Weird feels

This post is actually making me uncomfortable, because I'm awkward about gratitude.  It's not that I'm not thankful for things - I am.  It's just that as a weird defense mechanism type thing, I associate being outwardly grateful for things as a vulnerability or something.  It's like if I admit I'm thankful for something, especially something given to me by others or by God or by the world, etc, I admit that I'm not the only one who can make me happy, which means I'm not in total control, which also means other people can make me sad.  I don't know.  Weird.  I mean, I'm conscious of all this, and in my mind I am actually overwhelmed sometimes by how much gratitude I feel for certain things and certain people, but it's like once I say it out loud, I open up to other people, and that's never been something I'm good at.  Weird feels.  But here goes, because this is necessary and I don't think I convey enough to anyone that I am really thankful for things/people. 

Yesterday someone told me, "You have a lot to be thankful for this year." 

I nodded, but on the inside, I kind of just rolled my eyes. 

In the last year, I moved into an apartment that ended up having extensive water damage and mice.  I lost about $1800 in the process, and ended up sleeping on my friends' couch for a month.  I was stranded in the south for a couple of months, and then I was stressed to the max trying to find a job and an apartment.  Then I found a job and an apartment, but I was all, "Wah, I hate living alone," and, "Wah, this job sucks."  And yes, I hate living alone and the job doesn't make my soul dance, but it hasn't been all bad, and I do have things to be thankful for. 

While the job isn't great and causes a ton of stress and makes my butt hurt because I drive so much and I get called names daily because the position is a part of "Obamacare," it comes with awesome health coverage.  I haven't had health insurance since my second year of high school, which really sucks because I have serious health issues and now I have seven years worth of medical bills hurting my credit.  I'm talking thousands of dollars in debt.  But what has really concerned me was the actual health problems, and because of this job, I can deal with them now.  A couple of years ago, I had an appendectomy and the surgeons saw that I had severe endometriosis.  But because I didn't have insurance, I couldn't get it taken care of.  No medicine, no surgery, not even an appointment with a specialist.  Seeing as endometriosis can cause infertility, this has been pretty distressing.  I may not love my job, but I love that I can go see a doctor now.  I have other health issues, but that's the one that upsets me the most, and without the job I wouldn't have any hope of treatment.  I'm thankful that I do now.

And that new apartment?  It's wonderful.  And in a couple weeks, my roommate will be there and I won't have to hate living alone any more.  There's still a bunch of stuff I need for it, but I mean there's a bed and heaters and that's good.  And it's not in the south.  That too.  I'm grateful for that.

In May, I graduated from college.  That was a shocker for me and I'm pretty sure it shocked most of the people I'm closest to, also.  I'm thankful for the opportunity to go to school (and I look forward to fighting for free education so no one else has to graduate with $40,000 in loans) and I'm thankful for the people who helped me get through it all.

Over the last few months, I've been going to church and have had nothing but good experiences there.  It's a big, warm, welcoming community, and I'm thankful for that.

I'm grateful for the people who help me out when I need it.  As another defense mechanism type thing, I almost make it difficult for people to help me, but I've been surrounded by people who (metaphorically) slap me upside the head and make me accept help and not be all lame about it.  The other day, I was sick, and I actually called a friend, crying and all, to come help me.  Progress! 

And as someone with a family that isn't really fond of me, I'm super grateful for the people who treat me like family despite not being biological.  It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. 

So there we have it.  Not well articulated, but those are the things I'm thankful for right now.  Oh, and my pie making ability.  There aren't many things I'm good at, but I can do these type of things wonderfully:



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Charlotte

Goings On

So I guess I took a one month vacay from blogging.  Except instead of a vacation, my last month has been hellish and all sorts of awful.  

Unemployment is terrible.  For a few weeks, I was all, "Yeah!  I'm gonna read all the books!  I'm gonna go to all the museums!  I'm gonna do all the things!"  But after some time, that gets old.  Being alone for ten hours a day gets old.  And so I started getting all depressed and crappy and did a lot of sleeping and a lot of headache-having.  Hmph.  Don't feel too bad.  The blog was not the only thing I neglected.  I haven't worked on my book in I don't know how long.  

