When I was a few months of age, my parents had me baptized according to their Catholic tradition. As a child we didn’t go to church. When I hit the third grade my mother insisted on having me do my First Communion. In the time it took me to have the classes done on Sunday mornings, I grew to love the atmosphere and the people. God was a distant, impassive entity who presided over me and my actions, keeping an impartial ledger of all my rights and wrongs. It was a heavy burden for an eight-year-old.
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Today’s is a guest post on Renee Ronika Klug’s wonderful compilation of stories from women about women who have overcome.
Thank you so much for reading!