I don’t wanna!
I’ve said a few times on here that Catholicism can be hard. It’s sheer definitiveness can make it that way. But then again, the Cross wasn’t easy, either.
In my life there have a been a few big issues that contrasted what I want with what God wants. The first was birth control.
I want kids–those of you that read regularly know that is NO shock. But with CF, and now transplant, getting pregnant is one of those super-touchy-feely things. You can’t just “get” pregnant. You have to plan it like you’re planning the Omaha Beach invasion. Nurses ask me, pretty matter of course, whether or not I use birth control. It’s sort of a moot point ,regardless, since I don’t have a boyfriend now, but when I was engaged this was a doozy.
Obviously I was not going to use birth control. Fiance OK with this–for awhile. Then we began to fight about it. He didn’t want me to die for a baby. I said I didn’t want to be engaging in sinful behavior. I asked multiple priests whether or not a woman in my condition could use birth control. They said yes. I read the Catechism. It wasn’t quite so malleable (it’s late, but I’ll have the cite later for y’all). And I was torn.
I remember a discussion I had with my best friend about this. I said it really came down to how much I trusted God, didn’t it? Because God doesn’t give us more than I can handle (I did, and still do, believe this). She agreed that it was important to do what God wanted (for the record, she’s Lutheran, so this wasn’t like a fellow Catholic was shooting me the party line.). I prayed. I really agonized over this. And, in the end, it was one of the points that caused our relationship to end.
This has always been a problem with whomever I’ve dated. I don’t normally date casually–life’s too short, you know? So I figure I better stay on God’s good side. 
But this was an agonizing decision. I didn’t want to give up love. But I didn’t want to go against my faith, which has been my only constant.
The second issue is end of life stuff. Before my transplant, I wrote dozens of letters to people, and planned my funeral. Even if I did get the call, there was no guarantee of surviving major surgery. So I wrote it all down. I chose the “Suffering Servant” passage from Isaiah, the gospel where Jesus raised Lazarus. I chose hymns. And I told my parents that, if I was unable to make decisions for myself, I asked them to do what the Church required. Of course, the excellent Children’s Chaplain (the irreplaceable Fr. Mark) would be able to help them, since he was ministering there at the time. What the Church said, we would do.
Thinking about your own death when you’re 22 is not fun, let me tell you. But I’m glad I did it. It helped me solidify what is really important. Believe me, when I say that Catholicism can be hard, that Christianity can be hard, I know. I’ve struggled with the doctrine too. And for me, I’ve found that submitting to it is the way I find peace.
