Touched

I stopped praying in college. A series of events lead me to that point. Growing up, religion was a big part of my life. For five years (3rd-8th grade), I attended Catholic school. Initially, I was enrolled in the public school system but my parents didn't like that I was fighting every other day. Instead of curbing my diet of professional wrestling (WWF and NWA), they figured the good ole nuns and priests would straighten me out.

Other than wearing a uniform, I didn't have to adjust at all to being in a Catholic school. Jesus Christ and his twelve disciples weren't a new concept to me because I grew up going to mass regularly. Additionally, as a toddler, my Grandma wouldn't let me go to sleep without praying. She made me believe that terrible things would eventually happen if I didn't speak to God prior to sleeping. Looking back, I don't remember a night where my Grandma went to bed without putting in at least an hour of prayer with her rosary beads. When I got older, it through me for a loop when I discovered that she believed in Voodoo.

I have fond memories about my Catholic School years because of the friends I made, but it would be a stretch to say that I got a great education during those five years. When I transitioned to a public school for high school, it was weird to participate in group discussions. The nuns didn't engage students in exchanges, nor did the students debate each other. Everything was fed to us. There was no encouragement to ever question anything--not even the fact that our Pastor was usually drunk at mass...

I was asleep one evening when my mother's frantic call to wake up startled me. She told me to hurry out of bed. I ran into the living room where she was watching tv. There, on the screen, was my former Pastor--the man who administered my First Communion. He was being charged with several counts of child molestation. My Priest fondled little boys, and a couple of them happened to be my schoolmates.