Spirituality, Rosaries And Learning About Religion

So I start off today writing about something that caught my interest while reading. I just bought the book Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and while reading it I came across a part in the book where she talked about how she started praying for the first time. Now I know it doesn’t seem odd right now but when she started to pray for the first time she was 31 years old, kneeling on her bathroom floor at about three in the morning. Gilbert talked about how she had never prayed before and it was new to her- talking to God. And it really interested me.

Why? Well because I do the same thing, kind of. Only I’ve prayed before. I’m Catholic, but not a devote Catholic. I don’t claim to be religious. I try to stay away from that. I think of myself as spiritual. And I like that. I don’t go to Church. I don’t go to mass. I don’t pray often. I say the rosary maybe once every two are three months, even though I have two rosaries. I swear like a trucker and use the lord’s name in vain.

But. I don’t think that I’m a bad person.

I treat others as I would want to be treated. I believe that you should always smile at everyone you meet because you never know what kind of battle they are going through. I hold doors open for everyone. I make sure I don’t litter. I put things back where I find them in the store. I always ask the cashier/waitress/sales clerk how his/her day was too. And I honestly want to know. I love my friends and I let them know that. I let the people I love and care about know how I feel. If there is someone new at work I try to make a point to be friendly and welcome them in because I know how it can feel coming into a new environment. I respect everyone’s ideas and opinions. And I never call anyone dumb (and mean it).

What does that have to do with praying? Well, when I quit the job I’m at now for another job I started praying like nobody’s business. I’m not going to use names of places for fear that I might get a bad letter of recommendation somewhere in the future. And to clarify I left the place I’m at now (place A) to go to another day care center (place B). I had a terrible time at place B so I went back to place A where I was at before, which is where I am now. I hope that makes sense. Anyways when I left place A to go to place B I thought that I was making a smart choice. I was fed up with all the drama and the ridiculousness of place A and wanted a more professional environment. I would have never left place A if I hadn’t been offered a job from place B. I, being the silly girl that I am, thought that it was fate. Of course I have to take the job I told myself. I’d be daft not to.

Well, it turns out that I was daft for taking the job. I can’t exactly explain why I disliked the job so much, because I myself haven’t come up with a good explanation yet. I loved my co-workers. Well, most of them. I do miss quite a few of them. I didn’t like the kids. They were terribly naughty. The structure wasn’t great. There were virtually no toys. The rooms were pretty bare. I didn’t like the way that snack was done. I didn’t like the set up of the room. I didn’t like the rules. Oh and I didn’t like that I got in trouble a lot. My boss hovered over me. And examined everything I did. And pointed every tiny thing that I did wrong out. For example; one day I was in the main building with the older kids and switched off the light to get the kids’ attention. My boss comes out from her office and yells at me to turn the light back on because I had it off for too long. I had the light off, no joke, for like 5 seconds. FIVE SECONDS! And she felt the need to walk out of her office to yell at me. And its not like she ever had private conversations. She ALWAYS talked to me about things in front of my coworkers. So I always looked incompetent. It drove me nuts.
I probably would have taken it if I had just started out there. But I’ve worked at two different day cares and both loved me. Not to say that place B didn’t love me. They gave me lots of compliments. But I couldn’t handle the criticism.

Now, the point of the story. It got so bad that I prayed. I prayed on my way to work, I prayed when I got off of work. I prayed at work. I prayed to God and Jesus and Mary to help me get through the day. I prayed and thanked them for helping me survive another day. I prayed to them at night and asked them to make tomorrow go by fast. It got to the point where I started bringing my rosary to work with me. I would sit in my car before I had to go in and just clutch my rosary and pray. And then I would slip it over my head, around my neck and tuck it underneath my shirt.

When I told one of my best friends that I was praying, they decided that maybe it was time for me to quit. So I made up some kind of excuse because I’m a wimp and couldn’t just flat out say I hated it and I quit.

It felt like a HUGE weight was lifted off my shoulders.

Total time at place B? Two Months. Felt like? Five Years.

Next step: Beg for old job back. And that’s what I did. Ok, well I didn’t beg. I called my old boss and asked her if they still had a position open for me. We had a long talk and she said that they’d love to have me back. I was forever grateful. The nice thing about place A was that even though I quit they were always great about it. They said that I shouldn’t hesitate to call if I ever needed anything. And boy did I need a favor after leaving place B.

I felt like I was back at home. The kids had missed me and I had missed them. The parents had missed me. My co-workers had missed me. And it was good to be back. Back to the familiar, to the structure, the bright colors, the mellow/dramatic/fun/intense/comical work environment. It really did feel great to be back.
I can’t say that I’m not frustrated now. Because I am. Things are kind of going to the drain as we speak. And its frustrating and everyone is upset. And me, being the mellow-dramatic person that I am, threaten to quit at least three times a day. Not to my boss of course. But to my co-workers when I’m on one of my rants.

But.

No matter how stressed I am… I haven’t prayed or pulled out my rosary.


I know some of you might find that offensive. And I’m sorry. I feel terrible that the only time I do seem to pray is when I’m in need or going through a difficult time. I feel like some kind of half-Catholic. Like I’m doing a disservice to me and the religion by acting this way.

I’m working on it though. I have my reservations about the religion. I’m still figuring out what I believe and what works for me. And well… I’ll keep you updated.