Flunking Sainthood

Chapter 1:  Choosing Practices

My friend Kelly wnt through a phase when she was about seven years old when she wanted quite desperately to be a nun.  In the flush of religiousity attending her first Communion, she pictured herself in a sweeping black habit like the sisters who taught her strict elementary school.  Actually, I just made the last part up.  Kelly was a kid after VaticanII, so the nuns probably wore jeans with holes at the knees and chain-smoked in the teacher's lounge.  I'll have to ask her sometime.  But the "Sound of Music" image makes for a better story.

I didn't grow up Catholic, or any other religion for that matter.  My dad was an angry atheist who considered religion a crutch for people who were too stupid to know any better.  My mom was considerably more charitable but no more interested in organized religion than she was in volunteering for a Stalinist gulag.  So it's hard to explain why I was always drawn inexorably toward religion and religious people...  (Flunking Sainthood:  A Year of Breaking the Sabbath, Forgetting to Pray, and still Loving My Neighbor, Jana Riess pg 1)

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