Am I Catholic? At this point in my life, I cannot say I am not but cannot say I am either. Because of a separation on ethical beliefs and practices over the years, I have “self-excommunicated” myself. That means – by personal choice (the Catholic Church has not done this to me) I do not participate in the sacraments. It has been almost a year since I have been to the parish that landed the last straw (shall we say). I attended another one in the area a couple of times since but act more like a visitor would – no singing and no sacraments. I reasons are very private and for me have to do with things that occurred for me as an adult. I cannot say there will ever be a time I will talk about it all. However, my poetry reflects the theme/themes of it often. We all have a right to privacy. My choices are mine and mine alone, and I expect no one to follow suit. I will say this – my issues are not with parishioners but with the hierarchy of the Catholic Church.

By the strict definition, I do not believe I ever have been completely in agreement. I would go to church with Gramma Peggy as a child. The Mass was in Latin and the priest at the altar had his back to us. I remember standing on the kneeler to try see what he was doing. Then the change, Mass could be said in the language of the place where it was being offered. I remember the surprise at being able to understand. My thought, “Wow. That’s what they have been saying.”

I went to Catholic school for 2nd grade (Sr. Colette, young nun) and 3rd grade (I believe – Mrs. Young – middle aged) in my small town. It closed because it became too expensive to run. Now, you had to be in at least 4th grade for Confirmation, but, in my 3rd grade year, it was going to be awhile before the Bishop would come back. I my Confirmation took place in 3rd grade. Cannot say I completely understood what I was doing.

In 9th and 10th grade, I refused to go to church. I did not need church to know God. He was always with me. Gramma obviously not pleased but let me have my way.  Quite a stubborn streak I have. My return to church came after a premonition and it coming true. Summer of my 11th grade year on July 8 I feared I would died in a fire. God and I talked. I told Him (yes I told Him) I would stay awake all night unless I was going to wake and get everyone out. If I would wake, I asked Him to let me fall asleep right then or I would stay awake. I fell asleep and woke early to the smell of burning (July 9 – Gramma’s first husband’s birthday). I slept upstairs (door closed) so I went down to find out what Gramma was cooking and burning. When downstairs, I saw the bathroom at the back of the house on fire and began screaming for Gramma and my sister to wake up. We had a renter. I had to back upstairs to wake her (older woman). Back down to make sure my family was on their way out or out. I could not get back up the stairs because of smoke. So I stayed at the bottom yelling at Katie to keep her focused. The smoke so thick she could not see. Everyone got out. I had made no promises to God (I do not try to bargain with God) as to what I would do if He fulfilled my request, but started going to church again.

I do not what to over focus on the premonition thing. My faith, as faith should be, bases on much more than that. I had a relationship with God before this experience. My going back to church was a thank you to Him. My faith still does not depend on a building or a priest. My position now also a thank you to God. He always seems to have my back even though I have made as many mistakes as anyone else. God over the last 23-24 years has helped me more than I can possibility explain.

Okay.  I am beginning to have so much to say it cannot be done in one blog entry. The blogs help me learn to express my feelings and thoughts about my faith development,  my poetry, and my choices. This blog is Am I Catholic? Part 1 So watch for Am I Catholic? Part 2.