Well, Spring is finally here in northern Illinois. My flowers are blooming, the grass is green, and a family of birds have taken up residence in my Rock City birdhouse that Beej got me. Makin' little birdy love and makin' the nest for the eggs. It's just so sweet!

S is having his first communion on Saturday. Now, I grew up Southern Baptist. My dad was a preacher (retired), so I grew up learning all about how to be a good Baptist. And I was a pretty good Baptist, up until college. Until I saw how hypocritical people could get.

Now my dad was strict about church. He was an assistant pastor for a small country church down the road from our house. He went to church every Sunday morning and evening. Without fail. While I was at college, sometimes my mom would come visit me on a Sunday. Dad never would since he couldn't miss church. It hurt my feelings, but I understood.

The semester I left for the Disney College Program, my dad stayed home from church that morning to help me pack the car and see me off. It meant a lot to me that he missed church that once. Later that evening when he went to the evening service, the church members (it was a small church remember) called him up on the carpet, so to speak, about missing church that morning!!! What the...? They told him to his face that he put me before God and that was wrong. Needless to say, my dad walked out of there and hasn't really been back to church for a long time.

This whole debacle hurt my feelings. I thought those people all liked me. It made me feel like it was all my fault. I didn't go back to church for years! Now until I met my husband.

Dave is Catholic. His whole family is Catholic. He took me to his church (in Florida where we were both living at the time) in Lake Buena Vista. I had never been in a Catholic church before. I was expecting God to strike me down or something since all my life I had been told that anyone not a Baptist was going to hell. (rolling eyes) I found out one thing: I loved going there. It was peaceful, relaxing and spiritual. SO, I started going to church every week with Dave.

I became a Catholic. I promised Dave when we had kids that they would grow up Catholic and I have kept my promise. My view of religion has changed so much over the years. I am much more tolerant, for one thing. I don't believe that only one religion is going to Heaven. I have mixed my beliefs...half Baptist, half Catholic. Maybe I'm not 100% one or the other, but I don't believe I am damned because of it. I enjoy learning about another side of Christianity. It can only broaden my beliefs and horizons.

So, Saturday, my first born will celebrate his entry into Catholicism. He sure is growing up fast. I am so proud.