There is something I’ve tried not to write about in this column.
And I’ve thought long and hard about sharing this particular aspect of my life. I’ve set a certain expectation for myself when I come to this space, and I worry often about how people will react to some of the things I write about.
You see, I was taught as a child not to discuss politics or religion with people, and while 2017 makes it extremely difficult not to talk about the former, I generally keep the latter to myself.
But, we are planning a wedding here, and religion — in some form or another — always comes up.
I wouldn’t even be bringing this up if I hadn’t been rattled by something that happened recently while I was out with my mother.
We were out shopping when we ran into a family member of a neighbor who had just gotten married. In all the excitement of talking about weddings, this woman had asked me, “And you’re getting married at St. Thomas, right?”
St. Thomas is the parish I was baptized in. It’s the parish my mother was baptized in. She was married there, and watched all her children receive their sacraments in this church.
And no, I’m not getting married in St. Thomas, as you know.
In fact, I’m not being married by a priest, either. Religion is going to have as much to do with my wedding as it does with my everyday life: not a whole lot.
Which is fine with Mikey and I.
I thought it was fine with everyone until I caught a glimpse of my mother’s face while I was explaining to this woman where I was getting married.
“Are you okay?” I asked my mother as we continued shopping.
She wasn’t, she told me, but she was still going to support my decision.
That means a lot to me. I imagine it’s hard watching your child turn away from the religion you ingrained into her life from the moment she was born. I would argue I have a valid reason, and whether I’m trying to convince myself, my mother or the entire town of Archbald my reasoning is sound, the only way I…