My aunt died last night.
At times like this, I feel a stronger need to believe.
It's always been a conflicting subject for me.
The image of God in my schoolyears was of an avenging one.
If I didn't go to Mass on sundays I'd go to hell.
Babies who were not baptised went to purgatory, becaused apparently they carried sins from birth.
And it was shocking for me when I was told only "us", catholics, would go to heaven. If you happened to be born in India or Turkey, well... bad luck. That didn't sit well with me. I told my teacher once that she and I didn't share the same god. I didn't mean to be rude, I was just being honest, but I was punished anyway. None of what they told me fit with my idea of a compassionate god. And the idea that they managed to convey about heaven was that of an exclussive club.
Oddly enought, I pray at night. I need to believe someone rather than just me is protecting everything I love. Are we just star dust? Is there a logical reason to believe there is a creator?
Happiness can be so fragile.
I need to believe my aunt is in heaven. She was a good woman.
1 comment:
I know. I find it hard to believe that he would condemn them.
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