The Story of Confirmation Part I

So I wrote this last year to describe what the experience of becoming Catholic was like. I'd like to share it with you all now as we approach Easter. Thanks for reading. Love. Hugs.

I woke up on Saturday morning with a head full of anxiety and cold feet. What did I think I was doing? There was no way I was going to wear all white, get up on stage wearing all white, face the entire congregation in my white outfit and nerd glasses and my true intentions laid bare, get oil smeared on my white forehead and say "I do" to a man I have never met and a God I can not see. Right. I called Renee immediately and got voice-mail, left a message "This is insane ridiculousness and I have cold feet. What are you going to wear? Call me". I proceeded to search the webbernets for a sign of life and fortunately while I was there Judy B. was online. She has been a great friend these past months. She helped me lighten up at the beginning of Lent and has been a sport about my Catholic questions. So she dialed me up and I told her a bit about my predicament. She thought it sounded natural and gave me a good pep talk.

A few technical difficulties resolved and some breakfast made and we were chatting away. I won't elaborate on the conversation except to say that it really helped me get centered and take an objective look at my impending confirmation. It was the exact opposite of what came next.

I was already exhausted from the stress of the morning so I crawled into bed. And I sobbed. So many emotions were crowding me that I couldn't keep them in. I had done so much work to get to this day. So much opening of my brain and heart, so much having faith and praying, so much anguish and frustration and attempts at forgiveness. I spent hours and hours, months at a table with newlyweds with newborns and soon-to-be-weds with starry eyes watching them grow closer together and more in love. I listened to viewpoints and perspectives from Chicago's priests and bishop and all sorts of other people who live their lives as Catholics. I took copious notes and read my bible, um, religiously. I dove into Lent with such earnestness that I actually gave up hope, because it was the only thing that gave me great comfort, so I thought that was what I was supposed to do without. After Judy B. set me straight, I gave up cheeseburgers instead. Better to be skinny than hopeless. All of this and still to come was Reconciliation. I knew what I had to say, and I have never been more scared in my life. I clutched the paper with your penitential prayer until it was crumply and soft. And I broke myself open with tears that would not stop and reached into my heart for the the thing I had to turn over to God. It was like extracting a shard of glass that had been wedged in there for years and I gave it to Father Jack Wall because he seemed old enough and wise enough to hold it for me. All of this was coming back to me with such vehemence and yet I felt profoundly empty. And so I slept, gratuitously, in the middle of a Saturday still in my pajamas. 

To Be Continued...