25/365 I'm not as Catholic as I thought I was

Huh.

I've been dabbling in genealogy again. I do that when I need to kick other bad habits or when I need something, anything, besides facebook to stare at when it's late at night and the computer is free. And it turns out I'm about half German and the other half is split, not evenly, between Irish and English--although the English is really Norman and we can trace it back incredibly far into France and beyond.

The English, of course, were not Catholic (recently Methodist, and before that, Anglican). The Irish, just as obviously, were--we were from western Ireland. The Germans I always simply assumed were, since the ones close at hand down in Perryville, my goodness, sent a priest to scope the place out before they moved en masse to southeast Missouri. This always makes me laugh a bit. The idea that Fr. Miguel would go find a good place for us to settle down in, say, Mongolia, and then send us 140 character messages on twitter to tell us where to go.

But recently I started looking through my grandmother's father's side of the family. Someone else has already done the hard part for me and all I have to do is click to accept once I see that the dates match and the names make sense. I prefer hunting for the Irish amongst the diaspora as opposed to this orderly (German) way of having it all spelled out for me. But it is good to get done as well.

But I was looking closely at the records and things just didn't seem...Catholic. And a quick Google search (of course) found what I suspected. Lutherans. I was disappointed, I'll admit. But then I looked at some other records.

Mennonites!

I will not hide my excitement.

I know it has nothing to do with my current parish life. But it made me want to call the one Mennonite friend I have and tell her. Dork that I am. I'll probably tell her anyway when I see her (our daughters attend the same school).

But what it does have to do with, parish-wise, is conversion. My mother's mother converted from Methodism. Obviously somewhere along the line somebody converted from Lutheranism. And how did the Mennonites get mixed up with Catholics in Pennsylvania, home of the Quakers, anyhow?

It always fascinates me to hear stories of conversion. Some convert, I'm sure, because of a friend or a spouse. A few from going to Catholic school. But I always marvel at the ones that come alone--or with a casual acquaintance who told them, sure, I'll take you to church...the spirituality of the human heart fills me with a great joy. And although I remain Catholic, I understand those who leave better sometimes than those who join. At least, those who leave for something (instead of for nothing). Search, seek, come and see. Or bloom where you're planted. But be alive.