But then something miraculous happened.  I got a job.  An actual job with a salary and excellent health benefits.  A job that means no more days consisting of ten hours of solitude.  I can't say where or my exact position, but it has to do with the Affordable Care Act.  Cool stuff.  This is how I feel about it:

But then I was like, ah money problems.  Paying student loans, car payments, etc, is not going to be super easy even with el job.  So instead of walking around like that picture of Robert all day, I slept some more.  And on the same day my account was accidentally overdrawn, I got an email about said loans, found out I'd have to pay more for my commute than I thought, and broke my pair of boots that are appropriate for any occasion, rendering me useless.  So I slept some more.  But then I got my shit together and was back to being grateful for a job.  

Despite said inertia, I've managed to accomplish some things over the last month.  For starters, I finally finished the Fellowship.  Yeah yeah!  I'm on to The Two Towers right now, and I'm about half way through.  I've also held myself to my promise of going to church everyday.  

And I've really enjoyed it.  

But, back to bloggy business.  

1. Future posts.  Man.  So I really have thought a lot about different posts I can do about Catholicism, I just haven't done it.  (Inertia, remember?)  So my plans are, over the next week, to write at least one post about why I started to get back into Catholicism and started going to church again, and to write at least two other posts.  I think one is going to be about abortion because I've been wanting to write about it for a while.  We shall see.  

2. Books.  I'm going to set weekly goals for reading and throw those goals up on this bad boy for some sense of accountability.  

This week's readin': 

"Three books?!"  Yeah, no.  I've read Confucius but I want to do a quick reread.  And I'm halfway through Towers.  So really it's not too bad.  I'm also planning on reading Unions, Labor Law, and Collective Bargaining by Allen Smith on Minerva, el kindle.  But it's not a hefty read, it sounds like more of a guide.  

So look out for one of those upcoming posts!  I'm off to sleep. ...before 9pm. ...at age 22.  

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Charlotte

Slapped in the Face by an Eight Year Old & The Baby NSA

So I've mentioned that I work at a before school program.  Glorified babysitter, basically, though I try to be mindful about it and you know.. teach/show them things.  I've gotten better at thinking about what I say before I say it, since we all know little kids are secretly listening to everything everyone around them says and storing it for later.  They're like the baby version of the NSA. 

This whole being mindful and encouraging and pointing out the good in each kid started last year.  

I felt absolutely awful after a conversation my coworker and I had with a few kids.  One of them asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up, and since we both really couldn't answer, we sassed it up.

"Fabulous."

"Awesome."

"Skinny."

Eek.  It kills me that I said that.  It kind of just became my coworker and I joking with each other, and it came out.  (I believe we had been talking about working out and stuff that morning, so it was in my mind.)

What I forgot was the rest of the audience.  A bunch of little kids, some girls, hearing someone they look up to say that a great life ambition was to be skinny.  I can't explain how crappy I felt about it after I said it.  From that point on, I made a huge effort to watch what I say and to be a big ball of positive for them.  Half the time I'm super stressed about my life so I am totally faking my happy go lucky attitude, but "fake it til you make it," right?? 

So the other day at work, we put on some music.  One Direction.  I was jamming out of course.  But, I was purposely making my voice sound ridiculous, like I always do if I'm singing in front of people.  A little girl said something sassy about me not becoming a famous singer, and I laughed and said, "Hey!  When I was younger I actually could sing.  I was in select choir and everything!  I can still be famous if I want!"  When she asked me why I stopped singing and stuff, I was like, "Well, I never had a lot of confidence in myself, and it got worse as I got older."  

Then I told her that her killer diller confidence is my favorite thing about her and that she should stay that way and never be afraid to do something she feels is right for her. 

And that's when I got slapped in the face by an eight year old boy.  (Not actually, physically slapped.)  He was sitting across the table from us and he threw his hands in the air and shook his head all crazy-like and made a "WHAT?!?!" face and said, "How can you tell us that?  Why don't you have confidence in yourself?!" 

