What Momma Oughta Know, but Doesn’t Want to

These last few posts are among the first vocation-related in the last 2.5 months that I have written. I did not intentionally decide to ignore the discernment process. Between midterms in March and until graduation two weeks ago, I many different things going on. There was the Conference in Anaheim, which did not help me at all; there was one Sister to whom I should never have spoken with; her words felt like spiritual poison, saying that I would never properly discern and enter a community/convent if I did not take at least 6 months off of academics and work and just discern (what a luxury that must be!). I tried to ignore it, but didn’t work too well. I had graduation pictures to take a few weeks later, and I had to take off my medals (one of our Mother, and another of St. Benedict). I did not put the medals back on for a week. I’ve since learned that spiritual attacks get disgusting and nasty when I take my medals off — the kind that make want to not sleep at night. Self-induced insomnia wasn’t too fun. prayer didn’t work.


Returning to the present, it wasn’t until the Pastor Emeritus at my home parish celebrated his 50th anniversary of his ordination as a priest that I was happy again to be in discernment. Prayer’s good, but it’ll gradually become better. I’m pulling the vocation mail out from under my bed again, although it’s still hard to think of myself as possibly becoming a sister. I had a lot of introspection, a lot of indepth consideration of a friend’s doubt.

The majority of what stands in my way of becoming a sister is the stark reality of my personality, my emotions, and quirks. I wrote draft posts, then never posted. My friend said that until I could love my blood relations like I treat the homeless I fed on Skid Row every week, I wouldn’t be able to be a Sister. He said that religious life was hard work, and draining, and unless I could unconditionally love, I wouldn’t be able to take it. I see his point. He also told me a week later, in person, that there’s a lot of passion, a lot of energy in me, but also a lot of anger. I need to work on that anger.

I know that I need to forgive someone in particular, but I don’t see a consequence in her life at all. She’s blessed: a family, a wonderful neighborhood. She’s got friends and people inquire of her when I go to Mass every Sunday. She’s got more than most people have, or would think to ask of. There’s no consequence. She sins. Doesn’t care at all, and throws God out of her life like you throw the garbage out on Monday morning for the trash collector and his smelly truck. Replaces God with mimickry and falsehood. Then has the nerve to yell at me last November that the RCC is a cult. Woman, I know what a cult is better than you ever could.

But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t want to understand so many things. so many things.

Like the way she’s fanantic about her idols, I am like that towards God. The way she’s concerned about the status quo and the perfect life, I’m concerned about eternal life/damnation in the same way.

She gets upset with my attitude and tone of voice; woman now you understand what it was like to be the brunt of your disgust back when you had that job and that boss, and all those late hours. You couldn’t stand my bad grades; I can’t stand your blithe attitude towards sin – like it all don’t matter.

Two say its up to me to repair the relationship. Their idea of repairing the relationship is to just go along with whatever she says. She might say “you don’t have to go to church, you’re already saved,” I go anyway. She might drag me to her voodoo and make me participate, but you could read the ridicule and disbelief on my face. She might not like the rosary, the chaplet to St. Michael, and the statue of Mary surrounded by dried flowers, and I just add more flowers, prayer cards, and holy water in vials.

I don’t care about what you want, desire in this life. It’s not about you. It’s about God. God gives and He takes away. You cannot decide to just take, and think there’s no consequence. But God’s forgiving, and I’m not. Maybe judgment day will come and He decides that He loves her, and there’s no consequence for her. So I don’t like her, I don’t forgive her, I don’t love her very much. Hard to love someone who thinks abortion’s okie-dokie and only Catholic on paper, a mere technicality, a blip on a baptismal record and a confirmation record and a marriage license.

There is a Hell.

There is a Heaven.

I’m trying to make my way to Heaven, but woman you make it so darn difficult with your sin and your idols and your concern for the World.

You love the status quo. I fear what you’ll do and think and say when you find out that I don’t want a part of it. All I want is your approval but I’ll never get it.

I’m Catholic, you think it’s unattractive.
I’m Catholic, you think it’s a cult.
I’m Catholic, you think you don’t have to make sacrifices for Faith & Love.

I’m Catholic, and I believe in a Hell and a Heaven that is more than just a symbolic removal from God. I’m trying to work towards one, and you just blindly slide toward the other, but you don’t care.

You don’t care.