Confessions of this Gal's Sinful Heart

I clung to my mother most of my young life and this day was no different. I didn’t want her to leave me and I certainly didn’t want to be there, but my religious education had to begin so she left me in the not-so capable hands of Sister Mary Elizabeth at Our Lady of Angels to begin my weekly CCD classes. Lessons aimed at teaching us about Jesus’ sacrifice and preparing our young hearts and minds to become the brides and grooms of Christ in First Holy Communion. Growing up Catholic I knew who Jesus was. He was the guy hanging from the crucifix on the altar of the church. He was the man I was told that I had killed because of my sins. He was the man I was to fear because if I didn’t believe in Him I would go to Hell. Back then the Catholic Church was different than today. This was the 70’s; nuns were still smacking kid’s knuckles for saying bad words or not memorizing a prayer. A few weeks into my “lessons” a terrible thing happened. A school book from the desk I sat at had gone ...