Glass Collage: From Catholic to Born-Again

By Eva Gelini

Glass Collage is an intriguing memoir of Eva Gelini’s faith journey as a Catholic musician. Eva succeeded in her childhood dream of becoming a Catholic Church organist and, later, a Catholic liturgical music director. Along the way, she collected many cuts, scars, and bruises from the church leadership. In addition, when the scandals associated with the Catholic Church came to light, her 30-year career and livelihood abruptly concluded, leaving her jobless, defenseless, and forced into a midlife career change. While attempting to nourish her wounds and desiring peace and counsel, Eva prayed that God would guide her in the right direction. And He did, leading her to a place she never dreamed of being.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Feb 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9798385007943

Eva Gelini

Eva Gelini received her BA in Liturgical Music while studying organ, piano, voice, and religion. In her 30-year career, Eva has served as a Catholic music director, organist, pianist, and vocalist for more than one hundred Catholic churches across the United States. She has directed more than thirty-five choirs, ensembles, and cantor programs. Eva enjoys her church, the gym, playing Mahjong, crafting, reading, writing, dining out, sending cards with stickers and working with local charities. Eva especially enjoys visiting her daughter, son-in-law, and new grandbaby in Norway. Her weekly fellowship with The Lord’s Ladies Bible study enriches her faith journey, providing insight into the scriptures to accompany her daily walk with God.

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Copyright © 2024 Eva Gelini.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

844-714-3454

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

All scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved

ISBN: 979-8-3850-0793-6 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-0792-9 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-0794-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023917648

WestBow Press rev. date: 03/20/2024

Contents

Acknowledgements

Preface

Chapter 1 Amethyst

Chapter 2 Sapphire

Chapter 3 Topaz

Chapter 4 Ruby

Chapter 5 Violet

Chapter 6 Emerald

Chapter 7 Rose Quartz

Chapter 8 Citrine

Chapter 9 Blue Topaz

Chapter 10 Garnet

Chapter 11 Alexandrite

Chapter 12 Peridot

Chapter 13 Fluorite

Chapter 14 Aquamarine

Chapter 15 Sunstone

Chapter 16 Rhodonite

Chapter 17 Jade

Chapter 18 Turquoise

Chapter 19 Morganite

Chapter 20 Coral

Chapter 21 Opal

Chapter 22 Jasper

Chapter 23 Diamond

Chapter 24 Tanzanite

Chapter 25 Tourmaline

Chapter 26 Shattuckite

Chapter 27 Pearl

Chapter 28 In Closing

Afterword

Post Questions

Notes

Acknowledgements

I send lots of hugs and gratitude to June Johnson for eagerly and lovingly accepting the challenge of editing Glass Collage. While she continues her work to save the bees, her ease and passion for grammar saved me. God bless you, June! You are truly one of His own.

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Publicly sharing personal stories puts anyone in a vulnerable position, but with Lacie Setsaas by my side, courage overruled any doubt. Thank you, Lacie! Your global career is budding while you continue to blossom. May God bless you and yours!

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My sincere thanks to Dana. Your friendship is enduring. Your love for the Lord is immeasurable and continually flows to all those in your presence. Thanks for giving me support and encouragement to endure this exploration. You are many rays of sunshine! God bless you!

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"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by

prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your

requests be made known to God; and the peace of

God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard

your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."

(Philippians 4:6, 7)

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Preface

While the incidents in this memoir are true and based on my real-life experiences, the opinions contained within are my own. Glass Collage is not meant to offend anyone or any religious faith. Please note that I am not a Catholic basher, I am not anti-Catholic, and I am not in any way a Bible scholar.

In the event that reading Glass Collage raises any questions or oppositions regarding one’s personal faith, believers are encouraged to conduct their own research to resolve their curiosities. Each chapter of Glass Collage represents a sharp-edged piece of crystal glass. Read on to see how these invasive fragments came to be my beautiful Glass Collage.

The names in this book have been changed to protect and further bless their identity.