Which is when I gave some half-ass response and made a joke, since laying on the floor and throwing a tantrum and saying "I don't knoooooow, it's not my fault!  Leave me alone!" wasn't an option. 

Really though, it's something I'm working on.  The fact that I am even writing this encounter on here shows me that.  I probably should have given him a better answer. 

Really though, sometimes I think kids are way smarter than us.

And since I wanted to include a picture, enjoy this throwback.  My cousin and I were so cool.  He passed away doing something he loved.  I think a lot of us need to remember to do what we want more often.

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Charlotte

"Shoot me if I ever go past a size 4" - The Fat Problem

I actually wrote this yesterday, but didn't get a chance to post it.  Before I do, I just want to repeat this gem I just overheard in the library:

"Why do you lick people so much?"

"I don't know, just a habit." 

Um.  Alright then.  On to the post. 

It's pretty common for people to write about how unhealthy today's beauty standards are.

"Not everyone is a size zero."

"It's not safe to be that skinny unless it's how you're naturally built."

"People are too obsessed with weight; health is what matters."

True, but problematic.  At least that last one.  I read this article the other day, and it points out that "health" is something to strive for, but it's always paired with thinness.  The well -meaning ads that promote health over weight only ever picture super thin women.  And that's a problem. 

As I was writing my lousy intro post a few days ago, I overheard some girls talking.  "Size six is way too high for anyone.  If I ever get past a size four, take me out back and shoot me," said one of them.

My initial thought upon hearing this may or may not have been, "How 'bout I just take you out back and shoot you now for that comment?  Sheer stupidity."  But then my less sarcastic, more civilized mind was just sad.  I mean sure, the girl wasn't exactly displaying even a small amount of intelligence.  But more than thinking she was ridiculous, I was just sad for her and mad at society.  Because really, size matters very little. 

Yes, there is such a thing as unhealthy size.  I know this because I've been there for a while.  I also know two other things.  One, it's up to a person to decide whether or not she cares about her weight.  Really, it's a personal choice.  (Though the fact that that health is reserved for folks with money is a societal choice and an outrage.)

Secondly, size has almost nothing to do with weight or health.  When I was in shape, playing on a sports team, and active, I was 175 pounds.  I was considered overweight.  If I really wanted to, I could have lost another ten pounds, still technically being overweight.  And size 6?  I was a size 12-14.  I could run a mile without a problem.  I wore a two piece bathing suit.  I was healthy.   And I was eight sizes above that girl's cut off point. 

Then yesterday there was a group of about eight to ten people having dinner.  (I people watch.  don't judge.)  When a guy asked his girlfriend if she wanted another piece of pizza, her friend exclaimed, "You're going to make her fat!"

I cringed at that. 

Now, you should probably care at least a little bit about what you put into your body.  But the amount of food you eat should be based on one thing: hunger.  If you are hungry, eat.  If not, don't. 

...Unless it's cheesecake.  There is always room for cheesecake. 

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Charlotte

Readin' Stuffs and Gender Norms

Prepare for a bunch of thoughts - some good and some not - all thrown together and mixed up.  Maybe if I start outlining my blogs I can form a coherent message.  But really who wants that?

So back in July, I posted this gem of a book list.  It was very ambitious and had so many great books to choose from.  And I started to read some of them.  I read some more of Everything Happens Today.  (So good.  So slow.)  I took a gander at Nathaniel Philbrick's stuff.  I read a bit of Red China Blues. 

But mostly, I neglected the list and read other books.  Namely, The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring.  

Let me tell you, I was a fool for never reading Lord of the Rings.  A fool.  I always kind of shook off any idea of reading it because it was in the sci-fi/fantasy section.  "I am not into sci-fi and fantasy."  And really, I usually do enjoy other genres more.  But I think my distaste for it started right around the time my inability to do math started: middle school. 

In retrospect, I don't think I had anything against science or math.  I don't think I was inherently bad at either.  Sure, I enjoyed social studies and English way, way more.  But the idea that I sucked at math and science (and therefore couldn't possibly enjoy sci-fi or fantasy), I think that was an idea I gave in to, not an idea I conjured.  

