christian, much less a Catholic. For one thing, it's so un-cool. Growing up as I did in Southern California, I can remember driving past Buddhist temples, Mosques, Hindu temples, Synagogues, etc. You name it, there's someone who not only believes it but has the directions to 10 different places where you can go and worship it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking that. That is part of the reason that America is beautiful and we are all so lucky to live here. But it seems to me that if you're Buddhist or follow some obscure religion, you're laid back, easy going and forward thinking.
On the contrary, if you're Catholic, you're rigid, uptight, and backward. I was one of the people who believed that. In this day and age, if you're getting your palm read while a Reiki Master balances your Chi then you're cool. If you pray the Rosary and can't wait for communion on Sunday, you're a crushing bore. I was one of the people who thought that way. I am so sorry. So no more double standards, not from me anyway. What Does it All Mean? I'm going to travel down this path, even if the way is dark, new, and scary. I'll be honest, I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to hack it. Being Catholic is serious business and I'm not a serious type of girl.
I'm free and easy, liberal and laid back. I've got tarot cards and when then mood strikes me, I consult my bag of rune stones. Now I have to consider the possiblity that God doesn't like it when I do that. Maybe what I thought was true was a lie. Maybe I don't know everything. God help me, maybe I'm not in control of my own universe and I can't go it alone. Being a Catholic is a big commitment and it isn't for the weak. I can think of nothing in my life that's been more difficult.
What does it mean to be a Catholic? It means, I can't have sex until I'm married. It means if I do have sex, it's a big ol' sin. It means I'll have to confess that sin to a total stranger. It means that if I get pregnant I better be prepared to have a kid because I sure can't have an abortion. It means loving the Mother as well as the Son. I've never even considered talking to Mary let alone asking her to intercede or pray for me! It means having to police my every thought, word, and action when I have spent my whole life telling it like it is and not worrying about what the big, invisible man in the sky thinks about it. It means changing every single thing about myself. About This Blog As I go through the RCIA (Rite for Christian Initiation for Adults) classes, I'm going to post my thoughts and concerns here.
I'm going to try to be as honest as I can. It is my hope that people who may be considering converting will be able to see the process, step by step, and therefore learn what becoming and being a Catholic entails. I haven't run across a site like this yet. I know I looked hard enough for one 
