The past few mornings at waking I struggle to catch my breath for a moment as I realize I’m Catholic. These words sound so mundane and plain and entirely unworthy to describe this truth.
Somehow, by the grace of God, I actually answered the Holy Ghost’s call. After years of being, at first anti-catholic followed by years of seeking enlightenment, I randomly woke up wanting to attend mass.
That’s not entirely truthful. There was a two year period where I underwent several lifestyle changes. I left the retail workforce and went into caregiving, I stopped working full time, I refused to speak illly of my husband, and I made an effort to really be present with my children. These changes didn’t happen on their own, actually they were deliberate on my part. I spent time researching and deciding the changes I would make to reduce anxiety, anger, fear, stress and to be happy.
I often found myself reading articles on Catholic blogs or websites. By this time I was no longer anti-catholic, I believed they had some good to teach me, but I was absolutely certain I was never joining the Catholic church. My agnostic parents had enrolled me in a Catholic private school one year, and of course that meant I knew everything about the Catholic faith. Which is completely moronic because I had not sought out articles that were specifically Catholic, the topics just happened to be Catholic.
I found myself in a wonderful online group of women who were living the lifestyle I believed was the correct one for me. We discussed many lifestyle topics and in these discussions I came to learn about the ‘council of trent’. I didn’t really understand what it was but I knew I agreed with a lot of what it said.
Andso I came to download a free copy if the Catechism of the council of Trent from the Kindle store. At first reading this text only formed more questions in my mind, but I stuck with it and diligently researched topics and terms I didn’t understand or couldn’t comprehend in the context. You see I had never been required to read any classical document or literature in it’s original form. Throughout my schooling I had been provided with condensed versions that included commentary. There was always an author telling me how to interpret the thoughts of other authors.
Then came the Saturday night when I had looked up local parishes and their mass times. I made a selection like ordering off a menu in a foreign language, trying to pick out what sounded familiar and putting all my confidence in it. Sunday morning I work up only about 7 hours early. Itching to to to mass. I had been to mass during my year at Catholic school, I had already googled the etiquette, watched several YouTube videos on how to attend mass for the first time, I had even handmade an eyelash lace veil. I was ready to go!
I returned to my list of mass schedules and found one in just an hour. My son woke up early (not an entirely unnatural hour for him) and I said to him “there’s a Catholic mass right down the road in an hour, do you wanna come with me?” To my surprise, having never uttered the words ‘catholic mass’ in our house before, that he agreed.
We both took to mass like fish to water, during the elevation of the Most Blessed Sacrament I began crying, it turned to sobbing. All the years I turned away from Jesus, all the hurtful things I did to others and myself, I put him in that cross. That thought hit me hard, right in the chest. My sweet son simply gave me a tight, understanding hug. A simple gesture that has forever changed our relationship for the best. We joined the short communion queue to receive a blessing. Upon returning to our pew I knew I had to do whatever it took to be in full communion with the Church and receive the Most Blessed Sacrament.
We joined others after mass for coffee and donuts. Everyone was so nice when welcoming, asking questions without being intrusive. It was Sept 2019.
A couple Sundays later I asked the priest about joining rcia and becoming Catholic, my son wanted to join as well. We were offered rcia enrollment at the cathedral or a more personal option. Being the introvert I was and now having some understanding of the fracture seemingly taking place in the Church I opted for the more personal option. We were given several resources and told to ask any questions we had.
One of the resources was fishesters.org I still return to o this site to review items I’ve already read and for researching current topics.
We were scheduled to join the Church Easter vigil in April of 2020.
I found the question and answer format of the Catechism most useful. As I became ever more familiar with the text I could easily find the topics I was concerned with. But in the interested of the golden standard of research I often sought out opposing views. What did anti-catholics say about X became my most used search but I found the Catechism’s answers to make the most sense.
One Sunday my son refused to wake up for mass andso I attended alone. When I returned home he informed me he was sorry and really did wish t attend mass that day. Andso it came to be we attended the Latin Mass for the first time. Our priest recognizing us from the English mass offered me a translation missal and quickly showed me how to use it. Sadly it was too quick a lesson for me to follow along that first mass but I soon became well versed in using a latin-english daily missal.
After our first Latin mass we attended coffee and donuts again. Again many were curious about us. I couldn’t believe how many people were joined together after mass, it seemed like a hundred or more of us. Finally it came time to leave and I instructed my son to the trash can but then choose to follow him to it.
It was there I caught a glimpse of a woman I was sure I knew. But I couldn’t place her, who she was, I had no idea. There I stood staring at this woman trying to remember who she was. It was then she spoke “can I help you?”
My heart began racing, I could feel my face growing red. The anxiety of offending someone was terrifying me. But I knew her voice “are you Mrs. Newton?” I heard myself ask. That’s right, the wife of a teacher I had had many years ago in high school in a tiny little town far away from where we now stood.
“well, I’m one of them.” She said. Great. That didn’t help. No, I knew it was her. “Mrs Newton from richville!” And that’s when she recognized me, you see not only had her husband been my teacher, my parents had owned the small store in town and sold her fine jewelry in consignment.
And that’s when I knew we had found our home in the Traditional Latin Rite. Her and her husband became my son’s Godparents, and her husband’s brother my Godfather.
The stress of the pandemic beginning to loom over our everyday lives, whispers of church closures filling my mind, I dove deeper into my studies. Surely the Church would be more concerned with bringing souls home in a tine when death was so clearly upon us. Our governor decided not to ‘force’ churches to shutter but to my unbelieving ears our own Catholic Bishop choose to shut out Churches. Furthermore, no Sacraments at all. No communion, no mass, no adoration (which I had begun attending weekly and found to be most beneficial), no last rites, no marriages, no funerals, and no baptisms. This was March if 2020 only a short two weeks before we were to join the Church.
Not even small private masses or ceremony. Nothing. During this time I attempted to reach out and offer support to my community. The resounding response -I wasn’t needed the government will take care of us. That hurt, that was and still is the most painful part of this pandemic for me. I was useless, my community didn’t need me.
To help ease the pain of delaying our baptisms my godfather began meeting with us once a week in our home to review Catechism and ensure we were properly educated. A priceless gift as he taught religion.
The evening before mother’s day of 2020 I received a text message stating there would be mass at the usual time and place. Even my husband (a non practicing Catholic, with a story for another time) felt the need to attend. Our whole family dressed in our Sunday best and sat focused on prayer that Sunday. After being denied this worship of God for nearly two months it was all the more precious to us.
That mass was celebrated by a second priest. I still remember the look of amazement when we first saw us all filling our pews. Our desire to worship God even in the uncertain time of the pandemic. It was a beautiful thing. Like when a friend tells you how beautiful your baby is, of course you know it’s true but you’re absolutely awestruck that they believe it as well.
And in that moment, glancing at this priest’s face I knew God had not shuttered his churches, he had not abandoned us. Men did. Fallible men.
I honestly believe the priest had no idea of the conspiracy to crash his private mass but I am so thankful to have been included in this small act of defiance.
Public mass returned to normal that Sunday for the traditional Latin mass at our parish. Of course we all observed the usual dispensation of Sunday obligation if we felt I’ll in the slightest.
We were finally baptised in July of 2020. And it was the happiest day of my life. My family and my husband’s family and our Godparents in attended. We received all the exorcisms of the Latin baptism rite and a peace came over me I will never be able to fully explain. I now bore the mark of baptism on my soul.
After that I understood the need to fight for the right to worship God. In sharing these words with you I hope you can now begin to understand the amazement of the truth: I became Catholic.
A piece of Heaven on earth (part 2: love for the Latin mass) coming soon.