It’s The Little Things, A Lesson in Yogurt Theology …

… As cliche as it sounds, yes, sometimes it is quite literally the littlest things that bring you about. You don’t need me to tell you things have been unremarkable and quite boring around here lately. I’m positively frozen in place, unable to write. Seized by a severe case of the doubts and intimidated by the talent Patheos has been acquiring.

Oh, and there’s that incessant voice in my head telling me I gotta lot nerve, sister, writing a Catholic blog. “When was the last time you prayed that “boring prayer”- your words, not mine – the rosary” it hisses at me. “Fraud! Fraaaaaauuuuuud!”

And then I wrote my editor this needy email asking for advice on how to shut the nagging voice in my head up. Begging her to tell me I don’t suck. Yes. Really. I did this. She said basically everyone is feeling a bit like this lately and for me get my shit together and just write something. Only she didn’t say it like that because she’s nice and nothing at all like me.

Determined by her words, I spent two hours this evening staring at a blank page trying to will myself to write. This was becoming an all too familiar scene. Exasperated, I gave up and decided to eat instead. I congratulated myself on this decision because, hey, it least I didn’t give up and start drinking instead.

Since I am emotional eater I don’t keep a lot of junk food in the house. Because of this the best I had laying around was yogurt. Greek yogurt. Honestly, why do I keep buying that stuff when I hate it so much? I really do want to like it because it seems like it’s something I am supposed to like. Maybe I was just buying the wrong kind. Surely one of brand or flavor will be palatable. Surely.

That’s kind of how I’ve been feeling lately, like everything is unpalatable and tasteless. Especially my Catholic faith. I was beginning to wonder if my convert zeal had finally piqued, plateaued and subsequently plummeted. Being Catholic suddenly became as hard to swallow as nasty, bitter Greek yogurt.

I can’t muster an ounce of enthusiasm for this pope and I’d reached my limit on answering questions and providing explanations for this scandal and that… and no, I don’t want to explain to you what a rent boy is. Being Catholic had completely exhausted and drained me. Add to that the feelings of inadequacy I was experiencing and being too intimidated to write. Oy. What a mess.

All these emotions were swirling about when I went to the refrigerator and reluctantly reached for that plastic container of Greek yogurt to begrudgingly eat. But wait… what’s this?

A Greek yogurt that doesn’t suck? What witchcraft is this?!

And that was all I needed to awaken my taste buds. Something as simple as a tasty Greek yogurt brought me real joy. Trust me, it’s not as pathetic as it sounds. I just really enjoyed that yogurt. Liked licked the spoon clean enjoyed it. It reminded me that happiness is something you got to work at. If one brand of yogurt tastes like butt than try another brand. And even if you don’t exactly enjoy being Catholic right now, eventually you’ll come across something that will make it taste sweet again.

I know it’s not much and you were probably hoping for something more substantial that yogurt theology but it’s all I got right now. It’s a little thing, for sure, but I’ll take it because little things are better than no things.

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