Put this together with Gill Rapley’s Baby Led Weaning stuff, and you might just have something.
Can I be honest?
Horribly, brutally and probably quite untactfully honest?
The hardest thing about becoming Catholic isn’t the opposition from Protestants, the weakening of friendships, the moving someplace new, the getting to know new people or the learning a new theological and liturgical language. That’s hard – but it’s also worth it. And it isn’t the relics or the saints or the pope or purgatory or anything to do with Mary. That stuff turns out to be the biggest blessings.
No, the hardest part is the lukewarmness. It’s the mushy, milky, wishy-washy, watered-down goo that seems to characterise so much of the Catholic Church – at least around where I live.
It’s the baby’s food we all seem quite content to live on, it’s the parishes that are fine with the status quo, it’s the desultory weekly mass where we go, we do our thing, maybe grab a cuppa, and then we leave…
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