My First Veiling

Like many women out there, I have felt the call to cover my head for the Lord in Mass and Eucharistic Adoration. And also like many women who feel this calling, I belong to a parish where this tradition is not practiced. If I were to "veil" at Sunday Mass at my parish, I would be 1 of 2 women out of about 1000+ parishioners (the other woman being an elderly, pre-Vatican II believer).

Regardless, I ordered a long veil but I have to wait about a month for it to be made and shipped. I had a Rite coming up and I really didn't feel right participating in it with my head uncovered. I mean, if the Lord is calling me to do something, I would be a fool to say "No, sorry Lord, maybe later, people might get mad...", right?

I decided to make my own little veil to get me by until my long one arrives. I made a bandana style, ivory lace covering, with an ornate trim on the bottom and a small trim of light pink around the face. I used this gorgeous little number for inspiration.

Last Sunday, I had the Rite of Call to Continuing Conversion at my parish. In place of my normal, casual appearance (jeans and blouse), I tried something different. I wore a long skirt (went half way down my shins), black hose, a sweater top, and a long sleeve sweater over that. And of course, I wore my newly made veil. I was so terrified. People at my parish are already anything but warm to me, but now I was walking in like this. Little did I know, they had me front and center for the Rite. WOW! Talk about nerve wracking. I got some of what I expected. There was a family sitting diagonal from me in the side section of the church (the church is arranged kind of like a semi circle) pointing and snickering at me before service, but I just tried to act like I hadn't noticed.
After the Rite, and Mass ended, a sponsor in my large RCIA class told me, "You look beautiful. You look so Catholic and that makes me happy. You look Orthodox." I sincerely thanked her for saying so and proceeded to RCIA class. I was a little confused by her comment since Orthodox Catholics and Roman Catholics don't have the warmest feelings about one another (I actually have very positive feelings toward Orthodoxy, hate me if you wish). But I just took it as a compliment and went about my day. Several people complimented me on my head covering and that was a wonderful surprise!
The decision to veil like that was not an easy one. When you know your veil will attract attention, that starts to defeat the purpose of the veil itself. You want to follow the Lord's calling, take glory away from yourself and give it to Him, and humble yourself before Him. This is difficult when everyone is staring at you, thinking you are trying to show off your piety.
People call "veiling" a tradition but I don't see it as a tradition. This is in the New Testament! Vatican II gave women the option to veil or not, but no one ever said you shouldn't. Why has this become so controversial?! It seems now, unless you attend Latin Mass, you will be one of the only ones wearing a veil and will almost always get the looks and the judgement from others. I think this is incredibly sad. If women feel the call to do this, they should be free, comfortable, and welcome to do so! People relate this practice to Islamic women covering themselves and all kinds of crazy things. The reason for veiling in Christianity and the reason for Islamic women to cover everything are COMPLETELY different: unrelated in every way!
People can be so silly. We should all feel free to adore our King in our own ways. I find head covering to be a simple, beautiful way to adore Him and it feels right to me. It's a personal decision. Let's not judge other people for choosing to veil or choosing not to. I think Jesus is probably more concerned with our hearts and whether we follow Him whole heartedly, than whether someone veils, comes to Mass in jeans, or who bowed when or genuflected when... Everyone, just relax. When we come to Mass, we should be there for Him. We should keep our eyes on what's really important.

RCIA

Oh, what can I say about RCIA? I hear people talk about their experiences in these programs and their faces are filled with joy. It was such an amazing, magical experience that they will never forget. For me? Not so much.

It took me 2 years to finally commit to RCIA. As Southern Baptists, my family was extremely upset with me. Despite their objections, I was so excited! I started RCIA in August, 2012. My first day was terrible, as some old, bitter sponsors Bible-bashed me over the head. In case you are wondering what sparked their yelling at me, it is because I said I was dating a non-Catholic. That's all I said. They then proceeded to take it upon themselves to tear me apart about possibly getting married outside the Church, raising children with a non-Catholic which would ruin my children for life, and then I lost track of where they were going (I said nothing about marriage or children lol). That is when some other sponsors had to tell the women to calm down and back off. I excused myself early and cried in my car all the way home. Talk about a hell of a first impression! After speaking to the RCIA director, I suppose I became a little indignant, and I refused to let these miserable creatures ruin this for me. So, I stuck with it.

