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Adoration Community Theology Service

ACTS retreat at the Holy Family Center.

At first, I thought it spelled All Catholics Together in a School. Now, I don't care what it spells, because it's one of my very favorite places in the world.

My sister's been on the ACTS team for three years. She always comes back either pumped up and energetic, or very, very tired. Either way, it meant that she had fun. And since my sister does it, I was almost required automatically to go...Well, I didn't mind. I've long since stopped caring about the older sister influence.

Now, I've been to plenty of religious things. Raised Catholic as I was, albeit lukewarm, I've taken religion classes since I was 5, gone to church every week until I was 13, and every month since, had confession once a year, and so on and so forth. And personally, I found it all rather boring. I thought when I was little that I could be just like Jesus, and be friends with everyone, show them God, and stand up for my faith if I needed to.

But it was a Catholic school. And in Catholic schools, you don't NEED to stand up for your faith. It's rock-solid whenever you enter school grounds. Not everyone was Catholic or even Christian, but no one said anything about it.

And not everyone was nicer, either.

Life hit me.

And I stopped believing in it all.

See, I'm a writer. And as such, I love a good story. But as of late, I've been finding other things in stories besides plot twists...plot holes, for one thing, and grammatical errors and awkward phrasing and all this other stuff. And then I read a few Bible passages and my religion book...and truthfully, to me it all sounded like B.S. And not only was God not very God-like in a few Exodus chapters, in fact, downright sexist and cruel, but my religion book carried far too many details and specifications, and it even took the most fundamental part of the Hindu faith and completely tore it down.

Now, I love God as much as the next person. I don't deny God's existence. I just wasn't so absolutely sure if He was God or Allah or the Force or whatever, and if He was really a He, or just an It. And I liked the idea of Jesus...it seemed so heroic and exciting and real...but there were too many things that I didn't agree with. And to me, it sounded like a fantastic story, but nothing more.

But then, along came ACTS.

The first experience I had was my Drumline Captain, Luis, in a neckerchief and big mirrored sunglasses, ordering me in a desperado voice to get out of the car. And when I did, he jumped on the back and rode it to the parking lot. Then the team and the retreatants that had arrived started singing and shouting and waiting for the next car. Everyone who saw 300 that week was shouting in Ancient Greek and Yelling things like, "SPARTANS! What is your profession?" and Blake strapped his shoes--which means he's doing something extreme--and jumped over some guy's back.

Pretty normal.

But then it got weird.

We had to sing for our food, for one thing--LOUD--and then we needed a team member to serve us our food. We weren't allowed to touch it until we reached the table, or get anything ourselves. And if that wasn't weird enough, we said Mass, were marched through a very accurate representation of the Stations of the Cross, and asked--well, ORDERED--to keep complete silence until breakfast the next day.

Now, I don't like being ORDERED for anything. But I don't mind silence. I found it rather nice. It was all just a little sudden.

So, in the morning, we could all talk, and I bonded with my roomate and some new friends over Lucky Charms and a banana. The morning was spent watching skits, running around, playing ice breakers, and having the letter T explained to us. The afternoon was very much the same, only this time, it was letter C.

And then it got weird again.

After a very solemning talk about our theme, lost and found, featuring The Prodigal Son, and a general feel of heaviness and seriousness, we were given black stones to represent our sin and asked to receive confession. With my location, I was one of the first in line.

I confessed my doubts, and had a long talk with the priest. Never mind what we said, but he made me feel so much better about...just everything.

Now, Clergy and I don't get along very well. The bishop himself got extremely exasperated with me during an hour-long questions session, just like everyone thought he would. And none of them could answer my questions.

This guy was different.

And when I left, for some reason, I started crying, for the first time in ages. I still don't know why.

But then I was amazed yet again...

When I went through the door, I was given a clear stone in place of my black one, and told I was forgiven. And then, once outside, I was literally pulled to a chair, sat down, and prayed over by people I hardly knew. And they said such wonderful things to me...about how fun and nice and interesting I was, and smart and funny and all this stuff...I heard it all the time from grown-ups and my parents and such, but these were people my age, and they meant it. That resulted in several new friends, a few aquaintances, and much stronger bonds with preexisting buddies. Even Luis and I are tight now...

And then we ate S'mores.

I was pretty confused.

But no one can resist the lure of chocolate, graham crackers, AND marshmallows all in one, so I had one. Er, two. And a root beer. And then Luis got his hands on a guitar and started playing, and I found that I knew every one, and sang along. I even helped them remember the lyrics.

True, none of them were REALLY paying attention to me. But, whatever. It was fun nonetheless.

And then, Saturday came along.

The day was pretty much the same, only we were lectured on A and S, but then, we went outside for an icebreaker...

...and a white dove was perched on the roof.

It was very clean for a bird, and its eyes were bright and clear and sharp, and it didn't move an inch during the shoe game. EVen when we were shouting and running around, it wasn't scared. Everyone started joking around that it was Jesus, and I said it too...but I really felt that it was. And even if it wasn't, I named the bird Jesus...just in case.

Eventually, it flew away. I missed it. No one listened when I said so.

The day went on, and then we gathered in the common room--rather Gryffindor-ish, too--and sat at a long table, draped in white and covered with grapes and cheese (jalepeno, oddly,) and sparkling grape juice and bread. We meditated, imagining that we were at the LAst Supper, and I imagined Jesus was right next to me, in the only seat not taken. And without really thinking about it, I filled the empty cup with grape juice and set a bundle of grapes on the place, along with cheese and half of my bread.