I was alright in science class.  I am just fine at math, thank you very much.  Those subjects don't make my soul dance quite like sociology does (Except astronomy.  Astronomy is out of this world. AHAHAHA, SEE WHAT I DID THERE?).  But I manage.  And I have absolutely no reason not to venture over into the fantasy section when I'm looking at books.  The idea is absurd. 

This is coming out all sorts of jumbled and unorganized, but that's my life right now so I'm gonna roll with it.  I wanted to write about what I'm reading, and then I realized what I'm reading is what I've stayed away from for years, because I was told to.  When kids get to that vulnerable (and hella awkward) age where they just want to fit in and be cool and have friends, they go with the crowd.  I'm not saying this is good or anything, just that it happens.  And it seems like adults, probably unknowingly, go along with the gender norm thing.  I can't count the amount of times I've heard, "Boys are just better at math and science, and girls are better at social studies and English."  And that's sad, and detrimental to kids and to society. 

Now probably, this is because men were the ones who went to work and paid the bills and went to school and women stayed home.  They were the bankers, the teachers, the doctors, the scientists, the engineers.  Women were the moms.  Now, it's incredibly hard work to be a mom, and I am like in awe of parents who take care of their kids.  I'm not dissing parenting and especially not stay at home moms, as long as it's what you feel you are meant to do, not what the government or society wants you to do.  I think math and science were the subjects geared to work (or, what the capitalist society calls "work,") and thus were thrown into the box labeled "manly," whereas the social sciences and literature - you know, the fields of study deemed "useless" by capitalist America - are given to girls. 

He's not choking her.  Really.

I have like 23847 younger siblings.  These three are in kindergarten, first, and fifth grade.  I hate the idea that those girls will never pick up Lord of the Rings because someone told them they weren't meant to like science or fantasy.  I hate the idea of that boy not picking up Little Women for fear of being mocked. 

I don't know that these gender norms are changing;  I work with kids in a before school program, and the older kids seem to be falling into these categories.  It isn't a good thing for souls or for society.

And so instead of this being a post about how awesome my reading lately has been, this turned into a post about gender norms.  We need to tear them down.  I want my sisters to read The Hobbit before bed and then have dreams that they're going on epic adventures all night.  If they choose to not read it, that'll be fine, so long as it's really their choice.   

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Charlotte

It's Gettin' Real Up in Here

Okay, since today was my least favorite day of the year (election day), I am writing the shortest post ever.  I need to recuperate from poll watching and phone banking. 

So instead of anything fancy, I'm just going to announce that I finally started getting real about writing my first book.  I mean, I've jotted stuff down before.  But this is different. 

I'm someone who needs to be super organized about this.  Outlines and such.  So I've got lists and categories of characters and themes and all that jazz.  And today, I sat down for an hour and wrote three character descriptions, each a page long. 

This probably sounds like nothing, but I've been talking about it for years, so those three pages have got me pretty stoked. 

I think this may be all I do tomorrow. 

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Charlotte

Beat the Sun

I know some of you enjoyed the previous post and the "Catholic thing."  Me too. 

And I know I said I'd write more about it, and I will.  But as a fair warning, this is so much less exciting than that post.  Hopefully something a little more meaningful will pop into my brain tomorrow. 

I am far too lazy and tired to search for it now, but I once read a quote from someone famous (one of the founders, maybe) about waking early.  This person got up and out of bed before sunrise every day.  I decided I'd do that, too. 

Now, if you are a completely functional human being with no mental problems, this might mean nothing. 

If you are like me, and are a more... unique person, read on. 

My friends think I am psychotic for waking up around 5am every morning.  Probably rightfully so.  But it's good for me.  When I was younger I'd go to school basically as soon as it opened.  I beat the teachers there half the time.  Being in school was better than being in my house.  When I got to college I still had the habit of getting up early, so I would kind of just get up and read or walk around or I don't know, look at trees until people got up.  I never did anything productive in the AM though.  Just hung around. 

But then, like a million different things went wrong, which pissed me off because I had told myself I went through enough bad crap and that the rest of my life was going to be smooth sailing.  HA.

