The Blue Hairs

As I was scrambling to clear the breakfast dishes, in order to get out the door on time, I said, "Hurry Cosette, you need to get your things for school, and hop into the truck with Daddy.  I'm going to church."

She stopped dead in her tracks, looked at my directly, and replied, "Well, that's RARE."

I love it when my kids totally call me out.

Catholicism and I have such a twisted relationship.  It is and always be home to me in so many ways.  I dig the JC, and feel kindred with the Mother Mary.  When I am exhausted at the end of the day, and saying prayers with the girls, I love how I can just mindlessly recite the Our Father, or the Hail Mary.

 And yet, by the same token, in so many ways, I fight this religion tooth and nail, questioning EVERYthing.  Sunday is FAMILY day, and I don't really want to go to church.  Besides, I feel closest to God when I'm outside hiking, or running, or drinking wine.  And this whole reconciliation thing:  REALLY? Come on.  Can't I just go directly to the source, and ask for forgiveness?  Like, why do we have to have a Menage a Trois, with the priest?

You know who attends Mass religiously (no pun intended), smack dab in the middle of the week at 8 AM?  Yeah, well neither did I until a few days ago:  OLD people.  Retired folks.  Blue hairs.  Single oldies and couple oldies.  Nun oldies.  Shawl wearing oldies.  Trouser donning oldies.  Not many people under the age of 70 were in attendance: unless you count me, and like one other dude, who was pushing 60.

There are some definite perks to attending at this time:

1)  You are IN and OUT, having the body and the blood of the Son of God,  in 30 minutes, flat.  Yep, you read that right.  No singing and going on and on like on Sunday.  No "Lean to the left, Lean to the right, Stand up, Sit down, Fight, Fight Fight!" for 60 minutes. Mass during the week is extremely efficient.

And 2) While sharing the sign of Peace, the  oldies don't even move from their spot to shake your hand.  They just sorta make minimal eye contact, nod, and like wave at you, while whispering "Peace".  I mean, I don't even have to move; this is a definite plus at 8 AM, I must say.

Let me explain by stating that I have felt off kilter for awhile.  I have been hearing the call to return.  Perhaps it's because in the past year, a few really shitty things have happened: my Foxy mama was diagnosed with Lung Cancer.  After enduring 4 aggressive rounds of Chemo, and 1 extremely invasive surgery in which part of her lung was removed, the fucking Cancer came back.  Can you believe that Mother Fucker, Cancer?

Right after this, I discovered more disheartening news.  Do you have a friend who just always has your back?  No matter what you were doing - legal, illegal, this person would be right there by your side, convincing the judge that you were both innocent?  Well, my very good and loyal friend, who fits this description, and happens to be only FORTY years old, and happily married with 2 small kiddos, was diagnosed with Breast Cancer.  Shortly after that, my other girlfriend got news while standing in my kitchen on a Friday night, HER Mama had Lung Cancer. WTF????

All of this news had  left me feeling, hopeless, anxious, frustrated, and sad.

I've been threatening for awhile now that I'm going to write a book titled "Fuck Cancer"  You open it, and the next page would read, The End.

So, there I was struggling, questioning, exhausted...I decided it was time to go back to church.  That this thing, called "life" and all that goes with it, was just too much for me to bear.

I'm a pretty positive person, but I had gotten down.  Like enough, to realize that I may be headed towards depression.  Like, very close to calling my doc, and asking for the med hook up.  Half of my family is medicated already, so what's one more, right?

I made a few vows to myself to try to turn it around:

1.  Be honest with myself and Tom about my feelings.
2.  Take care of myself by eating healthy, drinking moderately, getting 7-8 hours of sleep each night, taking my vitamins, and moving my body in some way, shape, or form at least 5-6 days of the week.
3.  Giving up negative self talk.
4.  Going to Mass with the oldies if I can swing it during the week.  Not because I "should", but because I want to, to pray for Foxy, and my girlfriend.  And pray for my Dad and my brothers and their families.  Pray that we will endure what is coming next with patience and acceptance.  Pray for my girls and Tom, that they accept and understand Mama is just a little lost, right now.

Last Friday, after Mass ended, we waited for the Father to walk out.  That never happened; I'm not sure if he used a secret trap door to escape, or what, but he never walked down the aisle.  And if you're Catholic, you know that you wait for the Priest to exit out of respect, and leave after him.  So there I was, kind of waiting, when this group of about 15 die hard oldies, start praying the Rosary aloud.

There I was: caught with the oldies talking to Mary and such. "I can't get up and leave NOW.  That would be awkward," I thought to myself.  But let me tell you, after 30 more minutes of prayer, I was thinking, Mary would totally be down with me leaving and going for my run.

So I did.  It was a beautiful day that the Lord hath made.  He was telling me, "Michelle, rejoice and exercise!"