Some days I struggle. Honestly, maybe it is most days. Growing up Catholic in an Irish Catholic parish surrounded by nuns, priests and a grandmother who anointed her sore knees with holy water each day, living was easy. Each Sunday morning was spent in mass standing, kneeling and reciting a string of unknown Latin words in chorus. The moves and lyrics a predetermine orchestration of mindless habit at least for some. Often a trio of men in charge of the church, there would be one appointed to stand at the pulpit booming inspiration to sustain the congregation for the entire week. Those who stumbled and failed to live by the standards of the church were absolved of sin through confession with a quick sign of the cross and a string of Hail Marys and Our Fathers. I wonder who I would be without this identity. The innocence of childhood made it easy to exist under these conditions for this is all I knew.
As an adult, I am responsible. Often times, I do not think that I should be. Life can be confusing. Life can be hard. I struggle to be the person I want to be. Each day I wake up, I think it will be different, but it isn’t. This is the day that I make good healthy choices. No junk. Water. Maybe a walk and I will sit quietly. I will pray and meditate. This may sound self-centered and maybe even short-sighted. It is not enough for me to conduct myself in a manner that is considered to be kind and loving toward others. Everything just feels a bit hollow. Do I hang onto the fear of failure and rejection? I need not always be a victim.
As we approach the advent of spring, a symbol of renewal, I pray that I will come to a new place of acceptance and patience for myself and others. I want to let go of this struggle and write a new story filled with hope for myself, my family and all humankind. Somehow I think there is a spiritual solution to all this. I just hope I latch onto something soon and hang on tight.