Two Years

It didn't escape me this last Tuesday that it's been two years already since my reversion. Liturgically it's the Third Sunday of Easter, but I like noting it on the day of. :) I was just too busy that day to blog, unfortunately. The last weeks of the semester do that to you.

In a lot of ways, it feels like yesterday, but in others, I feel like it's been forever. The memories of the weeks leading up to my return are still so fresh in my mind--I had literally become Job grappling with Israel. Having been a cradle Catholic, the hardest things to accept weren't the doctrines and dogmas of the Faith, as is the case most often with converts. Those things were what I had been catechized in, no matter how weakly. What turned me upside down was the morality that I would submit myself to following my Confession. Not only was I a sinner, but I liked it that way. As cheap as the highs I got from my favorite vices may have been, I had come to define myself by them over the years. To give them up would be like giving up my identity. I didn't know how to be holy. I knew that when I crossed the Tiber I would immediately be knocked on my face with the weight of my failures. The most vivid memory of all was on the night before my reversion, as I sat in the wee hours of the morning doing my examination of conscience. I wept bitterly all through it, not just for shame, but for pride and selfishness as well. The Church was uncompromisingly right, and I knew that, but it didn't change the fact that cleaving to her was going to hurt like hell.

I'm not going to lie; it really did. The weeks immediately following my reversion were at times as turbulent as even leaving the occult had been. I had removed myself from things that I really loved, and was thrust into this "new" place with its foreign morals. I felt utterly isolated. There was no one to guide me at that point, and no one with whom I could share my struggles. My other half was not yet Catholic then, but I knew he was searching, and it was for that reason that I often felt reluctant to confide in him. It would have been easier if I had reverted at another time, sure, but I hold firm to the belief that if you wait for when you're "ready", you'll never make the the move. I truly did enter into it completely broken.

Today, my parents have more or less come to grips with my decision, and my friends and I have adopted a fairly successful live and let live attitude. Every so often, I find myself at the center of some name calling, criticism, and even downright ad hominem attacks in the classroom just recently. Do I appreciate it? Definitely not. To say I've handled my trials with complete grace and peace of mind would be foolish. Still, I hang in there when it really matters, and let my guard down in the company of those that I love.

I didn't ask for any of this, but I remember that the same holds true for Christ. We're going to have to navigate some hurdles once and a while, and some of us are burdened with more than others. I'm still trying to figure out where I fit in that scale.

Above all, He is my peace, and the Church my home. Now that I'm here, no matter what consequences it brings me, what I've found here is priceless. Regardless of what comes my way, I now have the tools to deal with hard times...particularly the blessing of being able to meet Him face-to-face in the Eucharist, to pour myself out in weakness in order to be filled again with strength.

It's been a wild ride, but one that I wouldn't trade for anything. I knew it when I knelt to pray right after my reversion, when the weight of my sins was lifted off my shoulders and suddenly, my mind stopped reeling. For four years I had searched for peace in so many things, many of them sinful and shallow. It was only when I followed Christ to Calvary in complete and not just partial obedience that I was fulfilled. Someone told me once on the journey that "The Truth isn't going to be easy to swallow. It's not about what makes you feel good."

I understand what she meant now. It's difficult at first, but given time and effort, things do settle. And when they do, you'll never be left wanting.