..if we only know how to look. So very true, and in more ways than God. I have been searching online for RCIA resources for about 2 years now, and until recently, not very intensively.
Then, for no particular reason, I looked up RCIA and found the Wikipedia page, which I've been on before...just not the bottom. with the external links. Aha.
Wikipedia Entry for RCIA
And lo and behold! I found at least 2 very good sites, which I intend to browse, the first:
Catechumen Info & Materials
Which looks good, plus it's on my side of the ocean, which is always a plus; I never quite know whether Catholic in America is the same, or how you can be catholic without being Roman Catholic....but I digress.
Waking up Catholic
After I stopped playing with the clouds at the top, I found some good information, so I have more to explore, as well as the other links I have yet to look at. So it's definately a better day!
Saturday, 7 May 2011
Friday, 6 May 2011
When I was just a little girl...
...I went to visit Meryemana. Some believe that Mary was taken to this stone house by Saint John and lived there until her Assumption. My parents were big into visiting ancient places, so before I was even 12, I could boast of seeing Babylon, and Ephesus.
This time, I was 9, and still open to the wonder of the places we went, where as later as a teen, I'd be bored.
We'd visited Ephesus, and then we drove up into the mountains, around and about, up zig-zag dirt roads, shaded by overgrown trees, and the warmth, from the weakened sun of a Turkish November, which all added up to 'beautiful' in my view. We finally arrived, and I don't remember it as particularily busy. It was the off-season, and specifically why my parents had chosen this time to escape the searing glare of Iraq's sun.
I remember gazing at the prayer tree, with its fluttering prayers, pieces of simple white cloth, tied to the branches, and my mother telling me as we went, what everything was. The tree grew at the foot of a small path, leading up a small slope, and the tiny, darkened chapel at the top. There were other buildings, but I only remember them as shadows amongst the leafy-green trees.
The chapel I saw was small...and no one else was around, which I preferred, so I went in. The doorway was so low, my parents remained outside, and it endeared itself even more to me, like it was just for me.
Inside, there were candles. Now as I recall it, others must have entered to light them, but it never occurred to me then. It felt special there. I felt special there. It was the first time I felt God. And I knew what it was, no one explained it to me, I just knew.
My eldest sister was expecting her firstborn, and I lit a candle for the baby, sending a child's wish to God, "Please let it be a girl?". I don't remember why, exactly, I wanted the baby to be a girl, but I did, in the simplest form, perhaps to have a playmate, for my sister was 17 yrs older, and I wasn't especially close to her. A few months later, Emma was born. That's not why I remember it though. The feeling of being known, and seen and loved....I think that's how I'd explain it, it stayed with me, it's still with me, and it shines light a light inside me when I go to Mass. To me, it's saying, yes this is the Church to be in.
This time, I was 9, and still open to the wonder of the places we went, where as later as a teen, I'd be bored.
We'd visited Ephesus, and then we drove up into the mountains, around and about, up zig-zag dirt roads, shaded by overgrown trees, and the warmth, from the weakened sun of a Turkish November, which all added up to 'beautiful' in my view. We finally arrived, and I don't remember it as particularily busy. It was the off-season, and specifically why my parents had chosen this time to escape the searing glare of Iraq's sun.
I remember gazing at the prayer tree, with its fluttering prayers, pieces of simple white cloth, tied to the branches, and my mother telling me as we went, what everything was. The tree grew at the foot of a small path, leading up a small slope, and the tiny, darkened chapel at the top. There were other buildings, but I only remember them as shadows amongst the leafy-green trees.
The chapel I saw was small...and no one else was around, which I preferred, so I went in. The doorway was so low, my parents remained outside, and it endeared itself even more to me, like it was just for me.
Inside, there were candles. Now as I recall it, others must have entered to light them, but it never occurred to me then. It felt special there. I felt special there. It was the first time I felt God. And I knew what it was, no one explained it to me, I just knew.
My eldest sister was expecting her firstborn, and I lit a candle for the baby, sending a child's wish to God, "Please let it be a girl?". I don't remember why, exactly, I wanted the baby to be a girl, but I did, in the simplest form, perhaps to have a playmate, for my sister was 17 yrs older, and I wasn't especially close to her. A few months later, Emma was born. That's not why I remember it though. The feeling of being known, and seen and loved....I think that's how I'd explain it, it stayed with me, it's still with me, and it shines light a light inside me when I go to Mass. To me, it's saying, yes this is the Church to be in.
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
I feel happy
I took Anna Mariah to Mass this morning. She was so good, and spent a lot of it on my knee, cuddling, since some of the congregation were smiling at her and she would make shy and hide her face in my neck. So sweet, and good.