I basically spent the next couple of years doing nothing other than eating and sleeping, and going to class maybe once a week, tops.  Occasionally I'd read for fun.  I watched The West Wing a lot.  A lot. 

This very accurately describes how I felt all the time.



And then finally I started to get my act together (sorta kinda).  For a while now, I've made it a point to try and get up by 5am every morning.  And when I follow through with it, getting up before the sun works wonders for me.  No joke. 

First of all, watching the day start.  Just think about that.  A whole new day that will never be here again and you get to witness it's arrival.  (If you're being all shkaveetzy right now and saying, "noooo, it started at 12," shush.)  That is pretty cool stuff.  And it's pretty.  Really pretty. 

So pretty, in fact, that all they could come up with as a name for this spot was "Pretty Place."  Those are mountains with clouds all over the place.  What I like to call "Care Bear Huntin' Conditions."

Second, I don't just hang around when I wake up anymore.  On weekdays I go to work and believe me, playing dodge ball or making a craft is like, the best way ever to start a day.  As long as I also have coffee.  On weekends, I go somewhere I'll have to interact with people because really, people are great and I need to stop acting like everyone annoys me and isolating myself.  Beyond that, sometimes I'll read or write, and at least once a day, I go for a walk.  Literally nothing calms me down more than walking around through a nice park.  Well except Percocet, but that's a whole different subject...

So there you have it.  By 6pm I am exhausted, which is good because I have trouble getting to sleep unless I am completely wiped out.  Now, it's pretty much because I want my brain to function and to not slip backwards mental health-wise.  Not that I don't love The West Wing, but that's not what I need to be doing all day, you feel me?  So probably not everyone needs to get up early every day (though I recommend doing it sometimes), and maybe it's not the most practical thing ever, but for now it works.  Without fail, when I get up at 5am and pack my days, I feel way more accomplished and happier at the end of them. 

And that is good.

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Charlotte

Catholics and Lion King

This is totally a post that starts as an intro and turns into a thing about my first time at church in seven+ years.  Because I am hella good at organization and stuff.

Alright.  I’ve tried blogging for a while.  I think I’ve had maybe four blogs so far; I had a political blog with some friends, another I literally never even made a post for, and then two more that I wrote on a bit but that didn’t quite feel right. 

Part of my blogging problem is that I’m basically a wimp.  I don’t like the idea of writing and then one of my friends or even someone I don’t know seeing what I wrote and disliking anything.  This is stupid, I know.  I often tell my little brothers and sisters, as well as the kids at work, “be brave” and “don’t worry about what other people think” …. Yet I struggle to write a blog that maybe five people read.  I like to blame it on other people, too.  Like hey, my parents sucked and gave me horrible self-esteem, so it isn’t my fault I can’t write el blog.  Or but, I don’t want to write something that will hurt someone’s feelings.  But I’m trying to get over blaming people and suck it up and just stick to actually writing a blog.  I’ve changed my whole daily routine and regular activities and stuff just to stop myself from getting in a rut.  Part of the plan is to keep this blog going FOREVER.    

That said, I suck at first blog posts.  Like the ones where you must describe yourself and declare your purpose for writing.  A nod to my hatred for such posts, I’m going to list the things people want to know instead of artistically weaving them into a paragraph:

(I admit I got a friend to tell me what qualifies as “things people want to know in a blog introduction.”)   

This is me (although this pic is old, but whatever):

You know how to know that's old?  Other than the completely different hair style and the fact that this is me 60 pounds ago?  That right there is a soda.  Thankfully, it now would be a… “better” beverage.

Name: Charlotte

Age: 22

School: Just graduated from The University at Albany.  My diploma is hung nicely on my wall in my office at work.  Ha, just kidding.  It is sitting in an envelope in my car as I search for work.  Life.

Work: See above?  Although I do work a part time job as a counselor at a before school program.  It’s terrific.  And I do a lot of progressive political stuff. 

Location: New York, baby. 

