Reign of the "Coincidences"
After discovering that I worked practically across the street from the cathedral I learned that daily Mass was offered on my lunch hour. Gee, what a coincidence, I naively thought. I really did not want to go to Mass so I tried to put it out of my mind, but I discovered that God can be quite persistent when He wants something from you. I finally decided to go, just once, to put my mind at rest and hopefully get God off my back.

I had not been in a Catholic church in over 20 years and for some reason I was absolutely terrified of walking inside that church. I don't know what I thought would happen to me, but I was certain that something was going to happen. In the end, my entrance was anti-climatic. There were no lightning bolts from the sky, no one turned around to look at me and scream "heretic!" In fact no one seemed to notice me at all.

I sat in the back in a corner, hoping I would not be noticed and that no one would speak to me. What does one say to Catholics anyway? I think I need to emphasize just how alien this whole concept of church was to me at that point in my life. I thought the Church represented everything I hated; repression of women, stupid rules about contraception, out-of-touch theology with the modern world, repression of women, antiquated meaningless rituals of a dying religion, and did I mention repression of women?

So I sat in the back and the first thing I observed was the priest was an African-American. Remember, I have lived in the South all of my life. I had never seen a black priest before. This was a positive sign in my opinion, a sign of progressiveness.

Mass began and I was lost. I had no idea when to stand, sit or kneel, so I just copied the others. When it was time for the responses, I opened my mouth and the more-or-less correct words escaped of their own accord through my lips. Weird. Very weird. How could I possibly remember responses to a ritual I had not participated in for over 20 years? In fact, the entire experience of my first Mass was surreal. I did not believe I was really there.

On the way out I picked up a bulletin out of curiousity and saw an advertisement for a Welcome Home program for fallen away Catholics. "Gee, what a coincidence," I thought, "this class begins next week. Maybe I should go?"

Over the next six months there were to be so many "coincidences" I lost count.