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My great grandmother is the person who taught me how to pray. She was a very Godly woman and would pray every night before going to sleep. She could no longer kneel beside her bed so she would sit on the edge and say her evening prayers. During the summers when I would stay with her I would lay quietly on my side of the bed listening to her gentle whispering, waiting for her to finish. (more…)

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Rebirth

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This evening I was reading Tim Glass’s blog. He has a wonderful series that describes his life and conversion to Catholicism. I loved reading it because he and I have a lot of things in common – I won’t go into everything right now – but it made me remember how exciting and awesome (and not in the surfer dude way) becoming a Catholic was for me. I still get goose bumps about it sometimes. I have often thought that “cradle Catholics,” if they’re not careful, can take so much of their faith for granted. When I came in, it was all-new. I look around wide-eyed and want to know about EVERYTHING! The statues, the nuns, the candles, the liturgy, the feast days, the vestments . . . everything is fascinating, but most of all I love it all because it all means SOMETHING! I find that so satisfying.

Sometimes when I go to Mass, I still feel a bit like a stranger – it’s my own doing – I feel like everyone around me knows what’s going on with everything and I’m the only one who loses their place in the missal, or forgets what saint that statue is . . . of course it’s all my imagination. Then even in my strangeness I feel comforted. When I kneel to pray and smell the incense, it’s like I’ve been gone for a long time and just got back and found everything just the way I’d left it, I’d only forgotten some of the details.

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