Tisha Sharp

When I was growing up in Northeast Iowa, most of my neighborhood was Catholic. As a Lutheran, I still played First Communion a lot with my friends.

You are crazy! If I am, so are you! Funny.
I was raised Catholic and attended their elementary school, uniforms, church (mass) all the time and a good many confessions. So many in fact, I felt I had to make some sins up because I couldn't think of any. Trouble is, I guess that in itself was a sin.
Its dark in there too.
Since I attended school, I always thought the priest knew who I was, even though, supposedly, they couldn't see you. I always felt he was watching me later and 'knew' things.
Don't miss it, you'll love it, it's been so long, decades, I should give it another try, just in case the world ends.

I've thought about sneaking into the confessional at times too. But I'm thinking if I cross the threshold of a church lightening might strike.

I grew up on the Mexican border, and to me, the most delicious part of the Catholic faith was quinceanera. While it's not really a part of the Catholic faith, it seemed like church was always involved--with prayers and blessings.

For a little Baptist boy like me, watching the pure, tender, beautiful girls ascend those stairs into the Catholic sanctuary was a vision of angels. Indeed!

A quinceanera is a celebration of a Mexican girl's 15th birthday--or her entry into womanhood. It's really a pretty neat deal.

Dum vivimus, vivamus. Dominus tecum. I'm your Huckleberry! ;)

What a nutzoid.

Listen, a little ways away from our high school was the local Catholic grade school. Then when they graduated they had to come to the public high school. Shocking. We taught them all to say damn and piss.

My kids go to Catholic school, even though we aren't Catholic. Taking five religion classes a week (plus two more at our church) had caused my daughters to blow the curve at Bible Quiz time, but I also have to entangle myself in esoteric explanations of doctrinal dfifferences at least once a week. But alas, they know how to say damn and piss already!

And the catholics get to drink at weddings. lol

As a Protestant who lived a block from a Catholic church, and thus in a neighborhood that was all Caltholic except our family. I also was fascinated, and have actually stood in line for confession, although I never actually went in.

I love your Thursday - Oreo day suggestion, and many a priest would have enjoyed that comment.

Have a great day.

Cassie-b

Cas

ahhh some priests are cool about confession. I went to confession in high school and had great conversations about the existence of god with Father. Of course, i go to mass now...i should really confess my sins, but I think at this point I'll just give father a heart attack.

I can see why Hoss likes visiting here!

I've been told that I'm more Catholic than most Catholics, even though I'm Lutheran.

*snort* at Oreo day :) Your penance shall be five hail marys, two our fathers and a free trip to the confessional.

Please, whatever you do, blog about it as soon as you go! That will be a classic.

You better or, or, you'll go to Hell :)

I was raised Catholic...11 years of Catholic schooling, too. If you want to hit up confession, I know just the priest! come visit me in SC, and I'll take you to Father Tim. He's a hoot. I just went to confession for the first time since I was a teen about three weeks ago, and I walked in and grinned at Father Tim and said, well, Bless me father for I have sinned. It's been so damn long since my last confession that I can't even begin to track it, and boy, since some of those lost years include college, I'll be in here for a while. He just started laughing.

I was also raised in a somewhat drab Protestant faith but it was okay because the neighborhood was so homogenized that every single kid was the same- except for the Catholic family of 7 across the street. We thought they were a real oddity just because they were Catholic. But when my parents were off at work and our cat, Ike, killed our pet bunny we figured the only way to send the bunny off right was to call in the Catholics. The 9 year old kid did a darn fine job of re-enacting some high holy mass for the dead so after that we let him hang around. A little. P.S. We buried the bunny in the sand box. Ultimately, that didn't pan out too well.

Church into everything.
Even my cars exhaust has a catholitic converter.