on finding my god again
Yesterday, I was getting ready for work and choosing a top to go with my jeans for casual Friday. I settled on an aqua-coloured linen one and looked for the right necklace. The right one was one that looks a bit like a rosary, and does, in fact, have a medal for Our Lady of Guadalupe, and was bought in New Orleans. I loved the religious iconography and the colourful figures.
Looking back, I think it may have been a sign. At the time I bought it, I wasn’t thinking at all about religion, god, communion, heaven, or hell. I had long since decided it was all bullshit and I didn’t need it in my life. I’d lost my religion about one day after my son committed suicide.
But Saint Louis Cathedral in the French Quarter kept drawing me back. It’s a beautiful cathedral, small, but ornate. I found peace there. I could be alone with my thoughts as I couldn’t be at home. I was always overcome with emotion while there and often burst into tears. I lit candles for my son and my grandmothers. I started conversations in my head along the lines of: thank you for letting me live in this amazing city and I hope my interview tomorrow goes well because I really need a job.
After some months of these conversations, it finally dawned on me. I was talking to god. After so many years of saying I didn’t believe, I believed. I was in denial no more.
When a nine year relationship ended (badly) all I could do, besides cry, was talk. When Mollie died, I was talking nonstop. When I was trying to decide whether or not to leave New Orleans, I couldn’t stop talking. I talked as I drove all the way back to Chicago. I talked on the way to every interview.
And guess what. I was heard.
I’ve been talking a lot again lately. My Madeleine died in April and the quietness and emptiness of my little flat would be unbearable without my talking. My new job is making me question my abilities and strengths and I am talking so much, I wake myself up at night.
I am no longer embarrassed or awkward saying I believe. I can say out loud that I found my god again. And that I found my god in a beautiful little cathedral in the city that will always be a part of my heart, my soul, a part of what makes me me.
And if that is not your thing, that’s okay. If you want to call it something else, that is okay, too. But I am loving all this talking and can’t remember what I did without it and I am not stopping anytime soon.
Looking back, I think it may have been a sign. At the time I bought it, I wasn’t thinking at all about religion, god, communion, heaven, or hell. I had long since decided it was all bullshit and I didn’t need it in my life. I’d lost my religion about one day after my son committed suicide.
But Saint Louis Cathedral in the French Quarter kept drawing me back. It’s a beautiful cathedral, small, but ornate. I found peace there. I could be alone with my thoughts as I couldn’t be at home. I was always overcome with emotion while there and often burst into tears. I lit candles for my son and my grandmothers. I started conversations in my head along the lines of: thank you for letting me live in this amazing city and I hope my interview tomorrow goes well because I really need a job.
After some months of these conversations, it finally dawned on me. I was talking to god. After so many years of saying I didn’t believe, I believed. I was in denial no more.
When a nine year relationship ended (badly) all I could do, besides cry, was talk. When Mollie died, I was talking nonstop. When I was trying to decide whether or not to leave New Orleans, I couldn’t stop talking. I talked as I drove all the way back to Chicago. I talked on the way to every interview.
And guess what. I was heard.
I’ve been talking a lot again lately. My Madeleine died in April and the quietness and emptiness of my little flat would be unbearable without my talking. My new job is making me question my abilities and strengths and I am talking so much, I wake myself up at night.
I am no longer embarrassed or awkward saying I believe. I can say out loud that I found my god again. And that I found my god in a beautiful little cathedral in the city that will always be a part of my heart, my soul, a part of what makes me me.
And if that is not your thing, that’s okay. If you want to call it something else, that is okay, too. But I am loving all this talking and can’t remember what I did without it and I am not stopping anytime soon.
(P.S. Thank you, R.B. ❤)
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| ©Trish Korous 2018 |
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| ©Trish Korous 2018 |
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| St. Louis Cathedral ©Trish Korous 2015 |
it is good, trish, that you found what comforts you.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Susan.
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