La Fe

I want to return to those times. When I believed. When I knew, without a doubt, that God existed. When praying to Him and la Virgen was a part of my morning and evening ritual "Padre nuestro que estas en el cielo..." I remember being four, sweet and innocent, and asking Baby Jesus to take me up to Heaven during the night, so I could sleep on a big, fluffy cloud but he had to bring me back in time for school. I truly did believe in the Holy Family; I believed in Their power; in Their ability to make miracles.

My request for a cloud persisted, I knew in my naive little heart, that if I asked enough times, He would listen and answer my prayer. In His own way, maybe He did. One night I went to bed, like always, asking for my fluffy cloud. I fell asleep and I felt a presence with me on my bed. I couldn't turn, it felt as another body was lying there next to me. I frantically patted my bed and it was empty, the only body on it was me. But I still couldn't move and I still felt the presence. So, I did what any normal child would do - I freaked the hell out! Maybe that night, He came to keep me company since my being alive and all might cause confusion in the astral plane. I now think it's a funny story, but I wish I still had that determination, that faith that didn't waver, that persisted, that knew that They were there, listening, loving us, guiding us.

I don't know when exactly it was that I lost my faith. I know I still have some of it, I can feel it inside of me. But it's deeply hidden. It's obstructed by fear and disappointment, always disappointment. When one loses faith in those one loves, faith fades. For me it was my dad. He's been the greatest disappointment in my life. I now pity him -- I pity his weakness, his pathetic-ness, his fear. I feel ashamed to come from him. I feel torn about it. He's my dad. I shouldn't be ashamed of him. I should love him. I should respect him. But I can't. I don't even know if I want to. His selfishness robbed us of so much and his actions continue to haunt me. The memories of words said, of things done are embedded in me. It's hard to let go. It's hard to forgive. I felt God cheated my mom, sisters and me for putting us through that. Maybe it was fate, inevitable. I am who I am today because of it. But sometimes, I wonder if that's a good thing.

I faced disappointment again. I felt guilty. I've been punishing myself for letting it happen. I've been feeling shame for putting my guard down, for trying to open up to him. Like my dad, he also is tormented by inner demons. Like my dad, he's selfish. But something in him awakened something in me. He made me feel alive in a way I had never felt before. I don't understand why or how, because he never did anything or said anything. It was just something about his presence, something that I saw and felt in him that both mesmerized and terrified me. Something he doesn't see in himself.

I thought that perhaps God had put him in my path and that I would find happiness with him. But he's damaged. I don't know how long he's been that way; I don't know if he can change. I would have done anything to heal him, to help him find himself, but his stoic nature pushed me away, his indifference broke my heart, tore it to pieces. Again, my faded faith started to fade even more. Another disappointment. Another scar. Another lost dream.

Mi mama dice que la fe es ciega. Yo peleo con ella, le digo que como puede creer sin prueba, como es capaz de poner todo en algo de lo cual no ha visto. Pero ella me dice que nosotros somos prueba, que nosotros somos la creación de El. Somos hijas de un Rey. Ella cree y no deja de creer. Hay veces su fe me da lastima, que siempre sigue sin dudar aunque su vida nunca ha sido un cuento de adas. Pero mas que todo la admiro. Miro todo lo que ha vivido. Todo lo que ha sacrificado. Todo lo que ha echo. En esos momentos se que lo a logrado por su fe; en su corazón nunca esta sola. Eso me avergüenza. No de ella, pero de mi misma. Yo quisiera tener fe como ella. Quisiera ser constante en mi vista acerca de la religion. Miro como ella no deja de luchar, y la manera en la que siempre nos da fuerza, amor, y alivio y me rompe el corazón de no ser mas como ella. Ella es feliz y sabe su valor; ella sabe quien es. Sabe que es hija de Rey y por eso no deja de luchar y de darse su lugar, siempre encontrando fuerza en Dios y la Virgen.

Lately though, in trying to find my happiness again, I've realized I can't blame God. Or free will. Or try to convince myself that ignorance is bliss. Ignorance is ignorance. Ignorance is despicable. Happiness comes from within, from loving and accepting oneself. You can't measure your worth by others' standards. As much as it hurts, every wound, every disappointment is a lesson learned. I now know that I do possess the ability to love, fearlessly and genuinely. Maybe la Virgen is still watching out for me, silently guiding me, leading me to finding, accepting and loving me. Maybe there is still hope for me, maybe my faith can be restored. Maybe all I need to do is to open my heart, let my guard down, and surrender to the beliefs I was raised on. "Santa Maria, madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros los pecadores ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte..."