Less than two weeks ago, at the nearly three-hour-long Saturday night Easter Vigil service at Montgomery’s St. Bede the Venerable, I joined the Catholic Church. After a roughly eight-month stint of RCIA classes, going every Wednesday night to receive an hour’s worth of instruction on how to “see the world through Catholic-colored glasses,” the time came in the spring . . . and I got baptized at the tender age of 37, something I had long neglected to do— largely because, for my most of my life, I thought I already had. After being married for more than ten years to a “cradle Catholic” – it was made clear that no one is a life-long Catholic, no one is born Catholic – I made the plunge! It feels pretty good to be church-going sort of person.
Lazy Afternoon Reruns: “Forgetting to Genuflect”