My Almost Bride: A Gimpy Monologue

As with most people trying to figure out who they are, and what they want to do, I found myself contemplating something I never thought I  would.  I wanted to become a Catholic priest.  I went through all the steps that everyone said I should, my heart and soul were set on service to a God I’m not sure I believe in anymore.  I had talked to a priest whose job it was to recommend potential candidates to the priesthood,  I had him sold on the idea just like a rich dude in a brand new Lexus.  Unfortunately, the Diocese didn’t see it the same way, a few months later I received a letter that stated my application to seminary had been denied because the Diocese did not feel as though someone with my physical disposition “could adequately perform the duties of a Diocesan priest.”  Basically they were saying I couldn’t do the job because I was in a wheelchair.  Life went on until eventually…

Last weekend, I had the honor of seeing one of my best friends become a full-fledged Catholic by completing his confirmation, with me as his sponsor, an adult version of a God parent. Whilst this was a great joy, it also brought me a great deal of pain being in a Catholic Cathedral again as memories of my denial to seminary flooded my mind.  Below is a reflection on that lost love in the form of a letter, a letter to my third almost bride, the church.

It’s been seven years since we last spoke, and not a day goes by that memory ceases to dance across the meadows of my mind.  The memory of your embrace and your gentle embrace haunts me still. I remember the words of gentle encouragement you’d whisper softly in my ear, love flowing from every carefully formed and secretly special syllable. I felt a special sense of belonging when I was with you, and that feel remains my love, yet unmatched.

Yet as fond as is my remembrance of you, there will always be a great deal of pain in it for me.  For I shall never bear witness to the life and love of our children, and our love will never be consummated in my consecration to you. As I stare at your holy cross and imagine again your warm embrace, and as the tears stream down my face in memory of the day I lost my place in your beautiful body; apparently I wasn’t good enough for you.  A broken body outweighs a yearning heart I suppose.

Whilst I shall never again take part in our sacred communion in the same way, a piece of my heart will always remain given only to you.  In my own way, I will love and serve you always and forever.

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4 thoughts on “My Almost Bride: A Gimpy Monologue

  1. I think this is very sad. I wish they would have given you the opportunity to serve the Lord. I have a friend in Europe with cerebral palsy. He is trying to find an order that will accept him and he’s having a hard time. I pray for him, and I’ll pray for you.

    1. That was a rather rough period of my life, and I’m glad that it’s now behind me. I hope your friend in Europe with cerebral palsy manages to find an order who will accept him. The road to service is often a hard one anyway, but it’s sad that this segment of our society which attempts to display itself as one of the most inclusive and compassionate portions of it, is often behind the times in terms of social progress. And thank you for your prayers. And also, for reading.

      1. I totally agree. Before hearing my friends story, and then reading yours, I wouldve never guessed that things like this happened.

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