The big Texas-OU game came and went this weekend, with a loss for Texas. Friday night, there was a gaggle of fans from both sides invading the West End outside my apartment. Firework booms caught my interest, and when I went outside I walked into bedlam. Somehow I've managed to live here for going on 3 years and had managed to remain ignorant that this is a yearly event.
As I idly flowed with the crowd, people-watching and enjoying being a passive observer, my arm was gently grasped by a petite blonde. "Excuse me," said she as she handed me a piece of paper, "have you been saved?"
I never know what to say when random strangers come up to me and start questioning my Christianity. I'm a confirmed Catholic. My understanding of my own religion is murky most of time at best, and I have never really understood what people mean by being "saved". My suspicion is that I probably don't fall into the "safe" category as outlined by many bodies of worship. But you know what? When I'm out wandering, minding my own business in a crowd of excited football fans in the middle of night, the last thing I really want to do is engage in a theological debate with some random stranger who will probably walk away from any prolonged interaction with me with the impression that I'm a heretic destined to burn in the pits of hell.
So, I did what I usually do in situations where I really don't know what else to do and I'm trying to avoid being completely rude. I told the truth where I could and BS-ed the rest.
To be fair, I think I was 4 or 5 when I can first remember my introduction to religion. It's when I started to emulate my mother's actions (crossing myself when we passed graveyards, started a journey, heard bad news, etc.) and I learned several prayers. I loved the prayers; they were like music the way my mother said them. To this day, I don't know the traditional Catholic prayers in English, just Spanish - it just feels better that way. We never really went to church. It was just never a big deal."Yup."
"You've accepted Christ into your heart." (Possible air of
disbelief)
"A long time ago."
"How long ago?"
"Hmmmm... probably when I was 5."
"5? Really?"
"Yup. Anyhow, good luck with everything. Have a nice
night." (Broke away from her and walked away.)
I think I'm going to stop. This is getting too involved, and I'm starting to yawn. Good night.
3 comments:
I'm on call tonight...just took a Benadryl and drank some tea. I hope that you are having a "blessed" evening. Ha ha ha ha. As I always said, the two things that fucked me up when I was little were:
1. Small town
2. Catholic church
I think that the two were synergistic in tandem rather than additive.
You know, there's a saying in Spanish that translates into "Small town, big hell." It was also a soap opera.
Anyway, the point behind the saying being that often in small towns people may mind your business and it's hard to keep secrets, and then often judge you for what you do.
... I forgot what my point was. Back to packing!
oh, oh, oh.........
i got called in from 145 until 445. sucked. so damn tired. so i'm going to sleep all day.
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