The Beginning of my Spiritual Life

Part II )

Easter, March 22nd was a night I will never forget.
There I accepted Christ into my life. I chose as my patron Saint, Hildegard of Bingen, an abbess who composed beautiful Latin hymns and was so outspoken to have words with a bishop when he was in error... My kind of lady.
I still remembered my first confession. I was nervous and had a list of sins over a page long, written in Latin to ensure my privacy. After getting it over with I stepped outside and felt sunshine on my face. The birds sang. I oddly felt so alive.

All had been leading to this moment when I approached the Bishop of Peoria who had a fatherly smile and looked kind of like Santa Claus, then was anointed into the Catholic Church. I swear people were purposely hugging me so they could smell the fragrant oil on my forehead.
I must not forget Communion, receiving Christ as I never imagined before, present in that little wafer… humbling himself to be one with men…to know what being fully in submission to God meant.
I asked for guidance from the Lord, that He would show me a purpose. This would not come about for a while…and I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’ve had a few experiences when I have loosely communicated with our Lord, mostly at Eucharistic adoration, always he hinted that I’d have to wait.
Then I got in touch with an old friend who was attending a Baptist Church out in Indiana. I found excitement in talking and debating with his Pastor who used to be Catholic. Many of them did not see Catholics as “saved” meaning they accepted the Lord’s salvation. I proved a few of them wrong, informed them of my new faith and even brought up some details of the Scriptures. After praying for months and months, I met a guy at my friend’s church, Rick, who was born Catholic but converted to Baptist. While my conversion-story tells of God’s immediate presence, richness, refreshing absolution, and an Easter night I will never forget, his latest turn was influenced by a previous love and hurried baptism. I respected this so and did naught but bring him to a Saturday mass. While turned my back focused on prayer, he made the decision to return home.

I’d get into trouble for that… soon enough. Their Baptist Pastor, I’ll call him Hank, sent me to the ground. When Rick voiced his sympathy for Catholicism, Hank replied that he had “contempt” for this. That he’d seen fights between angels and devils (that they fought over his poor, doomed soul). He then implied Catholics sided with the devils. Because I don’t snap off on ordained Pastors, I saved my cussing for at home. That man just insulted my grandma, others in my family, my best friend from college, my favorite priests and the Pope- none whom he knows, not to mention ME. I cussed at such insult and yelled about Pope John-Paul II (so loud it woke my Dad). A man who I’d never met, knew very little of, aside from current biographies, caused great clamor in my heart. Judge not someone you haven’t met- and judge not someone who was shot, almost killed and then moved to forgive his attacker. If that doesn’t describe Christ-like behavior I can’t say what does. If that man worked for Satan then give me a ticket to Hell!

I mention this because John-Paul II would figure into one of my spiritual experiences, you know the kind that are hard to explain that people think you’re nuts for retelling. One night I was talking to my friend and mentioned the episode that brought JP II to my attention, I mentioned his name in passing, stopped and looked above me where this presence had imparted itself. I felt like someone was there but my room was empty. Something just hovered there radiating benevolence and peace. It wasn’t God or Jesus, it wasn’t a bad spirit (trust me I’d had contact with those), it was something good, that really loved me. A being from heaven had come to reassure me and it was this saint who I never knew…told you it was weird but I just knew it was him for some reason.
After that I felt an immediate desire to serve the Lord, to act out his will for me, unfortunately, I still didn’t know what that was supposed to be. I got a biography on John Paul II and started reading my Bible more. I also picked up his Theology of the Body, which discusses the roles of men and women, marriage, lust and most of all –the meaning of true love.

I would read more and slowly fall in love with the my faith. Bringing me close to Christ, I sought to be more like him- it was clear I should emulate him…but how?

Easter

Easter.

Tall spires,
unshakable and made of grey stone.
Gilded blue and silver against the setting sun.

Gold and white,
the curtains of God’s palace.
His table made immaculate in order to invite the filthy.

Easter-tide alleluia,
lost amongst ecstasy.
Parting the darkness with long notes of the Gloria.

Colorless,
sanctified water and fragrant chrism.
They douse the head in order to make me sapient.

Sapience,
O happy fault, which makes us saved
- and me savable.

Faith, fidelity,
be one and the same.
Unsurpassed by time.

Cloak my frail humanity in strength.
Divine light,revelation of that, which is greater.
Drips and pours over my frame