God forgive me…

I wanted to go to a Penance Celebration this Christmas. Last year, being busy with so many things, I didn’t get a chance to. Tonight my mom asked me to go with her. Even though I was rushing around trying to wrap presents and complete other Christmas tasks, I decided to go with her.

So much of the real reason for the season is forgotten.

I know that part of the reason my mom wanted me to go was because my sister and brother wouldn’t, but also because she wants to make sure that I still have my faith.

Over the past few months, I’ve fallen away from being a practicing Catholic. I haven’t attended mass regularly (partly due to living in a rural community and only having one option for a church). I also have been living with my bf, which is not a good thing to do as a Catholic.

I’ve struggled with what my faith means to me. Growing up, I was taught not to question. You just accept and continue going to church. That’s all that mattered. Because of that, I never really adopted my faith fully into my heart. I knew what I was supposed to believe, and I believed it, but because it was a “duty.” Not because I truly wanted to believe.

It seems that more I get away from being a practicing Catholic, the more religious I become. It sounds weird and I know others will disagree. I can’t help but analyze when mass is going on. Why should a priest have to stumble over words written by other people proclaiming faith? Why shouldn’t he be able to pour forth from his own heart his faith for his people?

I told the father my sins. He was kind and told me something that I’ve known for awhile. “The faith is in you. Whether you attend church on a daily basis, whether you sin or not, you have a faith in you that is strong. That’s what brought you here tonight. Hold onto that and nothing else will matter. Not attending mass. Not living with a boyfriend. Not any other thing. You have that and that’s enough.”

My mom I know wanted me to go to confession partly because I’ve been living with R. It was difficult at first for her to accept it, but she has and she really does like him. She was brought up believing that you can’t live with someone until you are married to him.

Marriage.

That’s another subject. When I wrote in my diary that I was moving in with R., I received a comment such as “why don’t you just marry him.” That’s the view my mother used to have too. It’s the view of my grandfather and grandmother.

When I moved in with him, I gave him my heart completely. Isn’t that a form of marriage? I see that as more special than a ring on my finger and a few whispered words before a statue of God. I pledged myself to him. And that should be enough. But all too often it isn’t. And I know that until I have a ring on my finger and a paper signed stating that I am married, the relationship won’t be accepted by some people. But still in my heart I know the truth.

When my mother asked me how the priest responded to me, I know that’s what she wanted to know. What did he say about living together before marriage? The answer was simple.

“He told me to hold onto my inner faith and I would be okay. That nothing else mattered.”

And this Christmas, I’m learning that nothing else does.