About believing in God as much as in love

I find it hard, in some ways, to use the term 'believing' in connection with God because the 'idea' of God as the creator of all that exists, has always seemed to me to be totally self-evident. If I were to try to explain my awareness of the reality of God, I would say that it is similar to my awareness of the reality of love.

Love, however, is as hard to define and as mysterious as is the 'concept' of God. I believe in love because I have experienced being loved and feeling love, for family and friends; for nature too, and music, poetry and art, in all its many aspects.

Love, in its many forms, can "move mountains" and melt hearts of stone. I have looked at my young children and almost felt something leave me and reach out and attach itself to them in a tangible bond.

It is this love which seems to me to be the absolute manifestation of the love of God. This love is that which I see as powering the universe, from the heartbeat of the atom to the explosive power of the stars. I feel this love as I feel the warmth of the sun, and I see God in everything as I see by the light of the sun.

Non-believers will give utilitarian causes for the existence of everything and some even believe that love is a result of self-interest, another aspect of evolution, and that may even be partly true. I wouldn't profess to know all the secrets of that wondrous process.

However, nothing can explain to me the concept that this all started from nothing. To quote Shakespeare and The Sound of Music, as I have before in some post or other, ''Nothing comes from Nothing.''

About the name changing of Holy Communion

Throughout my life as a practicing Catholic, I have spoken of 'going to church' as 'going to Mass' but in recent years we frequently hear it referred to as 'The Eucharist.' It has been explained many times that this is the Greek word for thanksgiving but the Mass is much more than thanksgiving. surely.

More specifically, it is Holy Communion, as many of us have always known it, that is now termed The Eucharist. To me, the term Holy Communion is the nearest expression of the miracle and wonder of receiving the life of Jesus within us.

Jesus is the 'Holy One' as we say in the Gloria, he is in communion with us and we with him. What could be more precious than that and what expresses it more closely than Holy Communion? And as we adore him when he is held aloft before our very eyes, what expresses his presence more closely than The Blessed Sacrament, the outward sign of the inner divinity of God?

For me, nothing.

About sitting in a different place in church

One morning, at the funeral of a very respected parishioner, I found myself having to sit on the back row of the right-hand side of the very full church whereas we generally sit on the third or fourth row of that same side.

Now please don't take this the wrong way. It isn't that we have an invisible nameplate on 'our' bench. If someone else should be occupying it when we arrive, we just accommodate ourselves happily elsewhere.

However, it is a recognisable fact that most regular church-goers tend to sit in the same place each week. Perhaps it is just human nature. As I viewed our church from this different perspective, I became aware of, or rather 'saw' everything in the church in a way that I wouldn't have done from my usual position.

I think it just brought into my mind a recognition that so much of what we do in everyday life is done on auto-pilot and perhaps it's a good idea to sometimes  'sit somewhere else,' figuratively speaking, just to see what we may have lost sight of.

About Jesus after the Resurrection

Why could it be, do we think, that Jesus only appeared to his friends after the Resurrection? He could have chosen to go straight to heaven to be reunited within the Trinity but no, he chose to stay with his friends, to comfort and reassure and then, to encourage and strengthen them for the task ahead.

He could have appeared to non-believers who might (and only might) have thought that, as he had died, and was now alive, they should believe in him. Those who hated him might have tried to kill him again and found out that he was now immortal, and had no choice but to believe in him!

No - they had had their chance, freely - without tricks or magic - to accept Jesus for who he was. For Jesus, his mother and his beloved disciples, those forty days must have been a time of utter peace and joy, a union of love.

About hoping and/or trusting

Over the years, hope has been a concept with which I have struggled. In the general sense, "I hope the weather will be good for our picnic tomorrow" or "I'm hoping for good results in whatever..." are straightforward examples which I can comprehend.

In the first instance, we have no control over the situation so 'hoping' seems natural. In the second, sometimes we might have an input, eg, if the hope is for good results in an exam, then how much revision was done is a key factor, which would mean that hope alone would be a somewhat 'vain hope'.

