If you had told me three weeks ago that I’d be a Catechist — a Catholic Sunday school teacher — I would have never believed you. My husband didn’t even believe me … and accused me of being high on cold medication.
I feel too tall when we all stand up. I wish I hadn’t worn low-heeled boots. There’s a sea of white and balding heads, and then me — looming over everyone, awkwardly clasping my hands and murmuring along when I can. We’re back at… Continue Reading “My Catholic conscience”
It was stressful trying to keep the kids quiet in church. It was embarrassing when all of the crotchety old people would turn around and glare at us. I was sweating bullets the whole time.