Remembering God

When I was a kid, we went to Church every Sunday. No matter what, we were not allowed to miss Mass. We went together as a family. If there were other activities, which was rare, they waited until after Mass. We also ate lunch of supper together, whichever time was more conducive to a gathering. Sometimes, people came and went throughout the day. The cousins played together. We, sometimes, fought with each other, but we had better have a good reason for that. We’d run to the park and swing untili we heard the food bells ringing away. We’d wash our hands and find a spot at the dinner table where we’d make the sign of the cross, say grace, then, even though we were STARVED, we would finally eat.

As we grew older, we were, much to our dismay, welcomed into the kitchen to do dishes with our elders. The boys were as much welcomed as the girls. It was simply part of the responsibility we incurred as we got older. When the dishes were cleaned and put away, we gathered in the living room for the family Rosary. If someone had a date waiting for them, they either joined us in prayer or they waited outside. The uncles made sure of that. This was our prayer time. God came first, no matter what.

When it was time to go home, we’d walk the short distances away or drive in an old, beat up car. We’d get ready for bed, knowing that school or work was tomorrow, or in the glorious days of summer and no school, we’d be up and running. Then it was time for our evening prayers. We’d whisper them, maybe have time for some writing in the hidden diaries with the locks on them, then, looking out the window, see the stars in the heavens, and we knew that these stars were there because God created them and that He loved us.

We’d drift off to sleep knowing that we were safe in the arms of our Blessed Mother and Jesus.

The next morning we said our prayers before breakfast. Then it was off to work for the adults, school for the kids, or, in the glorious summer time, off to play to visit the library, to grandma’s house for the day while our mothers went to work. The cycle was there, each event preceded by prayer, or, each event was ended by prayers of Thanksgiving.

I remember God. He was there, always, for us. My grandparents made time for Him and taught us to make time for Him. He was always with us, and even when bad things happened, we knew He was there, loving us, consoling us, guiding us.

I miss those God filled days. I’ve drifted off from the days when God was first and we were last. Activivites explode in the small pockets of time we have. Computers in our pockets. Mass attendance declining so Mass times are cut. People who are spiritual but not religious. The influence of evil in what used to be a simple world, at least, my world was much more simple back then.

Oh, I know God is still with us. He doesn’t change, nor will He ever change. He is Love. He is Peace. He is Truth. Truth cannot be changed. Even when legislation attempts to change truth, it cannot change that which is real, that which is true. Truth is imprinted on our hearts. We know what is truth even if we wish to deny what is real, what is truth.

God forgive us for filling our days and nights with things and empty promises. Many souls are being lost because they deny the truth or refuse to recognize that which is true. Pray. Our World Needs prayer. Seek comfort in the Rosary and win souls for God.

“Oh, my Jesus, for give us our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are in most need of Thy Mercy.”