Jesus Had an Army



I was baptized and confirmed in the Methodist Church, yet I am drawn to the Catholic Church for reasons that I will now try and explain. As I told you in an earlier post, I was raised by a bunch of Catholics. Good Catholic mothers the likes of Clair Sill, Joany Murray, and Jean McCarville.  Good Catholic fathers like Larry Voves and Bud McCarville.


I would go to Midnight Mass with my Aunt on Christmas Eve, I had the biggest crush you could imagine on a red haired cheerleader from Cresco Notre Dame, and I went out of my way to see two sisters that worked at the local A&W Root-beer Stand. I loved to go to the Catholic weddings because everyone was invited and the dance was always full of joy and happiness.

My friends would always tell me things that they would confess to their priest. Speaking of priest, I was the only protestant kid in town that Father Harper would give the key to the Notre Dame Gym. When he wasn’t home, we always knew what windows our Catholic friends at Notre Dame would leave unlocked before they left school that day.

I learned about the Catholic religion from my friends, and I developed my values through not only my mom and dad, but their parents as well. Guilt was thrown upon us very often as we grew up, and rarely would we do much to hurt anyone.

I was introduced to the Saints by my Catholic friends; St Cecilia, St. Frances, St. Christopher, St. Patrick, St. Joseph, and the always important St. Nicholas. They taught me that I could send a message through the Virgin Mary to God. So, as I traveled the world, I would try to stick my head in the cathedrals and Catholic churches, remembering my friend Ger Terrant from Irelands advice, “It never hurts to have a priest as a fan.”

Why do I ramble about my Catholic history today? I heard the song by Reckless Kelly called “I Never Liked St. Valentine”, and here it is.