Ask, Listen, and Ask Again

As anyone who reads this blog well knows, DSB and I have been having some problems lately relating to how I have been put into a caretaker role, and my feeling that he could do some of that caretaking on his own.  So I asked him about it.  I asked him why he didn’t want to drive, why he didn’t want to fetch his own drinks and help with dinner, why (it seemed) he only wanted to sit in his chair and rot.

There were no clear answers that night, but ever since, I have not been waiting on him hand and foot (nor has he asked me to), he has stepped up and gone to the grocery store, all sorts of doctors appointments, and driven himself numerous places.  Occasionally I will still get his drink, but it’s not about that.  It’s the getting up and doing for oneself when one is, in fact, able.

I don’t know that he realized he was at that point, where he was able to tend to his own business.  I am thankful he has reached it however, and I will support him in whatever way that I can.  I feel like things are “going back to normal” for us, and that is so badly needed, by both of us.  He is contributing, financially, emotionally, physically.  I am doing the same.  We both need that.

In not-really-related news, I have been on a search for the spiritual, on and off, for the past several years.  I wanted to find MY God, a God that understood me, that I could have faith in.  I tried going to different churches and wound up with a bad taste in my mouth with most of them, other than the Catholic church.

My Dad was in the seminary for a brief period and his “smorgasbord Catholicism” (as he would call it) led him to take my sister and I to Mass a few times when we were young.  I have very fond memories of it and of Dad in that setting and in the specific church we went to.  I was not surprised when Catholicism seemed like such a perfect fit.

It was no big surprise to me when I became very interested in the Catholic church a few years ago.  I went to Mass several times with my mom’s best friend, and really enjoyed it.  Then there was a breakup and I moved and then I got really crazy.  It fell by the wayside and it was not until a short while ago that I started thinking about it.

I had read Marilyn Armstrong’s “The 12 Foot TeePee” and lay pondering it for many nights, as I worked my way through it.  It had been awhile since I had thought about spirituality or church or religion or God.  Wondering out loud one night, I knew I had to get back to Mass.  I knew that was where I belonged and I was pretty sure that God had told me that Himself.  That may sound cuckoo, but that’s how it was for me.  It was very, very clear.

Since then, I’ve been to Mass just yesterday, and just in time for all of the Lenten celebrations.  It couldn’t be a better time to be going back, and if all keeps going well, which I hope it will (and secretly, *know* it will), I am going to start RCIA classes in the Fall and formally enter the world of Catholicism next year.