S
S_Shea
Guest
I’m a newer member, and this thread is one of the ones that made me want to join CA. I hope I don’t get too long-winded, but I am eager to share my story as I really enjoyed reading the experiences of the others.
I live in Buenos Aires, but am originally from the US. My family is not religious at all, and growing up, I would often feel uncomfortable and a bit lost when visiting a friend’s house and we’d have to pray before dinner and such. My dad’s second wife was raised Catholic and we went to Midnight Mass a few times to hear her mother sing in the choir. My then-stepmother had a large influence on me in many ways, and when she would tell me that churches were filled with uneducated people and it was all so illogical, I agreed.
When I was in my early 20s, I had my son (single mom here) and was working at a grocery store. A coworker of mine invited me to her Protestant church, where they were having a special services to get new members. I had been to several Protestant services before in my life…again, sometimes I’d go to church with my friends growing up after spending the night, etc. One thing I remembered turning me off was a very,…I don’t know how to describe it…there was a social aspect that seemed judgemental and like I didn’t belong there. But my coworker’s church was cool and welcoming. They had a band, there was a really witty skit performed, the pastor was young and relatable…wow, so many things he said seemed to make so, so much sense. But after a few Sundays, going to service began to be a chore and, not surprisingly, I could hear my stepmother’s voice about ‘religious people’. I reasoned that I was now only getting something out of church because I was a scared, poor single mom who had dropped out of college and maybe I was grasping at anything I could to stay afloat. (Funny how I felt so judged by these churches when, all along, I was probably way more judgemental of them than they ever were of me…)
Life went on. In 2010, when my son was 11, we moved to Buenos Aires. Religion and God were the last things on my mind. Well, not exactly…this country is very Catholic and any trip on the bus where the passengers cross themselves when passing by a church can grab your attention if you’re not used to it. So do the statues of Mary positioned before freeway on-ramps or displayed in parks or the bus/train stations themselves. We moved into a large house whose elderly Catholic owner had passed on, and it was interesting to open a closet or drawer and have saint medals there or a card taped to the wall. The house has many French doors, each with a key with a saint dangling from it. I thought them to be quaint little accessories from an older woman and let them be.
Then things started to change. An Argentine girlfriend of mine showed me the church where she had First Communion and, though stopping by was an afterthought, I felt really emotional being there. I was touched, but brushed it aside. There were a few other things that happened over the next year or two that made me STOP and really think about Catholicism. I started to read about it and there were things that I really liked: the Eucharist (very much), confession (yes!), the saints, just…everything.
But still, I did nothing about these feelings that I had. Eventually, it got to be pretty ridiculous that I was feeling and seeing all these things to not get baptised. But again, I studied my motivations…why exactly was I doing it? Is this really what I wanted to do? Was I up to the commitment? How did I feel about God? About Jesus? I decided that I was totally onboard for life one afternoon last summer (it hit me like a lightning bolt), and the decision found me absolutely emotional. I called my friend, the same one who had showed me the church years before, and told her my decision. I was crying and a bit crazy. But I also was…relieved. I didn’t fight it anymore and wow, that felt great.
I wasn’t able to begin my classes for baptism until fall. There was a church near where I work that was advertising classes for adult baptism, communion, confirmation…I went there one morning before work to see what times the classes were and if my so-so Spanish would be a problem. I was really nervous going there, wondering if I’d feel uncomfortable as churches seemed to make me feel in the past, with the added pressure of being a foreigner without a firm grasp of the language. The secretary of the church was just wonderful and though the classes were when I was working, she got me in contact with a woman that was willing to give me my classes in her home on Sundays, outside her own busy schedule. She has been such a treasure. I have confession with a priest that understands English, and overall…the community here is just so welcoming and I truly feel I am amongst family. I actually worry about when I move back to the US, because I fret a bit that the church environment will be so different. I know this is about me and God, not about me and the person sitting next to me, but I admit that I am quite in love with my parish.
I was baptised July 13 of this year. My confirmation is in November. Going to Mass is absolutely the highlight of my week and oftentimes I go sit in the church near my office just to feel centered. It hasn’t always been easy, sure…but choosing to be Catholic and LIVING Catholic has been the most peaceful, rewarding, just indescribable experience I’ve ever had. It gave me things that I needed, without even knowing that I had lacked them in the first place. Things people said about God, about their beliefs, things that made me just roll my eyes…I finally understand.
