How's this for another true confession from this lifelong Protestant tinged with Catholicism? For several years now I have worn the brown scapular.
Yes, the scapular of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Since it's hidden beneath my shirt, nobody need ever be the wiser. Two little rectangles of brown wool, one on my chest, one on my back, joined by brown cords. Sewn on them, embroided images of Our Lady of Guadalupe. And attached to it all, several small sterling silver religious medals.
The scapular is vurra, vurra Catholic, though in these post Vatican II days I find it's obscure even among the Catholic faithful. I recently asked a Catholic friend of mine, and he only just barely knew, after cudgeling his brains, what a scapular was.
Suffice it to say that my mariology is more Catholic than Protestant (though not even Luther, you know, dared disavow devotion to the Blessed Virgin). This is another one of those points where, I myself know not quite how, I find myself pulled more and more Romeward.
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