rosaryFor some, the Holidays are a time to reflect and often times religion can take a new role in a person’s life.  Or not.  Depends on the person. I was raised Catholic, and I remember as a child once Advent hit, I found myself attending church.  Finding God and being a better person would take center stage.  I even gave up my recesses to be holyLooking back it wasn’t just about receiving extra credit, or points for being good, it was about finding God.  And without exercising that muscle, eventually you can lose out on that relationship.


It’s lunchtime

I don’t get excited

I get ready

To feel pride

And young hope.

I genuflect and enter being good

God is good

And I will hear him, find him, even if I have to sacrifice recess.

Because that takes me one step closer to that place everyone seems to be

The priest stands before the meek lunch congregation

And says the sermon like the sky is blue

But I want to hear God

I want him to talk to me

What does it take to find him?

Church, bible reading, my knees on the pew hurt so badly

That it has to bring something


Chewing gum in class

Passing notes

A future of failure awaits those that don’t adhere to demands

“You’ll get extra credit if you attend mass during lunch.”

I don’t need any extra credit

But I went to church.

Being mean to my little sister needs to change

I need something to help my natural inclination to lash out

When she crosses the line that separates

Her side of the room from mine

Rosaries before bed

I look at the drawing that was passed out in religion class

I stayed between the lines

Mary of Guadeloupe looks so peaceful

I’ll find that peace

Keep doing the entire rosary

Those ten hell Mary’s

Not eight.

The priest offers the Eucharist

The body of Christ, Amen

I want to eat a whole stack of it

I wonder if priests do that behind closed holy doors

He takes a minute to reflect

I hear the mesh of boys playing kickball and handball

And can imagine the girls standing in the corner talking

To form stronger cliques

Leaving me estranged

They are weak

Church will give me something

I hope

It has too

The idea of church not making me nice

Never crosses my mind

Six weeks of sacrifice must work

Now I walk into a church

And feel nothing

After all those lunches.


Praying hands image available from Shutterstock.