SUNDAY MORNINGS FOR me, back when I was in grade school meant only one thing, church. I was raised Catholic. I was baptized, had my first communion, was confirmed, and attended Catholic school from the seventh grade until my high school graduation. I’ve sat in many a Sunday morning mass, studied in classes called “Bible as Literature” and even attended Catechism Sunday School.
As a child I aspired to be an altar boy then maybe play more of a major role within the church. This was all normal for me. I would pray at night picturing in my head a soft, blue eyed Jesus watching over my dreams and keeping out the nightmares. I felt him protecting me and I knew that one day we would meet in an eternal peaceful paradise. That’s what I believed at the time mostly because it’s what I was raised to
