So, a little bit about my conversion:
I converted to Catholicism on April 4, 2010 when I was 13. However, my story didn't start there.
Before becoming Catholic, I was raised Mormon by my Mormon father. In 5th and 6th grade, my dad became considerably less active in the Mormon church. Many times he would drop me off for Sacrament and pick me up after Sunday school, or ask a neighbor to bring me for him. This complete lack of faith bothered me, because I was truly invested in religion and I wanted to know more and more about my faith. Around this time, my mom, who was born and raised Catholic, started going back to church. Although I had been somewhat resistant to the Catholic faith beforehand, I went to Mass with her every once and a while when my dad couldn't bring me to Sacrament.
I slowly became more and more interested about Catholicism. Everything about the Mass was so different from what I had known from the Mormon Sacrament. As my mom taught me about Catholicism through the Mass, my heart was won over.
At the parish we went to (and still attend to this day), I felt a strong sense of community that I had never felt before. It didn't matter what Mass time you went to, it didn't even matter if your were Catholic or could go up for communion. People would still shake your hand during the Sign of Peace and hold your hand during the Our Father. They would smile at you as you entered or left the church. The whole environment of the Mass was radically different from Sacrament, where your ward only went to a single Sacrament time the whole year, and if you weren't Mormon you got sidelong looks as you had to pass over the trays with Wonder bread and small cups of water without taking any. There was no welcoming spirit or true sense of communion. I never felt God's presence in the Mormon church. But I felt it at Mass.
Throughout 6th and 7th grade, my mom taught me the hows and whats of being Catholic. One of the first things I learned was how to make the Sign of the Cross. Other symbols and prayers in the Mass quickly followed. I learned the Hail Mary and the Our Father through praying a blue rosary my mom gave me. At the end of 6th grade, I dropped the bomb shell on my dad.
I wanted to be Catholic.
Needless to say, he did NOT take it well. My dad is a very stubborn, hot tempered, and proud man. It took from the end of 6th grade to the summer before 8th before he let me join the Children's Catechumenate, which is RCIA for kids. During those nearly two years, I prayed as best as I could (which wasn't very well-the Mormon prayer I had been raised on is very cut and dry) and fought with my dad. Nearly all of those arguments ended in tears. At the time, my dad felt that I wasn't old enough to decide if I wanted to be Catholic, and if I wanted it so bad I could wait until I was 18 and an adult. Needless to say, I was heartbroken. My mom was my advocate at that time. She talked with my dad and finally, finally, he relented. I could become Catholic.
The wait did make me sad, though, because in 7th grade, a little over a year before I became Catholic, my grandpa on my mom's side, Papa, died. It made me said that I couldn't receive communion at his funeral and that he didn't get to see me become Catholic. However, my new found Catholic beliefs gave me a lot of peace after his death. The summer before 7th grade I also got to see the beauty of St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York. I desperately wish I could go back there now that I am Catholic and can understand just where I was and what amazing beauty was around me.
My time in the Children's Catechumenate and Easter Vigil will be in another post, seeing as how this one is getting long.
I converted to Catholicism on April 4, 2010 when I was 13. However, my story didn't start there.
Before becoming Catholic, I was raised Mormon by my Mormon father. In 5th and 6th grade, my dad became considerably less active in the Mormon church. Many times he would drop me off for Sacrament and pick me up after Sunday school, or ask a neighbor to bring me for him. This complete lack of faith bothered me, because I was truly invested in religion and I wanted to know more and more about my faith. Around this time, my mom, who was born and raised Catholic, started going back to church. Although I had been somewhat resistant to the Catholic faith beforehand, I went to Mass with her every once and a while when my dad couldn't bring me to Sacrament.
I slowly became more and more interested about Catholicism. Everything about the Mass was so different from what I had known from the Mormon Sacrament. As my mom taught me about Catholicism through the Mass, my heart was won over.
At the parish we went to (and still attend to this day), I felt a strong sense of community that I had never felt before. It didn't matter what Mass time you went to, it didn't even matter if your were Catholic or could go up for communion. People would still shake your hand during the Sign of Peace and hold your hand during the Our Father. They would smile at you as you entered or left the church. The whole environment of the Mass was radically different from Sacrament, where your ward only went to a single Sacrament time the whole year, and if you weren't Mormon you got sidelong looks as you had to pass over the trays with Wonder bread and small cups of water without taking any. There was no welcoming spirit or true sense of communion. I never felt God's presence in the Mormon church. But I felt it at Mass.
Throughout 6th and 7th grade, my mom taught me the hows and whats of being Catholic. One of the first things I learned was how to make the Sign of the Cross. Other symbols and prayers in the Mass quickly followed. I learned the Hail Mary and the Our Father through praying a blue rosary my mom gave me. At the end of 6th grade, I dropped the bomb shell on my dad.
I wanted to be Catholic.
Needless to say, he did NOT take it well. My dad is a very stubborn, hot tempered, and proud man. It took from the end of 6th grade to the summer before 8th before he let me join the Children's Catechumenate, which is RCIA for kids. During those nearly two years, I prayed as best as I could (which wasn't very well-the Mormon prayer I had been raised on is very cut and dry) and fought with my dad. Nearly all of those arguments ended in tears. At the time, my dad felt that I wasn't old enough to decide if I wanted to be Catholic, and if I wanted it so bad I could wait until I was 18 and an adult. Needless to say, I was heartbroken. My mom was my advocate at that time. She talked with my dad and finally, finally, he relented. I could become Catholic.
The wait did make me sad, though, because in 7th grade, a little over a year before I became Catholic, my grandpa on my mom's side, Papa, died. It made me said that I couldn't receive communion at his funeral and that he didn't get to see me become Catholic. However, my new found Catholic beliefs gave me a lot of peace after his death. The summer before 7th grade I also got to see the beauty of St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York. I desperately wish I could go back there now that I am Catholic and can understand just where I was and what amazing beauty was around me.
My time in the Children's Catechumenate and Easter Vigil will be in another post, seeing as how this one is getting long.
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