So, where did this blog with four years’ worth of entries suddenly come from? What am I doing, and why am I doing it?
To really answer these questions, I’d have to go back at least five years.
I grew up Catholic, in a city that is, if not majority Catholic, at least has a significant Catholic population. The bishop seemed to make the evening news on a fairly regular basis, according to memory. And for the most part, I not only accepted Catholicism, I believed it. Truly believed in a good deal of it. Was proud, when I was Confirmed, that I was doing it willingly, knowingly, and not just because I was the right age for the classes or because it was expected of me.
Which is not to say I felt Catholicism was perfect, even then. But it was so much of my identity that, even having a handful of things I disagreed with the church about, I had a kind of peace and connection that I valued. Rather highly.
But there were things that didn’t add up for me. Untimely deaths. Family health issues. Questions that I didn’t know how to ask, or to trust I would get an honest answer. Betrayals by friends. Too many of the above coinciding with what should have been joyous celebrations in the church calendar. And finally, sitting in Mass one Sunday morning, I found myself questioning the very nature of God as presented by one of the priests officiating — only to realize that, according to all the prayers I’d learned and recited for twenty-five years, the priest was right, and I was wrong. And yet, in my heart, I knew I could not accept it. I strongly felt that what he was saying was a kind of putting God into a box, which defied the very nature of what I beleived God to be — beyond human limitations of understanding.
I believe the exact words that crossed my mind were: “Oh crap. I don’t think I belong here anymore. What do I do now?”
What followed, I described at the time as a kind of spiritual free-fall. I desperately wanted answers, and yet everything I found only led to more questioning, more uncertainty.
In the middle of this, I met and started dating H. Grew up Reformed Jew, dabbled in Wicca during college. Currently identifies as a cultural Jew but isn’t terribly comfortable with formal religious institutions of any sort.
A few months after we started dating, after much thinking, searching, my need for a spiritual community led me to Unitarian Universalism. If nothing else, at the time, it seemed like a safe enough place to try to get some of my spiritual needs met until I had a better idea of what was going on with me and where I was going. When I told H, he practically broke out in hives at the word “church,” even though I explained (multiple times over) that “church” in this case did not mean “Christian,” and no, I wasn’t out to convert him to Christianity. I’d be happy if he joined me, since as near as I could tell he would certainly be welcome, but this was something I needed to do for me.
Well, here we are: nearly five years since that fateful day in Mass, four and a half years since my first UU service, and 59 days from marrying H. It’s been quite a trip.
This journal/blog was originally started four years ago this month on Livejournal, as a way to try to document some of the various spiritual corners I explored as I tried to sort things out. When I decided to relocate the blog, I wanted to be sure that the data was preserved, so I migrated all the old posts over here, too. I suspect that I’ll probably be more active in posting here than I was at Livejournal — I’d like to be, at any rate.
And there it is: my story in a nutshell.