I’m gonna go all over the place with this one, so try to keep up with me.

Today I went to the Novus Ordo at St. Thomas Aquinas in Dallas. It was pretty much the best Novus Ordo I think I’ve ever been to as far as liturgy and celebration goes. They had Gregorian chant, the priest was reverent, they rang bells during Eucharistic prayer, and they even have a communion rail.

The homily was ok for what it was, considering that the scripture reading was Love One Another. Now, I am all for teaching what the scriptures read, but I’ve been Catholic for a year and I’m already sick of the God Is Love/Love One Another homilies. Even really good God Is Love/Love One Another homilies. I get that part. We get a derivative of “Love” every other week. Move beyond the Prologue of the Catechism. Please.

Sorry, it shouldn’t be a peeve. It really was a good homily for what it was. I enjoyed hearing about the parish and the family that they consider themselves to be. I wish I belonged to a Catholic family like that. The few times that I’ve visited that parish, I’ve heard about the tight family that is there, and it makes me long to be a part of a family like that. I’ve also heard that sentiment from a very popular Catholic blogger who happens to go to that parish.

This past week, I watched both segments of the PBS Frontline special on “The Mormons.” (If you haven’t watched it, you can see it in its entirety on the PBS site.) It was really interesting. It had some very faithful teachings, and some bits that I’m amazed got on the air. I thought it gave both a very interesting perspective on Mormon history as well as an accurate feel of the culture behind Mormonism.

We were watching this episode, and there was a section in the act about Missions where the little children are singing “I hope they call me on a mission.” My husband said, “Did you ever sing that song?” And I chimed in with the children, “I hope by then I will be ready … to TEACH and PREACH and WORK as missionaries do!” He found that terribly amusing. But there’s so many things that are part of me and my history that are just … useless trivia now.

Like at church today. We open up the book to sing the opening hymn at Mass today, and the song is “I Know That My Redeemer Lives.” I was like, wait, I thought this was a Mormon hymn? But then the notes were all different. But the lyrics were the same. I think that the LDS arrangement is MUCH lovelier than the version in the Gather hymnal.

Watching the special on The Mormons reminded me of how much I gave up by being a Mormon. Some of the ex-Mormons talked about missing the ties and the culture of Mormonism, and I could relate to that. I used to revel in that “in the world but not of the world”, peculiar people feeling. Being Mormon made me unique. Special. I was persecuted as a child, and even as an adult, by people who just didn’t understand. I wore my CTR Ring with pride – I’m even wearing it in my senior pictures! (I still have it in a jewelry box around here somewhere.) And in my mind, that made me a better person.

But I haven’t found that identity as a Catholic. I haven’t found the Parish that I want to commit to, although I think it might be the Latin Mass community here in Dallas. I’m not for sure, though. I haven’t made any friends there, and doubt I will unless they have a function of some kind or other, which they don’t seem to do often. They even talked about how protestant and Catholic and other Christian experiences were centered around the individual, whereas the Mormon experience revolved around family and community. And that’s true. Well, it’s my individual experience with God, not so much my individual experience with the Church. But you get the idea.

I don’t go to church because I feel pressured by my family or by my home teachers or by my community. I go to Mass because I am happy when I am there. But it is somewhat isolating.

Even the Temple scenes and the way that they talked about the Temple in the documentary made me sad. Even when I’ve seen the rituals, and the handshakes, in a book commonly available at Barnes and Noble, even when I know where ALL of the Masonic symbolism comes from and know that it is false, I still sometimes miss the Temple. I miss feeling special because I was “worthy”. I miss playing dress-up, with everyone in white. I miss the serenity and calm in the Temple. I don’t miss the Celestial Room. I was always lonely in there. I cried most of the time, begging God to please help me find my helpmeet, so that I would have a companion to sit with in the waiting area before the ceremonies begin. So that I would have someone to pull me through the veil.

Maybe it’s the idea of what was so great that I miss, not the reality. Sure, I could walk into any Mormon church in this country tomorrow and be able to go exactly to where I needed to be. I could sing the hymns and know what was going on. But would I be happy? Would I be able to feel the communion with God that I feel as I kneel before the Tabernacle before Mass, preparing to partake of the holy eucharist? Nothing not even close.

I know that I made the right decision by leaving the Mormon church, and I also know I made the right decision to become Catholic. It’s just that sometimes I remember that there will always be part of me that’s Mormon, at least culturally.