So it seems that in the eyes of my very judgemental coworkers that I should be excommunicated from the Catholic Church.  How proud my parents would be if they knew I am a heathen in the eyes of… this is where I have to remind myself that a nun and crazy office manager do not have control over my afterlife destiny. Yet, I often wonder if they would take action if they knew my FULL background.

So, the nun explained to anyone who cared to listen today that the only 2 ways to be excommunicated from the church is to 1.  live in sin  or 2. have an abortion.  My knee jerk reaction is to explain which category I fall under, but it is truly nobody’s business. But for the sake of all being on the same boat, I will disclaim that my husband and I lived together after we were engaged for over a year prior to the big day. Imagine this- I would have happily lived with him forever as committed to him as I am today with or without  a ring.  The church had hurt me deeply.  NO- that’s not correct.  A man representing the church had hurt me deeply a few years previous.  My future husband was not even Catholic yet, but basically refused to have kids with me without a march down the isle. While an interesting story, we’ll come back to it at a later time. Lesson learned? I guess once again I am not a “true Catholic”.

And I have also been informed that Mexicans don’t like to register in the parish because they are afraid of being “tracked”.  Keeping in mind this church is in a rather comfortable middle class area where gleaming new minivans and suvs pack the lot for mass. Any “Mexican” they see in a pew here are a rare sighting. I am instructed to inform them that another church near by has masses said in Spanish.  You see, (please read extreme sarcasm as I quote our fearless leader here…) this church believes in assimilation, which means we only say mass in English and everyone is to come together under one language/faith.  In other words, act like a white person, dress like a white person, keep no traditions that may seem south of the border, and we will happily make room for your check in the collection plate.

While so many thought of their complete lack of acceptance are floating through my mind, I need to collect a few thought before diving into a few stories about their insanity.  I better go splash myself with some holy water before this goes any further! ;)

I have always muttered under my breath that they better hope I don’t write a book one day. Instead I have decided to start a blog about my experience working in a Catholic Church.

A little background…  Yes, I am Catholic.  Cradle Catholic to be exact.  My husband and I were married in the church and raise our kids in the church.  I have never worked in a church before, but thought this would be the perfect job. Where else could I work where everyone’s values would be similar? if I only knew…

Introductions to our starting line up:

I will be playing the part of the outgoing middle aged parish secretary

Pastor: lanky fellow who while very prayerful and intelligent, has a complete disconnect with anyone under 4 feet.

Office Manager:  OCD queen. Unmarried, insecure, power crazy control freak.

Pastoral Associate: A spunky nun in her 60s who has a abrupt demeanor but warm heart.

DRE: the warm, sweet woman in her 30s who hides from conflict

RE Office Manager:  very nice woman who fell into a job she had no background in by being bff with the office manager

My first week in the office started with a bang.  Within 36 seconds I realized I was in for all kinds of crazziness.  The Office Manager (who we will now call the OCD Queen) greats me with post its typed all over my desk with instructions. I am not allowed to answer the phone, touch the copy machine or computer, or talk to anyone.  I have no idea why I am here.  After a few days I start answering the phone and touching her beloved office equipment to her dismay. We fall into an awkward but workable daily schedule where she rushes out of her office anytime she hears me open a drawer, touch a piece of office equipment, or breath.  I am obviously making her a nervous wreck.

Then I got my first sign of what my real hurdles would be.  After taking a call from a mother inquiring about celebrating her daughter’s quincera at the church, I was informed by the OCD Queen that this church no longer does it because-

“Mexican checks don’t clear”.  

Read that last line a few times and take a wild guess how I was feeling. Since that time I have witnessed so many things that have hurt me to my soul.  I keep thinking one day I’ll make a difference here but I know in reality that I’m just treading water for as long as possible.

I hope you’ll hang out with me as I get down some of my experiences.  This is not my view of the Catholic Church, but of one specific building and the people left in charge to run it.  This is not the parish I worship with my family, and never will be.

Life is a series of lessons.  Some make you laugh.  Some make you cry.  Hopefully this blog will help me laugh at a few more and help keep some of the tears at bay!