Religion: Catholic.  This is a new thing.  No, actually, it’s an old thing.  I went to church a few times as a kid.  I’ve been confirmed and all that, but other than a few Ash Wednesdays, I haven’t been to church in maybe seven or eight years.  Until today.  (More on that in a minute.)  I’ve struggled with Catholicism and my own understanding of it for a while.  I’ve been reading more about it via blogs and websites and stuff lately, and I like what I’m seeing (which surprised me).

What kind of stuff will be on the blog: Lots, hopefully.  On my old blogs I’d do occasional book lists and book reviews, and those got a quite a few views.  Twice I wrote posts called “Because They Said So” where I talked about some of the funny things the kids at work would say, and those were popular.  So I want to continue doing those since they’re fun to write and pretty easy.  I plan to write about the whole Catholic thing (I’m assuming I’ll have stuff to write about as I try to re-learn it and experience it).  I also want to write some on political and social things.  But who knows?

Goals: Um.  Well on a larger, humanity-level scale, I’m hoping to see a revolution in the next few years, and I want to be a part of it.  On a personal level, I want to write novels, so we shall see.  I mean I also have hopes as far as like family and a house and a garden go, but that stuff requires two people, yes? 

Favorite color:  I actually highly doubt anyone cares about what color I like, but it’s green. 

Favorite book:  Is it lame for the answer to this to be Harry Potter?

Okay, now since that’s over.  I said I’d get back to the Catholic thing and going to church for the first time in seven years today, so I will. 

A little background, I’ve been thinking about Catholicism a lot, and for several reasons that require a whole separate blog post.  So I’ll try to write that bad boy this week. 

But one thing I need to share because it played a role today is this little piece of paper I keep in my pocket every day.  Every day.  If I wear something that doesn’t have pockets, it’s in my wallet.  It’s a page ripped from a book called Grace for the Moment by Max Lucado (I think it’s Volume 1).  It’s the entry for April 20, and it’s titled “The Fire of Your Heart.”  It has this written on it:

My God, I want to do what you want.

Your teachings are in my heart.

Psalm 40:8

(Hence the title of this blog.)

Under that it reads:

Want to know God’s will for your life?  Then answer this question: What ignites your heart?  Forgotten orphans?  Untouched nations?  The inner city?  The outer limits?

Heed the fire within!

Do you have a passion to sing?  Then sing!  Are you stirred to manage?  Then manage!  Do you ache for the ill?  Then treat them!  Do you hurt for the lost?  Then teach them!

As a young man I felt the call to preach.  Unsure if I was correct in my reading of God’s will for me, I sought the counsel of a minister I admired.  His counsel still rings true.  “Don’t preach,” he said, “unless you have to.”

As I pondered his words I found my answer: “I have to.  If I don’t, the fire will consume me.”

What is the fire that consumes you?

I carry this around for two reasons.  One, as a reminder for myself.  Two, I think it sums up what I (and many of my friends) fight for every day.  You know how sometimes you look at something, or hear something, or think of something, and it literally stirs your soul?  The only way I can think to describe it is similar to when something gives you chills… multiplied by like a million.  I think when someone feels that way (“the fire in your heart”), they should be able to act on it.  “Wait, how does this relate to what you fight for?”  I think what folks are fighting for is essentially a better livelihood for everyone.  When we’re trying to rid the world of poverty or reform education, it’s not just for fun.  It’s because poverty and poor education (among many other social issues) hold people back.  If you feel in your soul that God (or the universe, or whatever you call it) wants you to do something, that you were meant to do something, then nothing should stop you.  I watched an interview where Neil deGrasse Tyson said the universe called him… that he was meant to be a scientist, to study the stars.  He said it brings tears to his eyes.  It is really very difficult to answer any calling when you’re living in poverty and you don’t have access to quality education that will help you “heed the fire,” and when you have to work 80 hours a week to survive.  It is actually very possible to create a society that supports all its people and their dreams. 

(This is where I’d normally go on an anti-capitalist, anti-giant government wed to big corporations telling you how to live rant, but since I said it relates to church, I’ll save that.)

So yesterday I decided I was going to go to this Catholic church that I was told is pretty progressive for a church. 