Anyways, there is so much more (my family’s reaction, how to get through Mass in another language., hohoho…), but I’m probably killing some character limit on this here comment, so I’ll close. God Bless!
I live in Buenos Aires, but am originally from the US. My family is not religious at all, and growing up, I would often feel uncomfortable and a bit lost when visiting a friend’s house and we’d have to pray before dinner and such. My dad’s second wife was raised Catholic and we went to Midnight Mass a few times to hear her mother sing in the choir. My then-stepmother had a large influence on me in many ways, and when she would tell me that churches were filled with uneducated people and it was all so illogical, I agreed.
When I was in my early 20s, I had my son (single mom here) and was working at a grocery store. A coworker of mine invited me to her Protestant church, where they were having a special services to get new members. I had been to several Protestant services before in my life…again, sometimes I’d go to church with my friends growing up after spending the night, etc. One thing I remembered turning me off was a very,…I don’t know how to describe it…there was a social aspect that seemed judgemental and like I didn’t belong there. But my coworker’s church was cool and welcoming. They had a band, there was a really witty skit performed, the pastor was young and relatable…wow, so many things he said seemed to make so, so much sense. But after a few Sundays, going to service began to be a chore and, not surprisingly, I could hear my stepmother’s voice about ‘religious people’. I reasoned that I was now only getting something out of church because I was a scared, poor single mom who had dropped out of college and maybe I was grasping at anything I could to stay afloat. (Funny how I felt so judged by these churches when, all along, I was probably way more judgemental of them than they ever were of me…)
Life went on. In 2010, when my son was 11, we moved to Buenos Aires. Religion and God were the last things on my mind. Well, not exactly…this country is very Catholic and any trip on the bus where the passengers cross themselves when passing by a church can grab your attention if you’re not used to it. So do the statues of Mary positioned before freeway on-ramps or displayed in parks or the bus/train stations themselves. We moved into a large house whose elderly Catholic owner had passed on, and it was interesting to open a closet or drawer and have saint medals there or a card taped to the wall. The house has many French doors, each with a key with a saint dangling from it. I thought them to be quaint little accessories from an older woman and let them be.
Then things started to change. An Argentine girlfriend of mine showed me the church where she had First Communion and, though stopping by was an afterthought, I felt really emotional being there. I was touched, but brushed it aside. There were a few other things that happened over the next year or two that made me STOP and really think about Catholicism. I started to read about it and there were things that I really liked: the Eucharist (very much), confession (yes!), the saints, just…everything.
But still, I did nothing about these feelings that I had. Eventually, it got to be pretty ridiculous that I was feeling and seeing all these things to not get baptised. But again, I studied my motivations…why exactly was I doing it? Is this really what I wanted to do? Was I up to the commitment? How did I feel about God? About Jesus? I decided that I was totally onboard for life one afternoon last summer (it hit me like a lightning bolt), and the decision found me absolutely emotional. I called my friend, the same one who had showed me the church years before, and told her my decision. I was crying and a bit crazy. But I also was…relieved. I didn’t fight it anymore and wow, that felt great.
I wasn’t able to begin my classes for baptism until fall. There was a church near where I work that was advertising classes for adult baptism, communion, confirmation…I went there one morning before work to see what times the classes were and if my so-so Spanish would be a problem. I was really nervous going there, wondering if I’d feel uncomfortable as churches seemed to make me feel in the past, with the added pressure of being a foreigner without a firm grasp of the language. The secretary of the church was just wonderful and though the classes were when I was working, she got me in contact with a woman that was willing to give me my classes in her home on Sundays, outside her own busy schedule. She has been such a treasure. I have confession with a priest that understands English, and overall…the community here is just so welcoming and I truly feel I am amongst family. I actually worry about when I move back to the US, because I fret a bit that the church environment will be so different. I know this is about me and God, not about me and the person sitting next to me, but I admit that I am quite in love with my parish.
I was baptised July 13 of this year. My confirmation is in November. Going to Mass is absolutely the highlight of my week and oftentimes I go sit in the church near my office just to feel centered. It hasn’t always been easy, sure…but choosing to be Catholic and LIVING Catholic has been the most peaceful, rewarding, just indescribable experience I’ve ever had. It gave me things that I needed, without even knowing that I had lacked them in the first place. Things people said about God, about their beliefs, things that made me just roll my eyes…I finally understand.
Anyways, there is so much more (my family’s reaction, how to get through Mass in another language., hohoho…), but I’m probably killing some character limit on this here comment, so I’ll close. God Bless!
