This past Wednesday was Ash Wednesday. And being the good Catholic girl that I am, I went to receive the ashes for lent. I contemplated not going, but this extreme guilt came over me. Ok, so I'm not really a good Catholic, I don't go to church, I don't pray on a regular basis, but I am a good girl, so I figure that's gotta count for something!
But growing up my family did go to church every Sunday. When I was about 6 or 7, my mom used to work on the weekends so every Sunday at noon, I went to Spanish mass with my grandma and tia. To this day, I cannot follow along a mass in English, it has to be in Spanish so I can remember all of the proper responses.
I remember sitting in the pew, wearing a pretty dress and following along with all the sitting and standing. My favorite part was when we got to shake hands with the people around us. Oh, and then there was the pan dulce afterwards. At about 1pm, everyone would congregate outside of the church or downstairs, where they had coffee and bread.
Now, I hardly ever go to church. I am still a believer, just not a do-er. And then there's the guilt. Oh, does it ever go away?!?
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