For those of you who don't know me, I'm not really an overly religious person. I was raised Roman Catholic, but would qualify as a lapsed Catholic at best. I've always tried to give up something for Lent, but I hardly ever darken the doorway of a church. I can't say that there was one priest in particular that made me start missing Mass. I often missed Mass -- but there was certainly one who I thought was off-his-rocker, and inappropriate, but not like the Catholic priests that we read about far too often. But I digress . . .
When I started Lent this year, I popped into the church nextdoor to Actors Equity in Times Square and received my ashes. I can't remember the last time I got ashes on Ash Wednesday. But with my Uncle's passing this year, I wanted to go in and pray anyway. I suppose I can always talk to him in my heart, but talking to him in church just feels more like a direct line than a text message. My uncle was a joker. When my grandmother, his mother, passed away, I was chosen to do a reading at the funeral. I was 18, and scared to death even though I had been coached by my grand-uncle, a Jesuit priest, who performed the ceremony. Later, after the service, my uncle teased me saying that when I bowed before stepping on the alter, he wasn't sure I was getting back up. And I always though it was very funny, because in that moment, I wasn't sure I was getting back up either. When he died suddenly this year, I was again asked to do a reading at the funeral. Just minutes before we left the funeral home for the church, I stepped into the bathroom. I just needed to quickly pee, and then review my reading for the service. But suddenly, I was stuck in a Houdini like trap. I couldn't pull my pants up! They were stuck, and I had no idea how. Turned out, I had never removed the dry cleaning tag that they staple into your item somewhere, somehow. The staple had caught on to the underside of my underwear, and I was in a life and death struggle with the half inch piece of wire. I had gotten dressed three times that morning, before putting those pants on all because 21 years ago, at my grandmother's funeral, my uncle had made a joke about how short my skirt was when I finally made it to the alter with the dozen priests, no exaggeration, who performed the ceremony. So, as I wrestled the staple, I laughed to myself about how much my uncle must be enjoying this scene. And, I hoped it was his way of telling me to just relax. He doesn't have to be in this life, to be in my life.
This week, an old friend lost his baby brother to a sudden illness. The man was only 36 years old, and my small town has been mourning the loss of a favorite son. I couldn't get back home to pay my respects, so that coupled with my own journey over these 40 days, made me decide to get up early on Sunday and go to Palm Sunday Mass in my neighborhood. But not being an avid chuch-goer, I didn't know what time Mass was, and I new that there were only limited services in English. So, at 7 AM, I went for a jog so I could run past the church and get the schedule:
9 AM English
11 AM Spanish
12:30 PM English
5:30 PM Hatian (why do they luck out?)
9 AM. Time to finish my run, go home, have some juice and head back to Mass. Easy. Mass is what . . . an hour at most, so I'll be home to do Sunday chores like laundry, and the little work I had to do for the office. I tried to pick out something to wear, and grabbed the same pants I'd worn to my uncle's funeral out of the closet. They barely fit. If I'm ever going to wear them, I'll need a belt at the very least. I haven't noticed a huge change in my other clothes, but these were significantly different than they were a couple of months back. And I walked down the road to Mass feeling very good about the journey I was completing today.
The church was packed -- so packed that I can't remember the last time I was in a church that crowded. I'm curious if it was for Palm Sunday, or if it is typical of this parish. After the two readings, we read the Passion. (Yes, the Passion of the Christ sans Mell Gibson's two cents.) The Passion really isn't all that long, but I was starting to sway on my feet. I was getting hot, and I didn't think it was body heat. I hadn't pushed myself on the run, and I'd made my juice, so I couldn't figure why my body was giving me my first really uncomfortable moment on this fast. I couldn't believe the relief when we got to the section where we could kneel -- for all of about 30 seconds, and then back up. I make fun of Catholic aerobics, but this morning was no joke.
Do you ever look at your watch in church? I really try not to, but this Mass really started to feel LONG. Sure, reading the Passion probably added 10 - 15 minutes to the service, but we were only in the middle of the homily when the church bells tolled 10 AM. The gifts weren't brought up to the alter until 10:15 - -okay -- 15 more minutes, and we're done. NOPE! Two hours. Mass was two hours long. When I was an hour late for my weekly call with my dad, he asked if I was sure the church was even Catholic. (I hadn't realized that the church where I'd gotten my ashes was Anglican until I realized that the Father placing them on my forehead was really Sister.) Yes, it was Catholic, confirmed by many counts including the mention of Pope Benedict -- no one else drops Pope's names during service.
I was absolutely drained. More than I have been during this entire process. (Even the alter girls were yawning, so maybe I wasn't the only one who thought this was unusually long.) I had to take a nap today to recover.
But in the next few hours, I will complete this journey. I will wake up, and make juice for breakfast knowing that lunch will consist of solid food. Paul McCartney is singing in the background now, "Let it be." So much has happened in the last 40 days. Some were born, and some have died. Some have sought answers, and some have found them. For others, the questions still remain. I don't have all of my answers, but I know a little more about myself. I can see when I'm being insecure, and unfair the same as when I'm being generous and accepting. I know that it is within me to overcome my habits and addictions no matter how frightening. Every journey starts with just one step, but you'll never get where you're going without it.
Step forward down your path . . .
Daily Breakdown: Saturday
JuicesConsumed: Kale/Carrot/Apple/Lemon/Banana/Ginger; Vega/Water/Banana/Almond Milk/Flax Seed Oil - squared; Weight Loss: 0 lb (Juice Feast Total: 19.5 lbs)
Bodily Functions: Not very active
Exercise: Zumba
Daily Breakdown: FridayWeight Loss: .5 lb (Juice Feast Total: 19.5 lbs)
Bodily Functions: Not very active
Bodily Functions: Not very active
Exercise: nope
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