restoration and repair….

Orthodoxy is taking me apart it seems. I feel as though all the pieces of me are being removed, examined, cleaned up and ready for restoration and repair. That is my hope, at any rate. Right now, I only feel as though I’m being taken apart. I can feel each piece when it’s removed. This empty space holds air and time. The framework of me keeps the empty space, ready to be…

barometer…

I may need a barometer, a personal barometer…a person barometer. I need someone who I can call and say, “geez, is THIS normal?” Mostly my “is this normal” question applies to this weird orthodoxy idea I have in me. The one that comes to me today is around having been in the actual “church” on saturday. I had missed the 101 class 2 weeks running because of scheduling conflicts. In that time…

confession…

I’m not sure I know how to put this.  It may be a bit rambling, I apologize in advance for that.  I tend to write these things stream of conscious-like and often don’t take the time to review and revise a great deal before posting them. That’s not the confession. That’s the pre-amble to the ramble. I’ve been considering that the next thing I need in this journey is confession…I need this…

acedia…

I’m struggling with motivation to be consistent in practice quite a bit now.  It’s odd considering that we’re entering the season of Advent…a time to reflect, prepare the way, listen, wait in hope.  Maybe it’s the waiting part that is kicking up my struggle.  I find I am visited more and more with this old feeling of acedia. I truly wish the “noonday demon” would contain itself to appearing at noon.  As…

Momentum

Like every other new thing I attempt I find that I am prone to lose momentum after a few months. This is part of the reason I have tried to be vocal about my journey into orthodoxy. I want to be seen, asked, held accountable. What I want to avoid in this is pride, boasting. I don’t want to appear that I’m doing something to draw attention to myself. So it’s a…

gabriel…

This is my first icon. I bought this, I remember clearly, at Pier One, about 12 years ago. It’s hung in every house we’ve had, in a place where I’d see it every day. It’s no accident I chose Gabriel. The archangel has long been a favorite, his name meaning “man of God.” He is the messenger, a name I share by my birth-name, Angela. it’s a good place to begin.

growing up catholic…

When I left the Catholic church, as I said earlier, it was not because I was protesting it’s doctrine or because I felt misused by it.  I did not leave under duress but more as a kind of meandering I guess I’d say.  I wandered away from Catholicism and it was not hard to wander away. My family was “devout” in that we held to the basic rule of  making sure our…