Cheryl's Blog

Happy Easter to you and yours. I’m taking the day off and thought I’d share a blog I wrote years ago.

~*~

This morning I went to church for the first time in years. I’d been thinking about going to celebrate Easter and a last-minute invitation from a friend sealed the deal.

Raised Catholic, I spent every Sunday morning at church with my family. We’d file in, one by one, all nine of us, and settle into the first pew at the front of the altar so we could watch the priest close up as he led Mass.

Today, sitting a little further back, as I stared at the coffered ceilings, the stained-glass windows, and the mighty arches overhead, I was transported back in time. My body knew the rituals by heart – stand, sit, kneel, stand. My lips remembered every prayer. My heart stirred as I listened to the thundering organ and the familiar hymns sung in unison by the congregation.

When we sat for the sermon, I stared at a young girl – maybe ten years old – sitting in a pew in front of me. She had long dark hair and wore a pale pink dress with a matching ribbon tied in a bow around her ponytail. Wiggling back and forth, doing her best to sit still, I smiled as I remembered my own restlessness as a kid in church, constrained by the fear of getting “the look” from one of my parents.

Watching this child, I felt emotion well up inside me. I quickly lowered my head and squeezed my eyes shut to keep tears from falling, unsure of what triggered this reaction. I took a slow, deep breath and became present to the experience.

This is where my spiritual life was born, I thought to myself, the place that introduced me to the sacred dimension of life, to the power of presence, and to an intimate relationship with God. The rituals of Catholicism assembled the spiritual backbone that, to this day, supports my life and work.

The church may also be where my love affair with beauty began.

As I sat quietly in the pew, head bent in silence, I thought about how I used to complain about going to church all the time as a kid, and now here I was, filled with gratitude for the commitment my parents made to instill in me a reverence for the sacred despite my resistance.

Though my spiritual life has expanded to include the rituals and teachings of many faiths, and I visit church less often, it felt good to be back. At the end of Mass, something beautiful happened to add to the experience. As I left the church, the priest who led the service smiled as I walked by. When my friend stopped to introduce us, he threw his arms around me before she barely had a chance to say a word.

Hugging me tight, he recited a blessing into my ear, asking God to fill me with love, to protect me, and to give me what I needed to continue making my way in the world. I returned his embrace, a little stunned by his warmth and informality.

Then, when he finished, he stepped back, looked me in the eye, and started laughing.

“You get it, right?” he said to me.

I started laughing, too.

Yes, I get it, I replied, without a second thought. My head unsure, but my heart and soul fully on board with his message. Despite my absence, I was still carried through life by the love of a Presence greater than myself. A love that will always guide and protect me. A love I can count on.

I smiled at the priest and thanked him for his beautiful Easter blessing.

May you feel this love, too, and a connection to the Presence in whatever form serves you best. Happy Easter!

Love,
Cheryl