Fast forward to 6am today, and I am like, “Uh, I can just go next week.”  But then I’m like, Charlotte, no.  You’re going. 

Okay, fine.  But I don’t need to get up and get dressed and leave yet.

Sure.  So I laid in bed for the next hour and a half making myself nervous to go to church.  (Really there is no reason to be nervous about going to church, but I am not always a reasonable person.)  Then 7:30 rolled around, and I was like, oh, I can wait a few minutes.  7:40.  7:45.  Finally at ten to 8, I got up and got dressed.  Since I had a brain fart and forgot to lay out my clothes and then forgot that church is something you probably don’t wear a Captain America t-shirt to, I had to change in my car.  Luckily, I had an appropriate shirt in my car.  I actually love the shirt and was all, “Oh man, I hope I don’t start a sex riot,” when I looked at myself in the rearview.  And then I remembered I was going to church and maybe probably shouldn’t think about things like sex riots.  Possibly. 

But anyway.  So I find some on-street parking and walk to the church.  When I get about 100 feet away, I’m all, “oh no.  Noooooooooooo no.  It’s 8:32.  I’m two minutes late.  I can’t go.”  Excuses galore, my friends.  But remember the little page I have in my pocket?  I was like, “courage, Charlotte!  This desire has been bugging you for a while.”  (Also it is completely embarrassing admitting that I need “courage” for the littlest of things, but whatever.) 

And so I went.  And since one friend felt sick and another had something come up, I was alone.  Which is fine, because I’m really exceptional at being awkward in public, so standing in the back and then finally sitting in the very last row and not participating in any of the singing (maybe I’ll look at the music book next weekend, I said.) or out-loud praying and just playing with my hands came really easy to me.  But, I did pay attention, and aside from feeling a bit awkward, I liked it. 

Now, they changed a lot since I last went.  Like, when the priest said “may peace be with you,” I was all “oh heck yeah!  Familiarity!  I know this!”  And said, “and also with you!”  ….while everyone else said something else.  Damn. 

But let me tell you.  It was a welcoming place.  I remember church as kind of scary and really, really boring.  Since I’m old enough to understand what’s being said, it really wasn’t at all boring.  And maybe those scary, judgmental people I remember were just like that, and it wasn’t the church’s doing.  Or maybe it was but the church has changed.  I don’t know. 

And since you now know I am into politics and social stuff, you can understand why I was super excited to hear that we were praying for Syria (for wisdom for President Obama and for different actors in Syria).  We prayed to “open our own hearts, for courage to open our minds and our country to migrants.”  And that was when I was pretty much sold. 

Now obviously I forgot that we’re asked to give money.  I don’t have a problem with it, but I am hella broke right now and was like, “goodbye, dollar bill.  Do good.”  Weep. 

But then was the cherry on top, so to speak.  A baby was being baptized.  Now I don’t know if it’s normal for this to happen at mass all the time or what, but when I was little, I never witnessed a baptism at mass.  I have been to ceremonies where like 10 babies were baptized.  Where baptism was the purpose.  So it was a pleasant surprise to me.  For starters, aw, baby.  But then on top of that, the whole community welcoming a new little member was almost too much for me to handle.  Almost cried my eyes out.  (I mean in all fairness, it’s something about humans coming together that gets me.  I’ve been to quite a few rallies and marches, and I tear up every time.)  But it was just really beautiful and exciting and precious and meaningful and I was like, huh, wonder if God made me come today because this kid was going to get baptized and He knew it would move me and be symbolic and all that.  I almost broke down when the priest held the little boy up for the whole place to see.  It was actually very much like this:

(Image found at fanpop.  idk)

Not even being sarcastic, that’s what it was like.  And then everyone applauded, genuinely happy to welcome this new little person to their community.  And then I was a big ball of d’awwwwwww. 

And then we did the whole “peace be with you,” with everyone standing around you, and I could see it in their faces and eyes that they were genuinely wishing and praying for everyone to be at peace.  I too, would genuinely be wishing that if I weren’t standing there all dopey-like and flabbergasted by these wonderful people. 

And then I was all, I’m coming back next week, you guys. 

__
Charlotte