Sunday, January 1, 2012

Faith

The reality of losing a dear friend has brought my own mortality into the spot light. Kim never went to church or practiced any type of religion. She was baptized. Among many of the conversations I had with Kim, I asked her if she believed in God. She did. A priest came to see her regularly and talk with her. She believed her dad was in heaven waiting for her and that she would see him again. I believed her.

Faith. It is a word that has such enormous meaning. To believe something without proof. Stop and think about it for a minute....do you have faith that there is more to our existence than what we know? That there is more out there?

I grew up going to a Catholic school for 9 years (kindergarten through 8th grade). I always felt like a misfit. Our family wasn't truly poor, but being the third child in the family meant I wore almost entirely hand me downs. It was a rare treat that I got a new article of clothing. My brand new shoes always seemed to clash with my clothes. I didn't get the Oreo cookies in my lunch, I got the store brand version. I didn't get juice boxes. I got a thermos full of Kool Aid. The children to rather wealthy parents, as most of them were, always reminded me that I was some how not good enough. I can remember begging my mom to put me in a different school. She didn't. For a long time, I had associated religious people as being cruel and deceptive to those less fortunate and treating them as not worthy. I never wanted to feel that way again.

I also remember so many things that happened over those 9 years that turned me away from religion, not spirituality mind you. Here are some of the bigger ones that I have struggled with over the years.

I remember being told that if you did not confess all of your sins, you would not go to heaven. I asked a teacher, 'what if I die and I have not had the chance to confess all my sins?' She looked at me and simply said, 'you need to confess your sins to a priest.' Being sorry in my heart was not good enough. I remember feeling so completely unworthy. I strove for awhile to not sin and be a good Catholic girl. I always failed.

Another thing that was pounded into us was that if you were not a Catholic, you would not go to heaven. I could not reconcile this in my mind. All over town, there were places of worship that were not Catholic. Their parishioners seemed to be good, honest people. Why would they not go to heaven? I had friends who were not Catholic and at that age, I thought, well if they are not going to heaven, I do not want to go to heaven! Why are they not good enough? How could I be good enough even being Catholic??! I also was smart enough to know that many many people in the world were not Catholic. What would happen to them all? It made me incredibly sad.

Finally, we were taught that we should go to church every Sunday and fancy attire was required: patten leather shoes, nylons, dresses, etc. First of all, my parents did not take us to church. They had for a period of time, but then stopped. Not to mention, my hand me downs would certainly not be adequate for church.

Suffice it to say that my experiences were negative. That is all I remembered. The day I graduated 8th grade, I felt completely liberated. On to public high school. I left a class size of about 50 students for a building that housed almost 3,000 students. It was my dream come true. I could fade into the background and no one would notice my hand me down clothes, my lunches, no one would know I did not go to church every week.

Freshman year I met Kim in health class. We were friends for some 17 years after that day. To know that I will see her again is comforting. But...it brings me back to the word faith. I have absolutely no physical proof that this will happen. Yet I have no doubt that it will.

I have started looking back on the years since leaving that grade school which was a daily torture routine for me. Going to Mass has only happened on special occasions since I left that school--weddings, baptisms, etc. Rarely would I end up at a typical Sunday service. Strange thing is, every time I would go, I would tear up. I was embarrassed primarily because I did not even understand why I would be emotional about something like this. It has been easier to avoid facing some of these issues, practice my own spirituality in the quiet and safety of my own home.

Up until now, I have used the negative experiences as reasons. Now they are excuses.

I have made the decision that if I have faith in something as monumental as heaven, I would like to learn more about it. That maybe, as an adult, I need to go back and look at religion again to help me understand what **this** existence is. Maybe I will find answers that make sense to me in the Catholic religion. Maybe I will not. And if I do not, I will keep looking for a framework to understand my spirituality and my faith. I now know that being spiritual is not enough for me anymore. I want to know the whys and not only accept that heaven 'is'.

I am not sure this post makes the most sense. It feels rather disjointed. Probably fitting, however, as I feel disjointed. My goal is not to convince anyone of anything. I want to share this journey.

I took what I consider the first step today and went to a local Catholic Church for service. It was comforting. I want to take this one step at a time. One foot in front of the other. I have faith that I will find the answers I am looking for if I am patient.

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