The Catholic Church that I go to has been under renovation for the past few months. Each Sunday, as I take a seat, I look around to see the changes from the previous week. The new carpet, hardwoods, upholstery, paint on the walls, etc. It was a pretty dated looking church when I started going, but now it looks a little more “fresh” and modern.

I don’t know anyone that attends the church when I do and even through the renovation, I’ve continued go for the following reasons. 1). It’s close to my house. 2). they do a 7:30am mass and 3). I need to worship somewhere.

The 7:30am mass is important because, as I was doing my research on churches in the area, there’s not another English speaking mass within 10 miles of me till after 9am and I don’t want to go to church that late in the day. I want to get my “God on” and get home to make breakfast. I’m the only one in our house that attends church and the rest of the people that live in the house (the wife and kids) will force me to eat something I don’t want for breakfast. The person that wields the spatula is the person that decides what’s for breakfast!  In our house, we all eat the same thing or you go hungry.   Let me clarify- I don’t like sweets for breakfast. It’s not healthy for me to eat sugary cinnamon rolls and such, so to prevent those from being made, I have to be home in time to make everyone food. If I allow these people to continue to make breakfast decisions without me, I’d be a full blown diabetic by now (I am only a type 2) More on that topic at a later time perhaps…

Also, I would like to mention that this church has been struck by lightning three times in the past 10 years?! It adds nothing to this story, but I thought I would share that tidbit of trivia with you. Crazy right?

One of the things all non-Catholic people know about us Catholics is that we kneel a lot. There are two times during the service where we are encouraged to kneel. A few moments before we take communion and right after we take communion. As the mass went on this past Sunday, I came back from communion (that wafer/wine/body/blood thing), pulled out the bench for kneeling and closed my eyes.

Here’s something I’ve never shared with anyone, but I’m sharing with you today. During this time of prayer and reflection, I go down my list of people and things I am thankful for each week. I say (in my head) “thank you God for this person and that, etc.” After that, I then have a one way conversation with all the dead people in my life. Mainly my two dead brothers and I ask them to look out for me. To watch over our family and to guide me to make the best decisions. These are the only people, besides God, I consistently ask for help. Yeah, I know, it sounds crazy, but that’s what I do. I ask dead people to help me.

As I knelt down this past Sunday, something strange happened. I closed my eyes, like I usually do, and suddenly felt something crawl across my arm. I guess, with all the construction at the church, it stirred up a bunch of things. Including bugs. As I was going through my list of people and things to be thankful for, a cockroach the size of my thumb crawled in front of me and was headed towards my shoulder!  I flicked it off and it scurried across the floor and out of site. I thought about stomping on it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it before it disappeared. It disrupted me in my request for guidance and help. It robbed me of my “me” time.

It was a moral, spiritual and comical dilemma! Can you kill something in the house of the Lord?  Would Jesus, Mary and Joseph be cool with that?  I’m sure other people saw me flick it off my arm and probably wondered why I didn’t kill it. I’ve never had a problem with killing these things before, but never had to think about doing it at church. I’ve done some odd some things at church in my past (like smooching girls) but never have I ever killed something!

Two minutes later the cockroach resurfaced and some other guy, while the church bake sale announcements were being read, stomped on it with his cowboy boot. Obviously, he has no spiritual issue with killing the bug and it probably won’t come up in confession. What’s the penance for killing a cockroach? A few “Our Fathers” and a “Hail Marry”?

So, about those dead people I talk to while kneeling at church. One of the things I am struggling with in life is asking for help. Asking people in my life to back up a second and allow me to be a little selfish. This has been a longtime challenge for me. A lot is asked of me from friends, family and people I work with and I give my time to others pretty liberally. I don’t, however, do a great job of giving back to me. I don’t do “me” days and life moves pretty fast to the point where I forget to stop and breathe.  I’ve written many chapters on the subject over the years and I recently told myself that this New Year will be the time that I force myself to focus on this part of my life. To seek out actual LIVING people in my life to help me work out an issue or some mental thing that I can’t seem to shake on my own. To do a better job of saying “no” to those who take advantage of my time or aren’t as supportive as I am with them.  To continue to not pass up teaching opportunities, but at the same time, push pupils to come to a resolution without me painting the entire picture. (The old “teach them to fish” thing).

If you are struggling with this same concerns, and I know a lot of you can identify with me, #Tryharder to take better inventory of your life. You have to have the healthiest version of yourself in order to best take care of those who need you. People you love will steal your time and energy, and that’s ok, but you have to know when to pause for a moment and allow yourself to refuel. You have to ask for help or at least a pause and sometimes you just have to take it, focus on you and put others on the backburner.

I left work a little early today, and as my wife and kids were out shopping, came home and wrote this. I didn’t call my wife to tell her I was home or even on my way home. Today, I gave myself forty-five minutes of “me” time. I didn’t ask for it, I just took it. It’s not much, but it’s a start and certainly not something I would have done a year ago or even three months ago.

But now they are home…. so that means it’s time for me to make dinner.

Baby steps.