321. Church

I went to church for the first time in years. Most people know that I am not a very religious person - swearing like a sailor is the first dead give away. But I was baptized and raised Roman Catholic. My mom left the Church after my parents decided to get a divorce. Divorce was not an option as a Catholic, so she could have her marriage annulled and her children determined to be illegitimate, or just leave the faith behind... hard choice? I continued to go to church with my Grandma for a good chunk of my childhood and at some point decided that it wasn't for me. My other Grandmother once told me that god was a fairytale to her. She wasn't exposed to early enough in order to believe. But I was. And although I left religion behind years ago, I do believe in god... may be not the benevolent-male-figure-in-a-white-robe kind of god, but I do believe in the idea of spirituality.

When I was about 12 years old my brother Matt and I each had albino cockatiels. We were given them as a replacement for the parakeets that died saving the family from carbon monoxide poisoning. The cockatiels were great pets and I spent hours training them. One day I walked out of the house with them on my shoulder. For some reason, Spike, my brother's bird, flew away. He was gone - high and far in a matter of seconds - a yellow dot disappearing in the blue sky. I felt terrible and for the next week I did the only thing I knew how to do to remedy the situation - I prayed. I prayed for days, and days. I made a promise to always believe in god if I could only get Spike back for my brother. At the end of 7 days (magic number) of non-stop prayer, I walked out one morning to hear the bird's unique song not far away. I looked across the street in the direction of the neighbor's house. Way up in the tree, a very tall white ash, at the very top was a bright, yellow, little cockatiel. My brother climbed the 50 foot tree to try to retrieve Spike which enlisted another round of instant prayers as visions of my brother plunging to his death terrified me more than the bird's demise. In the end, all was good. The bird and brother returned safely to the nest. The bird lived until the ripe old age of 20 years, impressive for the species. But in the end, solidified, my belief, not in religion but in god.