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By the Pond
01 Mar

Am I Catholic? Part 1

sidonamarie Blog 2 1

P1080570

 

 

 

 

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.


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About the Author

Written by sidonamarie

My poetry has been my therapy over the years. In 1993, an unusual traumatic event occurred with me. Poetry over the years has been my sorting out process. I have always had a strong spiritual nature balanced by strong doubt. During period of tremendous confusion, my poetry (sometimes more like stories my son thinks) helped me remember who I am, how I feel, and what I think and always have from a child. The theme I hope comes through is that we should not have our heads too far into the clouds or too deeply into the dirt. Life lives as balance somewhere in the middle with little visits to both edges. All 56 years of my life I have lived in Michigan. I was born in Kalamazoo September 16, 1958. My parents separated when I was young do to my mother’s mental illness. Dad died in 1965 at 29 from a cerebral hemorrhage. I was 6 when he passed. Grandma Peggy (my dad’s mother) went to court 7 times in a year and a half to fight for my younger sister (Kim who was mentally impaired) and me, because my dad had asked her too. She won custody of us. So, I lived with her in Bangor, Michigan through high school and college. I didn’t begin to write poetry until I went to live with my aunt (my mother’s sister) in Wartervliet, Michigan while attending Lake Michigan College in Benton Harbor. My aunt lived near my mother and her mother (my Grandma Elsie). After 2 years there, I attended Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo. I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts major in English and minor in Elementary Education. Right out of college fall of 1984 I was hired at St. Mary’s in Paw Paw, Michigan as a kindergarten teacher. I taught kindergarten for 1 year half days and was moved into a full-time first grade position for three years. I met my husband Gary during that time. On October 17, 1987, we married and I moved to Fennville, Michigan where I still live. Gary and I have a son age 24 and a daughter age 19.


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