What is it about being Catholic that’s so special to me? Is it that I just needed something to latch onto, a set of rituals to make my own and embrace? Why does it seem to “correct” so much of what I always struggled with?
At Holy Thursday, battling tears and a three-year-old boy, I realized what it is.
“Communion should be our reset button,” Father said in his homily. “Sin is selfishness, and communion resets us.” (Mind you, I’m paraphrasing.)
In the last few years, I’ll be honest: I’ve had some real struggles with my faith. I would have quit. I would have walked away. I would have thrown it to the wind as a failed experiment.
But I couldn’t.
Aside from the familial pressure, there’s also the matter of the “reset” I get at every Mass.
“If it wasn’t for the Eucharist, I wouldn’t be Catholic!” I told a good friend recently. I was complaining about something-or-other and couldn’t help but see all the green grass just beyond the fence of my Catholic faith.
But you know what? It’s just fertilized differently, not better. Have I gotten so used to the green on my side of the fence that I can’t appreciate it any longer? Am I really serious when I feel like it’s all for naught?
Well yes, there is part of me that’s serious, but Drama Sarah can go back to bed. The minute she’s sitting there, at the foot of the cross with me during Mass, she’s aware of just what she needs.
And it’s not to leave.
It’s to be reset.
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