Got an early start to my Sunday after a long and enjoyable night out with friends. I questioned why I had agreed to attend a mass at my friend Janice's Cathloic parish when the alarm went off at 7:00am, but once I got going I was glad to see her and step foot into the beautiful, modern building. It had huge vaulted ceilings with warm wooden arches, countless floor to ceiling windows, a lovely stained glass window and a simple little fountain that held holy water in the back. It had a very peaceful feeling and I was surprised just how many people showed up for the mass. Nearly all of the pews were full and there were many families there with their broods of lovely little children.
The liturgy that morning was the annointing of the sick. All who were experiencing illness could be annointed by a priest with the support of their friends and family and the congregation. The priest talked about the importance of the body, how all systems work together to create something much stronger and unified than the sum of its parts. He also talked about Catholics' responsibility to care for the bodies of those less fortunate than themselves, to work for justice according to Catholic Social Teaching and ensure that the God-given life within each person is honored.
Since coming to Marquette, I have become more familiar with Catholicism and attended more masses than I ever before in my life. I understand what will come next in the mass, its significance and what to say and do so I can fit in the the crowd. But I still feel quite uncomfortable when we arrive at the Eucharist. I learned from one of my staff members going through RCIA (the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults) that I am able to take communion in Catholic church because I received it when I was baptized Greek Orthodox, a tradition that is recognized by the Vatican. I still have never taken it in a mass because it feels disrespectful to me. It's not my faith tradition, nor have I even stepped foot in an Orthodox church in years.
I start to feel nervous from the moment the whole process starts, because I worry I'll stick out like a sore thumb if I stay behind on the pew, but I also worry I'll make an ass of myself if I walk up to take a blessing instead, like I'll flub some little detail that shows the priest I'm an "imposter". This is the part of the mass that makes me accutely aware I am not Catholic and showcases it for the rest of the attendees. This week I elected to stay behind in my pew and because of the way the church layout was set up, this decision meant fifteen people had to squeeze pass me on their way up to the alter. I felt silly and embarassed, yet it's not enough to send me up there to take communion. It just doesn't seem right as a visitor.
Afterward I waited in the lobby for Janice to finish her RCIA meeting. There was a huge Norfolk Pine tree in a pot next to a window that made me think of my own little Norfolk at home that I received in a holiday gift exchange two years ago. Norfolks are slow growing and a bit tempermental. I've worked hard to make it happy and am pleased that there are many little green pine branches sprouting out. Whenver, I see a huge Norfolk I feel hopeful that mine may eventually turn into a tree that I can admire and remember how it grew up from a little baby tree. Norfolks also remind me of my first Christmas tree in my apartment in McCormick. I bought a medium sized Norfolk that year, strung it with white lights and threw a few red bulbs on it. I didn't take good enough care of it and it died that January. If my little guy grows up to be big, I think I'll string it with lights again at holiday time.
My little 'Folkie:
After mass we went out for coffee and enjoyed conversation filled with laughter and talk about Marquette, MPS, Unions, alter-ego Facebook accounts and moving slowly into adulthood.
When I arrived home Ryan had finished baking a loaf off no-knead whole wheat bread and the apartment smelled lovely. We hauled our butts off to a few open houses on the south side of the city. We visited one outlier near the West Allis Farmer's Market. It was cute, but old, down-market and lacking a garage (with no hope for one in the future). We spent the rest of our time in the teens south of Morgan and north of Howard. We looked at several cape cods and then drove around the neighborhood to check out the general scene.
We've spent a lot of time fantasizing about bungalows and I haven't given much thought to cape cods. I imagined them to be small and lacking the character of something older. But we saw one that felt like home. It was the first house I was overjoyed to leave and kept saying to Ryan, "I want that house!". It was a small little brick thing with three bedrooms (a master bedroom that took up the entire converted attic), a huge kitchen, a finished basement and a yard with nice potential. It fit squarely at mid-range of prices we're considering, so it'd be a smart buy. We are convinced we don't want to be housepoor or feel compelled to fill up empty rooms. We certainly don't want to be unable to do things we love, like traveling.
There were a couple of no-gos. It didn't have a dining room and we just inherited some family heirloom furniture for which we need to find a place. The living room is tight, but with a finished family room that could be okay. It only had one bathroom and we'd like at least another half bath. Growing up with only one bathroom was a pain, especially with three women in my house. It has a one and a half car garage and we're looking for two. But beyond all of those things, it just felt like home.
We decided that regardless of whether we want to move on this house, that it's time for us to find a buyer's agent and to talk with a lender. It's crazy how much I've thought about what my life will be like when I leave the res hall and it's coming up very quickly.
