I woke up this morning, if not an atheist, at least an angry doubter.
I figured I had my reasons. Inside I was seething mad. Angry that in an hour I had to stand in front of a church, be part of the catechists group being commissioned, and feel like a hypocrite.
And I really, really hate hypocrites. Hate and Mad and Angry seem to be big words in my vocabulary these days.
Some people might say that it's just stress, and I should calm down. Others say, "none of this really affects you, so you shouldn't take it on".
Okay. Fine. Don't take it on.
You see, a few weeks ago, someone I really trusted, someone who was actually one of my children's godparents, was outed as a Paedophile. He was looking to have sex with a 14 year old boy.
And the tough thing is, in my large, extended group of friends and family — in the hundred or so people that I surround my life in — he was the only real "practicing" Catholic that I reached out to on a regular basis. I "guess" he was practicing, all right. I don't know how much he was really living his faith. Oops. There goes my anger again.
The deal is, he would scold and condemn people for their actions a lot. I would hear from some of them, how they dreaded a phone call from this person, because they knew the debasement would begin.
I would have lengthy conversations about the "Capital C" Church with him. The thing is, now, in my recall, I don't know how much we talked about how much we love Jesus.
You see, in any normal conversation with me, it's going to come up. I am in love with Christ. I teach catechism to adults, and that better be the most clearest thing I teach. I believe with all my heart, that religion is dust and nothing without a love for our Savior.
So now, I feel I've not only lost a friend, a fellow warrior for Christ, but I've been dealing with a hypocrite who didn't care enough about his life, his wife, his children, his faith.... enough said. And my faith? It feels damaged, done... Done with this conversation...
Thing #2. I have two mentally challenged people who live with me. They both are intelligent, physically healthy people in their 40's. But they both struggle with mental illness. A gamut of diagnosis from PTSD, social anxiety, depression, hormonally charged psychosis, and borderline personality disorder.
And these two don't like each other, and in the last two weeks, have both skirted around about suicide. They have both imprinted on my husband and I (transference) as parents. At least they treat us as if we were their parents. It's not a role we bought in for. They were simply renters. One has been with us for 11 years, the other for over two years.
When we are away for as short as two days, all hell breaks loose, and I had to deal with one cutting himself, and the other talking about "going away permanently". They both want the other "gone" from the house.
DH and I are thinking, well, let's just sell the house. Then we are free! I have a permanent "why can't we all just get along mentality," until I just can't anymore.
I remember my mother in law saying once, "My giving a crap just crapped out", after listening to her 8 children bicker about each other to her over the decades.
There's a lot more but it's not the point of this post. It's been a long time since I wrote anything, and today was a day that just stands out and I want to remember it.
Go back to this morning. Standing in my kitchen. Telling my husband I was sort of done with this faith thing, this religion thing. Who cares. What does it matter. Why don't I just give up....
He didn't really know what to say. He's a non-practicing ex-Catholic who barely handles that part of my personality. He'd rather I return to the fun-loving, hard drinking, party animal who ... well, I can't even remember, it's been that long. Trust me, though, although I was a nice person, I was not an angel.
A half an hour later I walked into the church, acknowledged a few people I was expecting to be there, genuflected and sat in the middle of the pew. I looked straight up at the crucifix, then a little lower to the sanctuary light, and said to Christ, "Well, I'm here. That's all you get today. I'm sort of done, Jesus. I have nothing for you. You have to talk to me."
Silence.
And then, "So, who DO you trust?" came into my head.
Quickly I thought of all the people I knew and all the issues of this week. Nobody. There wasn't a person I could really trust.
And I always say (or would in the past), "Jesus, I trust in you." Whenever something goes bad, it's my go-to prayer.
I realized I was a hypocrite first class, because I was trusting in all of those people. And every single one of them did and will and will continue to let me down. They will fight for my attention because they are wounded, they want my ear, or they want my sympathy for their addictions, their fears, their desires, their sins.
And I can't do a thing. And I can't trust that they would be there for me in my despair.
But Jesus, the one I have put second, or third or fiftteenth in my priority of trust, he was there today, asking me "Who do I trust".
Point taken, Jesus. Point taken.
The priest's homily was on: "when you have doubt. When you don't even think God exists. What to do."
I guess I'm ready for my confession now.