We visited the shrine to St Anne, the patron saint of our Church, and then in Mass, while the priest was reading the Gospel, I had her standing on the kneeler before me, while I stroked her hair, and gently rested my hand upon her shoulder...I thought about St Anne, and what an honour it is to raise a child of God, and teach them of Him and His Family.
Before Mass, we went to our favourite shrine...I think that's the word...the place where you light a candle. The one I like has Mary, holding the baby Jesus, I feel so connected to that, I suppose being a mother myself.
We have a tradition, where we light a candle, and then one of us blows it out, and watches the 'prayer' or 'little wish' going up to Heaven, to whisper in God's ear. Then we re-light it, and place it in a holder.
Afterwards, we went to have a cuppa, and a LOT of biccies for Anna. She even managed to whisper 'Is that the lady who plies me with biscuits, Mummy?' about one of the friendly ladies who we join there, for a bit of company. Afterwhich we bought a lovely child's book on First Communion, as much for me as for Anna Mariah.
We visited the shrine to St Anne, the patron saint of our Church, and then in Mass, while the priest was reading the Gospel, I had her standing on the kneeler before me, while I stroked her hair, and gently rested my hand upon her shoulder...I thought about St Anne, and what an honour it is to raise a child of God, and teach them of Him and His Family.
Before Mass, we went to our favourite shrine...I think that's the word...the place where you light a candle. The one I like has Mary, holding the baby Jesus, I feel so connected to that, I suppose being a mother myself.
We have a tradition, where we light a candle, and then one of us blows it out, and watches the 'prayer' or 'little wish' going up to Heaven, to whisper in God's ear. Then we re-light it, and place it in a holder.
Afterwards, we went to have a cuppa, and a LOT of biccies for Anna. She even managed to whisper 'Is that the lady who plies me with biscuits, Mummy?' about one of the friendly ladies who we join there, for a bit of company. Afterwhich we bought a lovely child's book on First Communion, as much for me as for Anna Mariah.
Friday, 29 April 2011
Post One - the daunting
This is a blog about my thoughts and feelings in my journey, my coming home to Catholicism. Not that I have ever been one, I just felt that way, since I was brought up in the Anglican faith, specifically the Church of Ireland, but I felt The Church calling me ever since I was small.
I tried to write this down, but my hand hurt - I suppose I should practise more, but for the purpose of this, I'm typing.
My sister hates that I'm changing religion. She thinks Catholics are to blame for everything that's gone wrong in the world. The venom she spewed at me when I told her, I was shocked that someone could think that way - or rather, that one of MY family thought that way.
My parents don't like it either, which is why I suppose they just sat there, and watched her as she verbally puked on me. I'm all alone in this, on my journey, exploring this new place, and people, and there's no one to share it with, no one to show the new hymns I've fallen in love with, to, no one to share the wonder I feel at the Mass.
Sure all the people in Mass have already seen it a million times before, and what would I say to them? How would I even begin to explain how wonderful it all seems to me?
My dad, he asked me once, "Have you got that choir into shape?" and was going on about how he thought no one sang at Mass anymore, and me not knowing, since I like the quieter weekday morning service, didn't know what to reply so I just shrugged, as if to say I'd be a Catholic if the Mass was silent and no one versed a peep!
Tonight though, I looked catholic hymns up on YouTube, and I found one, I think it's my favourite ever.
There's a gaelic version, but I like to understand it, it's like a prayer in my head.
I tried to write this down, but my hand hurt - I suppose I should practise more, but for the purpose of this, I'm typing.
My sister hates that I'm changing religion. She thinks Catholics are to blame for everything that's gone wrong in the world. The venom she spewed at me when I told her, I was shocked that someone could think that way - or rather, that one of MY family thought that way.
My parents don't like it either, which is why I suppose they just sat there, and watched her as she verbally puked on me. I'm all alone in this, on my journey, exploring this new place, and people, and there's no one to share it with, no one to show the new hymns I've fallen in love with, to, no one to share the wonder I feel at the Mass.
Sure all the people in Mass have already seen it a million times before, and what would I say to them? How would I even begin to explain how wonderful it all seems to me?
My dad, he asked me once, "Have you got that choir into shape?" and was going on about how he thought no one sang at Mass anymore, and me not knowing, since I like the quieter weekday morning service, didn't know what to reply so I just shrugged, as if to say I'd be a Catholic if the Mass was silent and no one versed a peep!
Tonight though, I looked catholic hymns up on YouTube, and I found one, I think it's my favourite ever.
There's a gaelic version, but I like to understand it, it's like a prayer in my head.
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