I didn't know WHY...I LOVE bread. But it just felt right.

Someone asked me about my "invisible friend" and I said it was Jesus's spot. No one listened.

But it turns out, I was in the right. You see, an adult member of ACTS sat in the place--"Is this seat saved for anyone?" "Uh-huh. Jesus." "Yeah, okay."--and started eating the food. By then, there was no "wine", and almost no food left. But no one had touched that particular plate, and it was piled high.

So in a way, I was feeding the hungry.

Still, I would've liked to sit by Jesus. I always thought it would be cool to have a friend 24/7, who'd listen patiently no matter what. Except, it had never worked for me.

And then, it was time for the retreatants to give a testimony, if we wanted. I stood up, cleared my throat, and said...

"Well, first of all, I've never made so many friends in so little time, ever. And I love you all, and you're great. AND...I saw Jesus; we all did. You know, the bird?"

Everyone laughed.

"Yeah, I named it JEsus...only I'm sure it really was...because it was a white dove, and you NEVER see those here...and I thought it'd be really cool if Jesus was here..."

I'm not positive, but I think at that point, my sister whispered, "Sit down," to me. I started getting nervous.

"And so...if he was...that's really, really good."

I sat, they clapped. I think. The rest of the testimonies were given, and no one remembered that my sister, the ACTS team cheer-of-the-year, had a crazy little sister.

Someone had put together a slide show/video of the past three days, and we sat and watched it. It was absolutely great...they got Trevor doing the raptor dance/call, Bob the snapping turtle that my sister had found in the ditch, my across-the-hall mates and I, the shoe game (I saw Jesus in the picture as a white blur) the "scorpion fight" and my cool little twisty move, the skits, and this awesome scene where someone dressed up as Jesus fought the representations of evil in pure black, using Matrix moves and ending by spearing one with his crown of thorns.

It was amazing.

But as I watched part of a skit I'd seen, I got a little confused.

See, the skit starred Colin and Maria, who were sitting on a bench reading magazines when MAria's phone started ringing. "Ooh, a text message," she says. "Hey...it says it's from Jesus...it says he's coming."

They spend a few minutes deciphering if it's a joke or not and finally decide that it really is Jesus. They start cleaning up and sweeping, moaning about how they're not ready yet and there's so much to do, when someone knocks on the door.

It's not Jesus. It's a little girl looking for her mommy, who she lost in the park. They slam the door in her face.

There's another knock. Not Jesus this time, either, only a Boy Scout asking for help with a merit badge. The door slams yet again.

A third knock...it's an old lady, asking for assistance in crossing the street. MAria slams the door, muttering how her grandmother even got out of the house, and starts sweeping again.

The text ring sounds again, and they run to pick it up. It says, "I came three times, and you slammed the door in my face. What happened?"

And then they realize that Jesus is in EVERYONE, not just the Jewish man with the crown of thorns and the stigmata.

I really did see Jesus.

Why didn't anyone believe me?

Sunday morning, we got up and packed. There was a feel of sadness to the air; no one wanted to leave. The seniors were graduating and wouldn't be back, and we all wouldn't see each other for a year. I took out my notebook and started to write--ever since confession, my writer's block was no more. I attributed that to Jesus, too.

But then Blake's mother called me over and handed me a little white dove. She said that they were all touched by the bird, and since I obviously was, too, she wanted me to have it. And then she gave me a hug and told me it really was Jesus. I believed her.

The little white dove is still hanging around my neck, on a string that once carried a bloody nail from Stations of the Cross. I'd lost it just before I saw Jesus. It was all very strange.

I had been lonely throughout the entire retreat, no matter how many new friends I'd made. I really had once wished Jesus really DID come to everyone. I needed a friend, a really, truly good one.

I didn't get that friend, but I learned that the ones I already had really, honestly, truly tried to be what I needed...they just couldn't. They didn't mean to ignore me, and they really loved me. And I also learned that Jesus is there whenever I need someone to talk to.

As a reader and writer, I have a whole other world in my head, my own. I have friends there, ones I talk to when I'm lonely, even though they can't answer. I imagined them, and they're perfect because I said so. But they aren't real. I can't touch them or see them or hear their voices. So, perhaps I should address my thoughts to someone that still may not exist, but is a hero, and the nicest man that ever could have walked the earth.

After all...this weekend can't get any weirder.

mrgreen

WOO! *highfives*

Oooh! I love camp. I'm so excited. This year, we're going the second week of June and we have the coolest speaker in the world: Steve Osmund.

Thank you!

Anoither surprise for you all on the front page...doncha love how I keep redirecting y'all? XD

I went to a Christian camp, mainly Protestant. No one likes a Catholic there...):

They tried to convert me/disprove my religion.

Just like my religion textbook...*sigh*

.................

noe of MY business...

Mine would have been early June, but I'm going to a different camp this year because Nick persuaded me to...so I have to wait until mid-July.

I really wish I could go to both, but that'd be way too much time off of work this summer.

TOO MUCH PURPLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

X.x

I give frontier camp heart heart heart heart out of heart heart heart heart heart

They were just too godsdamned preachy...I came to ride horses and waterski, people, NOT BE CONVERTED!

Yeesh.

(I won second place by .3 of a second in the triple barrels...^^ With PC)