My running group is on a one week break between the winter and "spring" sessions, so I didn't have to travel across town for an early morning run this morning. I slept until nearly 7 a.m.! That is so out of character for me, I am normally up between 4 and 5 a.m. whether I need to or not.
I have been cooking (posole, yumm, yummm) and cleaning, I went grocery shopping, and will soon plant myself on the sofa to watch football. I really do like Saturdays. But I like Sundays better.
I remember when I was a young mother, talking with another young mother in the neighborhood, she mentioned the "sabbath." That was a concept so foreign to me at the time that I still remember it all these years later (probably 30 years).
When I returned to the church in my early 40s, I kind of tip-toed in. I went to mass every Sunday, but didn't do much else that was required. It took me 3 years to muster the courage to go to confession! Then that became a habit as well as Sunday mass. There was still a large category of my behavior that I didn't acknowledge as sinful, and therefore did not feel the need to confess or change - oh my stomach turns when I think of this now!! One small example of that was behaving as though Sunday were just another day. I knew better - I knew the Ten Commandments! But I thought that was just another antiquated idea, like the rest of the commandments which I found inconvenient.
It is so embarrassing to admit how long it has taken me to realize that if I call myself Catholic, that means the whole thing. I can't decide to ignore what I don't want to face. I remember another conversation maybe 18 years ago, with a formerly Catholic man. He called me a "Cafeteria Catholic," to which I responded that it was better than not being a Catholic at all.
Now I wonder.
But I am so grateful that I wasn't struck dead while I was pulling all those shenanigans. I am grateful that I have been given the time to come into the fold. I wish it hadn't taken so long. But glad I am here now.
Thanks be to God.