Mysterious Ways 

A Tale of Heartbreak, Catholicism, & Leonardo DiCaprio

I remember being face down on Maria’s loft bed sobbing puddles onto the sheets. There were Wendy’s chicken nuggets within reach but I couldn’t possibly eat them. Not at a time like this. That’s when you know something is really wrong with me. If I can’t bring myself to enjoy those bite-sized fast food delights then it’s likely I’ve lost my will to live. It may seem melodramatic, but on that night I had. My boyfriend had broken up with me. And at twenty-one years old this was devastating.

When he broke up with me I was sure I knew the reason why I was so unlucky in love. You see, I was raised Catholic. That’s not the whole reason but, you know, it’s definitely part of it. I made my first communion as Catholic children do and during this ceremony you eat the little round bread wafer that is (allegedly) the body of Christ. I wasn’t allowed to drink the wine, considered the blood of Christ—which is quite morbid, but I digress. So that’s the communion. You get old enough, you learn a bunch of prayers, and you eat the Jesus bread. During this ceremony you get to wear a pretty white dress and a veil. (If you’re a girl, of course; this is the Catholic church we’re talking about.) I was very excited to wear this white dress.

Here’s the thing. Disney channel had just started showing re-runs of Growing Pains with a young pre-Titanic Leonardo DiCaprio. I was in love. So naturally while I walked down the aisle in my pretty white dress and lace veil, I pretended I was getting married to Leonardo DiCaprio instead of focusing on accepting the holy body of our Lord and Savior Jesus H. Christ.

Being raised Catholic I have that thing they call “Catholic Guilt.” It’s not just a saying. It’s a real, legitimate thing. And while sifting through my break-up I was positive that I had been cursed to a life of old maidhood, due to the romantic thoughts I had about Leo when I was supposed to be prepping to eat some God crackers.

Two years after being heartbroken on Maria’s bed while she asked me, “Are you sure you don’t want these nuggets?” with a concerned look on her face, I fell in love again. Two and a half years later I found myself in the kitchen of my boyfriend’s parents’ house laughing with his wonderful family.

His Aunt began to tell me a story about how years ago while vacationing in Italy she saw Leonardo DiCaprio very inappropriately tonguing a model at a restaurant. It reminded me of my first communion, my post break-up certainty of a cursed lonely life, and how melodramatic I can be.

I looked over at my boyfriend, more in love than I’ve ever been, and realized that the Lord works in mysterious ways.

Then I thought, “I wish I had eaten those nuggets.”

So have some faith. And eat your nuggets.