I am extraordinarily patient, provided I get my own way in the end. ~ Margaret Thatcher

I'd like to say I'm a religious person. But I would be lying. Let's just say, I am trying to be more spiritual, whatever that means.

Tom and I go to church every Sunday and I can learn things from just about every sermon our pastor, Tammy, gives. But, it is hard for me. I wasn't brought up in a faithful home. As a matter of fact, my parents were critical of people of faith, often chiding them for "needing a crutch." I've come to learn that we all need a "crutch" at one time or another, but we don't all use the same crutches.

Anyway, I've had to explore spirituality and/or religions on my own, draw from experience and seek out what makes sense and discard what doesn't. So, I go to church. But, because I go to church doesn't necessarily mean that I believe every single word, or every single message, or every single anything. It only means that I am trying, which is the point of this post.

So, Tammy has asked me if I want to do the church newsletter. I said sure. It would mean that I have to write a little differently. I won't be able to say things like, Get your crap ready for the church garage sale! And probably, using the word "freakin'" in any context is out of the question. But, I'm flexible. I can do it. I'm trying.

And, I am also helping to decorate the alter for lent. I'm helping pick the fabric and Tom has drawn a picture of my ideas for the top and front of the alter. It will give the feeling of sand, rocks and an occasional palm tree to represent Jesus being in the desert for the 40 days. I'm trying.

I am trying. I am trying to learn. I am trying to find out what fits for me. And, I don't feel like I can make an informed decision without learning. So, here I am, trying; going to church every Sunday; trying to be a better, even nicer person; trying to give more; trying to understand; trying to be patient; and I feel like I leave church every Sunday with something for me to think about or meditate on in the coming week. I leave church feeling positive.

Then we stop at Kroger on the way home from church. We're just having nibbles for dinner. When I say nibbles, I mean sort of a-little-of-this-and-a-little-of-that finger food instead of a meal. This Sunday, Tom wanted to make some fried ravioli with marinara dipping sauce. Last night, we finally went to Michaelangelo's for dinner and ordered their version of Macaroni Grill's Bella Napoli (chips made from won-ton skins topped with crumbled sweet Italian sausage, sliced black olives, roasted red peppers and Asiago cheese sauce) and I thought we could make our own version tonight.

We enter the store in the produce section and see strawberries (which they were completely out of when I wanted some last week for the dessert panini), so I pick them up and I picked up a package of won-ton skins before leaving that section of the store. Everything was fine until we started looking for the ravioli. They didn't have any fresh ravioli...you know, like in the pasta section. The store had lots of pizza, lots of prepared dinners, lots of bags of everything else and the next thing I know, the words, JESUS CHRIST !!! fly out of my mouth, followed by GOD DAMMIT !!

Yep, I was then on a roll. Even after we found the "ravioli section", which was comprised of a bag of square cheese ravioli, a bag of small round cheese ravioli and three bags of big square beef and cheese ravioli, I was still fuming about my lack of choices (where is a Trader Joe's when you need one!!). It was freakin' this and freakin' that until Tom tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Honey, it's only ravioli. You might want to ratchet it down just a little bit."

He was right and I stopped, but I was still fuming and the young man who started scanning our groceries at the checkout counter didn't help.

CLERK: Did you find everything you needed?

ME: (pouty face and voice) Yeah, pretty much.

CLERK: Well, if you didn't find it here, you can probably live without it.

I wanted to scream, No, I cannot live without it!! In fact, I might just die unless I get some freakin' decent four cheese ravioli! I wanted to ask him if he was related to the other clerk who told me the nearly rotten zucchini would be fine since I was using it in soup! But, I didn't bother. It wouldn't have helped. I think I just made a noise that sounded sort of like a growl.

But, I'm still trying.