Lost Faith...

I come from a rather large catholic family with parents who had a strong faith and belief in God. They weren't the type to hit you over the head with bible or condemn you to hell for every little thing done wrong. They lived their faith by everyday words and actions. They made sure all us kids were surrounded by that belief and faith sending all 9 of us through 12 years of catholic school even though it was a financial hardship to scrape up the money to ensure we were a part of that experience. They made sure all of us made it to church every sunday and taught that God must be a part of every aspect of our lives, saying grace before every meal and prayers before going to sleep at night and a prayer of thanks in the morning before starting our day.

I guess the hardest thing for me was not really that I had questions and doubts about God, but it was these questions and doubts that went against everything in which my parents lived and worked to instill in me. But even with all the love, grace and examples....my questions, my doubts remained. As I was preparing to go out into the world for the first time my Mom said this to me...

" If you should lose everything in this world, make sure you hold onto your faith"

....and it is in this that I have failed her.

Even after leaving home and out on my own I continued to go to church every sunday , observed the holy days and prayed the way in which I was always taught to do but lingering doubts never strayed far. There, sitting in church on sunday wanting so much to believe but knowing I was nothing more than a hypocrite sitting there. I tried to just push all of it to the back of my mind telling myself I was just weak and needed to try harder, be stronger. It was at this point I decided to get more involved with the church, throwing myself into more activities, even going to mass during the week for some of the evening gatherings, trying my best to answer "the call". The only problem with that was there was no call to answer as I found myself still feeling separated and merely going through the motions.

Then one sunday as I was preparing for the usual morning services, sitting on the edge of the bed putting my shoes on, all the doubt and questions came rushing back to forge their way ahead, no longer to be hidden in the recesses of my mind. It was as if I was paralyzed, no place to run....no place to hide.

As I sat there with all these thoughts in my mind, looking back to everything my parents had spent their lives teaching me to embrace, trying so desperately to hold onto those beliefs even knowing that was not what was in my heart. As one minute turned to two, and minutes into hours....

I reached out to you, but my hand grew tired as I slowly lowered it to my side...

I cried out to to you, only to hear the echo of my voice return...

I looked up to you, only to be blinded by that which was not there...

I walked the road to find you, but the road had no end...

I looked in the mirror to see you, only to see a reflection of a man...

.....it was in this moment that the final struggle was over and the battle field of my mind was littered with that which was left behind and the haze that had lingered for so long began to lift. There were no victories to be celebrated that day, just an overwhelming sense of calm, for it was only now I could pickup and move on. I've never spoke with anyone about that day or the final outcome for there are those who would say..... a soul was lost that day. Perhaps they are right, for this I do not know, for there is only one thing that I can be sure of and it is this.....for the first time in a long time I got a glimpse of myself and I was ok with what I saw.Even now as I look back on that day I am left to wonder..........should one morning come, when sitting on the edge of the bed to put my shoes on I will get up, head out the door to search that road once more?