1

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AMETHYST

I grew up in a picturesque small town. It was a quaint little town that offered a safe and stable upbringing for myself and my two brothers. It accommodated churches of various denominations, boutique shops, and family-owned diners. The streets showcased modest homes lined with oak and maple trees. The people were friendly, and everyone knew one another. In my days of youth, it was common for folks to sit on their front porches, visit with their neighbors, and wave to passers-by.

It was the kind of town where, as a child, you could leave your house after breakfast, play all day, and return home safely in time for dinner, or supper as we called it. There happened to be a neighbor girl who was my age. She lived across the street from me. We became friends and played together most days. Often, the two of us would take off and venture into the woods just a few blocks away. We would play in the woods for hours, sometimes all day, without touching base with our families. Besides, there was no way to get in touch with anyone or to reach home except by running back or finding one of the random pay phones in town. Now, I am dating myself. There never seemed to be a sense of worry about safety. At least not like there is today. Can you imagine? The good Lord was keeping watch over us young girls. Thank you, Jesus!

Growing up, we had a dog named Scruffy. While Scruffy was considered the family pet, he was my pet. He and I were tight, best friends, you might say. He always wanted to be with me, and I, with him. I liked feeling his fur next to my skin when we sat together under the big oak tree in the backyard. His favorite game consisted of a pair of oversized work pants and one of us kids. Whichever one of us slipped on the slacks, Scruffy would pounce onto his prey and fight to remove the pants. The struggle continued until Scruffy succeeded in removing the pants. It was comical and quite remarkable to watch.

Scruffy was an outdoor dog but was allowed in the basement on extreme weather days. I would guess that Scruffy was a mix of German shepherd and wolf. I say German shepherd because Scruffy always protected me like a German shepherd would. And I say wolf because if he felt anyone was threatening me or saw anyone touching me (in a friendly way), he would reach attack mode in less than one second and was ready to devour the source.

Scruffy and I were inseparable anytime I stepped outside to play in the yard. If I walked uptown with a girlfriend, Scruffy walked with us. If I rode my bicycle, Scruffy was running along beside me. If I played my flutophone, Scruffy would voluntarily sit next to me on the back steps and sing (howl) along. We had one of those sturdy plastic kiddie pools in the backyard that only stood a few feet deep. You know, the ones that were bright blue with fish painted on them. Scruffy didn’t mind the fish and never hesitated to step into the pool with me to cool off on the humid Midwest summer days. He was my buddy and never ceased to watch over me and our home. With paws directly on the ground, perhaps he was safeguarding me from any glass or stone remnants.

I remember one day, much to Scruffy’s surprise, we had a substitute postman—a mail carrier whom Scruffy did not recognize. The next thing we knew, Scruffy had the poor man cornered on our front porch. That night, my dad explained the liability that Scruffy was creating for our family and that we needed to find a new home for him. It was becoming too risky having him around with his temperamental personality. Dad said he would ensure Scruffy went to a good, loving family. Well, that news broke my heart.

Dad ended up finding a new owner for Scruffy about seven miles away. Shedding tears, we took our beloved doggie to his new owner in the country. We gave our final hugs to our precious dog and left him with his new owner. I cried all the way home. A week later, the new owner called my dad to say that Scruffy was missing from her home. Oh, more trauma! I remember praying that Scruffy would be safe and have food to eat. He had never been all alone. He always had me to watch over him, or at least that’s what I thought.

A short time after that phone call, Scruffy showed up at our doorstep. He had run away from his new owner and returned to our home, where he belonged. At that point, Dad decided we could keep Scruffy with some boundaries in place. I was thrilled. My four-legged friend was back! Just what I had been praying for. I was confident that the Lord had heard my prayers.

I was very fond of cute, furry animals when I was young. Still am. Scruffy sensed this in me and willingly surrendered any cute furry critters to me. I can’t count the baby bunnies that Scruffy brought home to me. I guess he found them in the bushes and shrubs near our house. He never hurt them, as far as I know. He would carry them by the nape of their little necks and willingly surrender them to me. I would bottle-feed them, nurse them, and send them on their way when they were ready. I was very compassionate at heart. I realize now that turning them loose was not the best plan, but I was only a child and thought I was contributing to the wildlife population.

