Just one of those days.

Today I went to Mass. The article I'm reading, and preparing a thesis on, for Theology had me thinking about rituals and how they shape Christian life. For some reason I've been in an overtly gutsy mood the past 28 hours (yes, I counted) and decided to reach back to my early Christian roots and attend Mass.

It was beautiful.

Palm Sunday. Reverence. Song. Prayer. Organized and Communal.

There were no paxil plagued praises. I was not pressed to emote as a form of worship. As a woman plagued with estrogen I display unwarranted emotion at an already uncomfortable rate. This is not a criticism of Evangelical worship, but a thought about what it means to really praise God on a day to day basis. Worship is more than just a song that makes us "feel something." Worship is a daily task of pursuing Him above happiness and our own desires.

Though the entire event was not "emotionally charged" I felt more convicted and in awe of my savior than I had in a long time. In this instance it was the stripping of flash and emotion that allowed me to trust the depth of response I felt.

I received communion and it meant more to me than it has in a very long time. I might have made a spiritual faux pas but I don't think they can excommunicate me for being gone for seven years and forgetting the Apostles Creed.

I may be an Evangelically reformed Catholic, but together we may all be part of the blessed catholic church. Together.

I also went on an adventure and rode my bike to a nearby starbucks. I even bought a cheap plastic basket for the front of my mountain bike. Awkward, useful, and colorful . . . yep, that's me in a nutshell.