In the case of a health test perhaps, in some cases, no action of ours would have any impact so hope is a natural response, whereas there can be situations where our life-styles have an effect on results so maybe hope plus effort is to be 'hoped for.''

In the religious context, however, it is given a very high importance. Faith, hope and charity are, after all, entitled 'the three key gifts of grace' or theological virtues, to give them their more formal title.
Perhaps it is because I have always had absolute conviction that, whether in this life or the next, "All will be well," that I don't seem to worry about the ultimate future because there seems no need.

This might sound complacent but I don't mean it to be. I believe we all have to try as hard as we can to be good people in whatever circumstances life places us but, on the whole, I live fairly happily in the present, with my life, if not always with myself. And as for that, I have complete trust that, in the end God will sort me out and take me home.

About being a Catholic

I have been a Catholic all my life and I have always loved it. I was born into what we would call, a 'practising Catholic family', ie, we went to church every Sunday. We children went to Catholic schools and I liked learning about God, the Bible and our religion.

From childhood on, we were always involved in our church's life. None of this was any big deal to us. We enjoyed being a part of it. In fact, in our youth, it formed the basis of our social lives. Scouts, guides, choirs and groups for people of all ages abounded then.

I loved the sense of belonging and the pattern of our lives; the feasts, the fasts, the high days and holidays. I loved knowing our parents' friends and their knowing us and following our lives as we grew up.

As children, we didn't understand most of the Mass but I always loved the physicality of the 'smells and bells'. I only remember one 'fire and brimstone' sermon. It didn't upset me because the God I believed in, and still do, wasn't one bit like that.

Then, of course, there were the hymns - with the great tunes! Many Catholic hymns were powerful and passionate and that suited me. As I've grown older, I've realised that I learned a great deal of vocabulary from the language of the hymns but without noticing it at the time. Many of the phrases and lines come unbidden into my mind now.

It has been my pleasure to go to Mass on a Sunday (or latterly, a Saturday evening) every week of my life, unless poorly. On holiday, it was always one of our first tasks to find the local church and the times of the Masses, something which my husband and I always liked to do. In fact, we enjoyed the change of priests and people we met.

On one occasion, whilst in Blackpool for his work's weekend Christmas do, we were mesmerised when, at the homily, the young priest sat down on a chair in front of the altar and called the children to come out to him. They came running from all over the church to sit around him on the floor. He talked to them and asked them questions and they absolutely loved it. That was pretty special.

What was it that I liked about being a part of the church? I have always seen it as a church of saints and sinners and we have a full share of both, then as now. I liked the depth of the teaching and the simplicity and warmth of some of the popular services of our youth, such as what was known as Benediction, on a Sunday afternoon. However, shame-facedly, I have to say that, like many young people, I found the Rosary boring then - all those Hail Marys! (I don't now!)

What I've loved most is being part of a community of 'salt of the earth' people. Of course, not everyone is a 'salt of the earth' person and many of us get on each other's nerves. The priests are no exception either. Most of us have had priests we really got on with and others, we didn't, but the favourites are usually those who are humble. Mostly, they are just like the rest of us, human, with all our faults and failings, strengths and weaknesses but also our gifts.

So that's what being a Catholic has meant to me. I have loved the many connections I've had with other Christian Churches and their people over many years. For personal reasons, the Methodists are way up there and I love our local Anglican community but I'll always be happy to carry on 'being a Catholic'.

Although the social aspect of our lives has changed greatly as time has gone on and there are so many other outlets for families and people in general, being a part of a community which is founded on belief in God and trying to live out our lives in recognition of the great commands to know and love God and others is, for me, the greatest and best way to find security and freedom.

About circumstances and choices and the mystery of life

We are all a product of our circumstances and choices,

from before our birth until now,

many of which we may neither know nor, if known, understand.

No wonder life's a mystery and struggle so often.