Jeans Fit

The hole broke through a few days back, my right knee poking though one of the last pair of intact jeans in my closet. No surprise, given their age and the floor time they see from me, but disappointing. They weren't favorites (that pair is threadbare but intact), they weren't fancy (Lands' End basics from a few years back), but they were without holes, and they fit. I've been a few years hoping jeans that fit would magically appear in my closet, but no luck. My mail-order solution of ordering a new pair each year broke down when Lands' End changed their styles to ones that must fit the rest of women in the Northern Hemisphere but don't fit me.

I'm not a shopping fan. There was a point in my life when I sought opportunities to get to the mall, but no longer. A dear friend agreed to accompany me on this quest, a shopping task I ranked lower only than shopping for bathing suits and bras. After trips to Eddie Bauer (too long and wide), Ann Klein (how low can jeans go?), and The Limited (lower, I guess!), we ended up at GapKids. On the boys' side.

It's time to admit that I'm shaped like my father, straight up and down, no hips. No problems birthing babies, but no hips to hold up those low pants that fill the racks these days. I'm not looking for sympathy, but it's been a frustrating few years in the pants department for the straight-yet-female set, thus why my need for jeans has grown so acute and my desire to shop is lower than usual. The girls' department works to some degree, but I'm not the embroidered-flower-around-the-ankle-type, so the choices are limited. The clerks were helpful with sizing but somewhat bemused. I, however, was relieved to have found Jeans That Fit, my holy grail. I left with just one pair, carpenter jeans with rather cute front pockets, no holes, and a great fit. I am slightly curious whether I'll see my son's friends in identical pants(and rather certain they won't notice), and fully delighted to have found jeans that fit this hipless chick.

Mass Effects (Part III)

I thought I'd prepped the boys for communion, but it's a challenge to adequately prepare a seven-year-old for a ritual like that without his memory of communions past to assist him. Last summer's water communion at our UU church bore no resemblance to the Catholic Church's version!

As the priest invited up those helping serve communion, I bent toward my younger, explaining that we'd sit down while the others processed forward to receive the bread and wine.

"Why do they get bread and we don't?" my constantly hungry and fair-minded child inquired.

"Catholics believe in transubstantiation -- that the bread and wine transforms into the body and blood of Jesus. We're not Catholics, so we're not invited to join since we don't believe the same thing," was my initial response, drawing a curious look from my son. Encouraged by his interest, my whispered lesson continued,"Other Christians believe the bread and wine simply remind one of Jesus, and most will allow others outside their faith to join in communion."

He continued to search my face for more information. "Sit down, and let the others go by." This seemed to be the information he needed most. He sat, and we let others pass by into the communion line.

While I'm not sure he gave a whit about my delineation between the variations of Christian beliefs and bread, body, wine, and blood, he did learn that we were to watch, and he was okay with his role as observer rather than participant. I sat back, sang along with the congregation, and joined him as observer. Since my movement away from Catholicism through the Episcopal church and on to Unitarian Universalism, I've attended only a few other masses, and those were funeral masses. Those times, most of the congregation sat through communion, and those times, I had my grief as my focus and communion was in the background. Explaining the sacrament clarified for me how complete my movement away from Catholicism is. I no longer identify with that tradition, yet its presence in my past shapes and colors my present faith. I sense nothing lost by my conversion yet so much gained by the richness of my past.

Mass Effects (Part II)

It's like riding a bike. The prayers and responses rolled off my lips, and my limbs recalled the rhythm of sitting and standing. My friends' church choir brings sacredness to the room throughout the service, drawing a holy presence that I felt in my heart. I do appreciate the mystery of ritual in the Catholic church.

While moved by the music, I found myself listening closely to the words, wondering if their meaning would resonate in my soul as they had many years previous. Music is a path to the spiritual for me, and despite holding different beliefs that directly expressed by the songs, I found the music lifting me to a higher plane. Further into the Mass, however, I hit the curb and lost my balance.

The RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) group were to be presented to the bishop later in the day, but they also appeared with their sponsors during this Mass after the homily. While appreciating the dedication these men and women were making to their faith and Church, I felt acutely uncomfortable hearing their sponsors questioned as to their charges' commitment and efforts. How can anyone else know what dwells in one's heart? How can one attest to the faith of another? While I've seen this ritual many times, one year as a sponsor, I hadn't witnessed it since leaving the Catholic church about five years ago and don't recall questioning it previously.

Indeed, how can another person validate anyone's belief system, sanctifying it beyond what the individual and his or her Ground of Being can do? Why is a person, lay or clergy, needed for a person to make that leap? Initially, I thought the public nature of the event was my sticking point, but further reflection led me to my struggle: how could another human be a mandatory conduit between a person and the divine?

I don't question that people and all of creation can and do facilitate links between the individual and the divine, but I fail to reconcile with that being as a requirement for connection, salvation, or fulfillment. Not even as a practicing Catholic did I feel certainty in that bit of doctrine, but only now outside of the Church does the thought discomfort me so much.

I firmly believe in the divine, in something beyond me that encompasses the universe. I rest peacefully knowing my vision of the divine need not be the same as the men and women in the RCIA program, yet feel certain we share a spiritual truth beyond creed and doctrine. Back on my bike, and on to communion. Stay tuned.

Mass Effects (Part I)

This afternoon, the boys and I arrived home from restorative visit with some dear friends from Ohio. I caught up with a companion from seventh grade onward while our children furthered their skills in Rock Band II and Monopoly. We spend Saturday at the Air Force Museum in Dayton, a destination desired my my guys for quite some time and generally enjoyed by all. While I remain a champion of peaceful conflict resolution, I was repeatedly amazed at planes in the museum's three large hangers.

This morning, we attended their Catholic church, a change of pace from our usual UU experience. Raised a mixture of Catholic and Methodist (attending both many Sundays of my youth), I chose Catholicism at age 12 and continued with the Catholic church until about six years ago. A few years of a liberal Episcopal experience led to a few years without a church and deep questioning about my beliefs. I found a home in a Unitarian Universalist community a year and a half ago and have never felt more truly at peace in a religious community.

After a bit of prep with the boys on Lent, Mass, and why we wouldn't be taking communion, I decided we'd join our friends at Mass today. While both boys were baptized Catholic, only my older recalls any of his time in the church. Our friends' church is university-based with a large non-student congregation at the service we attended. The sanctuary, while large, is non-imposing and quite spare and not at all like the century old meeting house my boys know so well. Despite the size, the room exudes warmth and community, very much like our religious home base. We all settled into our seats and waited for the service to begin.