I am still in RCIA now and honestly, things haven't changed a whole lot. My program is in a very large parish so there are a lot of people, which means there is more room for hateful people. It almost feels like grade school when they call me names and try to keep me from worshiping there. Several Catholic friends at my university have told me that I need to switch into another parish. However, I'm so far through the program now, it hardly seems worth the trouble. Plus, I feel that God is calling me to stay there and push through. I am there for Him, not anyone else. RCIA may not be the most wonderful thing in itself for me, but the journey into the Catholic faith has been INCREDIBLE! I can tell you, I have never been more in love with anything.

The hateful people at the Church have only taught me more about the glory of God's love and helped push me closer to Him. For this, I have so much to thank them for.

Out of the Darkness

The path that got me to this point, now in retrospect, seems like a long terrifying nightmare. The damage caused by an abusive childhood shattered me like a hammer through glass. Shame, anger, rage, self loathing: these aspects defined me from then on. My comfort became the Occult: not simply paganism or wiccan, but purposefully evil, dark, satanic magick. The evil that enveloped my home and family due to my rituals goes far beyond what I wish to share. Nearing the age of legal adulthood, I met a woman who I would declare my love for and choose to marry. Despite being shunned and disowned by my family, I took one suitcase and moved across the country to be with her. If only I had known how far she would take me down. 

Just as the sick attract the sick, I had fallen in love with an addict. I had given up everything for the most abusive, cruel, woman I could have found. And yet I stayed. After two months together, she was fired from her job, we lost the house and spent the winter living in her hatchback. From there was the crack motel, our always exciting meth-head neighbor who informed us daily that there were CIA men in the trees, and 2 minimum wage jobs at the local fast food place. We only had one car, her car, that I was not allowed to drive. We moved from one roach infested hovel to another, usually sneaking away at night to skip out on the 3 months back rent we couldn't pay, and pulled 16 hour shifts at whatever miserable job we could find. "Where is all the money going?!!" I would cry to her. The paychecks wouldn't last 2 days. We couldn't afford food...That is something that would haunt me every day for the rest of my life: going hungry. The pain of starving hunger is like nothing I could have ever imagined. Naturally, my body weight plummeted. At a height of 5'9, I withered to 89 pounds. My body started to give up. I quit menstruating and my hair started falling out in clumps. But when personal misery reaches a certain point, you begin to rejoice in your own death; the death of your heart, your soul, and your body.

The more cruel my wife became towards me, the more I believed her when she said, "Its your own fault". Years and years went by. We moved back to my home town. Like a beaten dog still hoping for a shred of kindness from its master, I remained devoted to her. How could it have taken me so many years to realize that she was drinking away our money? That she was eating out while I was home starving. That she was cheating on me the entire time. One night, we went to a party at a friend's house. She announced to a room full of friends that she had a threesome with 2 men (our mutual coworkers), in our bed, and that they were better than I could ever be. She laughed with glee as she made this announcement that publicly humiliated, degraded, and crushed me more than words could ever express.

After she had taken everything from me, she decided I was of no more use to her. She was done with me. She packed up all of our belongings, drained our bank account, and drove away.

And there I was. That was the day I suffered a nervous breakdown. My mother and I's relationship was still extremely strained by hurt and resentment. But my mom watched as her daughter collapsed in the driveway, screaming in agony, shattered into pieces. She knew what happened in that moment. That was the moment when her little girl lost all ability to care for herself. She took me in. She cared for me when I was bedridden. All I could do was lie there and scream, crying so hard I swore my tears would turn to blood. I had finally found hell.

My mom cared for me, as I had now become somewhat of an invalid. She had to help me relearn basic functions, but no amount of time or care could put me back together. The pieces of me were too broken to ever be joined again. Days kept coming and going, and the agony would not relent. I would cry until I vomited and it seemed even exhaustion could not grant me reprieve.

One night, I was in bed crying uncontrollably and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I crawled out of bed, onto the floor, caught one solid breath and screamed out to God as loud as I could. The same God I raged against, the God I once cursed and hated, was now the God I was screaming desperately to for help. I screamed for Him to help me until I had no voice left.

I can't say that in one divine moment, I was in any way whole again. I knew nothing outside of the woman who had left me. I didn't know who I was. What food did I like? What music did I like? What opinions did I have? I had no identity. Very slowly, I began building a new life. I would go from better to worse to better again.

My journey to find God continued. However, going from a pact with the Devil to finding God is not a an easy, joyous, or clear process. It would be the most difficult, trying journey I would ever undertake.