St. Lucy's... Still Undecided

Little fun and not-so fun facts about St. Lucy and the St. Lucy's Catholic Church in East Harlem: 

• Built in the 1900's for the Italian community in East Harlem. FUN.
• The first Ana and Joe DeVita were married there (Joey's great grandparents). FUN.
• My mother's nickname is Lucy. FUN.
• The pastor is a tiny, little Filipino and so is most of the Church parishioners. FUN. 
• St. Lucy is also known as Lucia of Syracuse, Italy. FUN.
• She was denounced as a Christian to the governor of Sicily by the man she was promised to marry because she didn't want to marry him. They tried to drag her into a brothel, burn her, and gouged her eyes out.  NOT FUN.
• But, they couldn't move or burn her. And God gave her a new set of eyes. FUN.
• They killed her. NOT FUN.
• St. Lucy is the most "kidnapped saint in paradise" because her remains kept getting stolen throughout history and she was finally returned to Syracuse in 2004. NOT FUN.

Okay, now moving on to my story...
Joe and I went to see St. Lucy's this Saturday. At first I was excited because I was finally going to see our church. I had a vision of both our families there, me walking down the aisle, and Joe waiting nervously at the altar. But as soon as we got off the subway, that excitement slowly wore off and in it's place, a faint sign of something like dread was slowly building up. And when we finally got there, I felt nothing. I had neither a pleasant or unpleasant feeling about the church which is what I was afraid of in the first place. I thought that I would instantly feel a connection-an emotional tug. Something--anything but indifference.

The Saturday mass was about to start when we got there so Joe said we should stay. So we did. And I don't know if it was the mass but I didn't even want to stay to finish the mass. I tugged at Joe and asked him silently if he wanted to leave. I probably did this twice. I felt like an antsy little child who couldn't wait to go out and play. Joey has a way about him that calms me down a bit, so he was able to convinced me to stay. He makes things a little easier to bear sometimes.

Later, after we left, I told Joe how I felt. I thought I would be more certain, like when I find the perfect pair of shoes or outfit. I recognize it instantly and know it's what I've been looking for before I even realise what I'm looking for. And it fits! I know comparing a pair of shoes to choosing the right church isn't quite in the same level of depth and importance. Nonetheless, St. Lucy's doesn't quite fit. It's the perfect story but I'm not sure exactly how I feel about it. Shouldn't I be certain about these things?

My feelings about the church doesn't change Joe's opinions about it. He likes it because it has a story. I like it because it has a story. I just wished that I felt as excited about the church as I do about the history behind it. Maybe I'll change my mind. But Joe said we should keep looking and maybe even go back to St. Lucy's on a Sunday. Maybe it'll be better on a Sunday.