Old Churches...and Fate...

This weekend I went to an old Catholic church for a funeral of a great uncle who had almost made it to his 97th birthday.

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The church was unmarked on the outside. Only a large cross with a broken heart was planted near the door with a sign that read "For the Aborted Children." My husband and I had to ask some parishioners if we had the correct location. As we walked in the door it was like we were stepping back in time. The whole church felt like stuck in the late 40's. There was not a single bit of evidence of any improvements or updates. I went to a steel tank that was labeled 'holy water' and I pressed the tap to expel a small amount of water to bless myself. Old habits are hard to stop. Although I don't practice Catholicism any more, I feel a level of respect that must be paid to God and the church.

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This large statue of the Infant of Prague was on our left. This was my mom's favorite saint to pray to. I felt her spirit must be near by.

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The service was spoken in English by a Croatian priest. He looked a bit like Jimmy Kimble's parking attendant - Guillmo, and he sounded a bit like Andy Kaufman's character, Latka.

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The stain glass windows in the church were gorgeous. But seeing all the confessionals made me feel like we were in a religious prison. I was quickly reminded why I needed a different church in my life...the Catholic faith is too confining for me, too judgemental. I need to be mentally challenged, allowed to interpret the writings in the gospels, make my own choices, feel that all who worship God are good - not just those who practice like me.

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No blinders on...we are all God's people.

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Fate

I am a huge believer that things happen for a reason. A week ago while I was out walking I found a set of house keys. I thought they must belong to a child walking to and from school since I was near an elementary school when I found them.

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After contacting several of the parents whom I know have children who walk to school I decided to take the keys to the school office and go write a note on the sidewalk in chalk. While I was writing my note two men in a utility truck pulled up. I asked, half jokingly, if they lost a set of keys. The first man said no in a voice than said 'very funny' but the second man said, "as a matter of fact I did, about a week ago." He went on to describe the keys I found.

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That, my friends, is fate. It was meant to happen. I don't know why yet. Maybe that man just needed to be reminded that good is in the world. Maybe I just needed to be reminded that little actions can have big rewards. My reward was that wonderful feeling I am still having from knowing I was able to do something good for someone I don't know.