During elementary school, Mom and Dad were remodeling our home. One particular day, they were cutting holes in the floor for the registers to lay. Not all the openings had been covered, leaving a few open holes in the floor. One of my baby bunnies hopped into one of the empty holes in our kitchen floor and disappeared from my eyesight. I knew where the bunny was because I could hear the little critter scratching on the metal tubing as he tried to get out. I just knew the poor thing would burn up, and I am sure the neighbors could hear my screams of concern. My dad had to leave his job and come home to rescue the little bunny. Dad cautiously undid all the vent work from the basement up to the kitchen to retrieve my bunny. I was happy but needless to say, Dad was not. It’s funny now, not funny then.

Scruffy, of course, is the star of my personal favorite childhood activity. I would hop on my bike with Scruffy running along beside me. We would ride for hours through my hometown. I rode uptown, downtown, and through the park. I might stop and chat with someone for a bit, but then, back to my bike. It was always fun to bike to my church, circle the parking lot, and then cycle a few laps around the building while admiring the beautiful stained-glass windows. I thought, and still think, my hometown church is gorgeous. My interest in church structures has not ceased. To this day, I enjoy traveling and spotting the different church structures along the way. I tend to favor the old stone, picturesque churches.

The streets of my hometown were mainly paved, but cobblestone remained on some, which gave it a vintage feel. I was comfortable riding alone with Scruffy and knew how to maneuver the secret paths and trails. As I rode, the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle and lilacs from random bushes filled my head and remained there for hours. Such pleasantries from God.

Whatever turf I was to venture, my last stop was always the local elementary school. I liked swinging on the swings and sliding down the slide. I had taught Scruffy to follow me up the stairs to the top of the eight-foot slide. Very strategically, he engaged one step after another on his ascent. When he reached the top of the slide, Scruffy would carefully turn around and sit atop the slide. Once I had cleared the slide and given him a signal, he would slide down to the pavement on his bottom. I thought he was the most incredible dog ever, and we had so many fun times together. Several years later, Scruffy passed on. It broke my heart but was also my first lesson in realizing that everything changes and life is inevitable.

My two brothers and I were each two years apart and had quite different personalities and characteristics. We were not really close while growing up. I hardly recall ever playing together, except for an occasional snowball fight. They had their friends, and I had mine. Like a lot of siblings, we encountered some speed bumps. I wish that some guidelines and boundaries would have been set between us instead of having a free-for-all each time we disagreed. Some established rules would have better equipped us to work through our issues and communicate effectively. It took some time, but we are closer today than ever. Communication is vital, but maturity, prayer, age, and wisdom can change many things.

My parents were Catholic and raised us the same. All three of us attended Catholic grade school from grades one through eight. As Catholics do, we were all baptized around three months old, had our reconciliation around first grade, received our first Communion in second grade, and our confirmation in seventh or eighth grade—depending on when the bishop would make his next biennial visit. In school, we had our daily religion classes and were taught Catholicism. We attended Mass with our class a couple of times a week in addition to attending weekend Mass with our family. For the most part, I was a good little girl. I consistently said my morning and bedtime prayers, and regularly recited my rosary. I strived to be nice to people, help others, and do what the Lord wanted me to do. Sometimes, I was even ridiculed for my desire to please God.

I was also a very kindhearted young girl and despised actions like belittling or poking fun at someone. My Catholic school was no different than other schools in this manner. There was a sweet young girl at our school, and she had become very ill. Because of her illness, she had lost all of her hair. Kids, being kids, made fun of her. It just happened that her class and my class shared the same recess time. I empathized with her and resented how the other kids treated her. I befriended her, and we played together during recess. We became playground friends. I also befriended another girl in my school who had a speech impediment. Again, the kids would tease her because of her speech issue. It took a while for her to complete a sentence, and the other kids had no time to let her finish what she wanted to say. So, they would mock her. I also felt sad for her