I found myself lately thinking a lot about religion. I think that those who believe in God are lucky. Sometimes I just feel it’s like this club, this private club, and I can’t be part of it.
Maybe is just a thing you have to get into as a child. As a child no one forced me into it. Never had sunday school, I hardly knew Jesus story. My grandparents sometimes took my sister and I to the sunday mass. It was so boring. And people whispering things, and it was so cold, even in the middle of the hottest summer.
I think I met God through the “Ten Commandments”, the movie. It is a scary God. The death hand cloud coming to pick the first borns (I am a first born child!), gosh, it was frightening. My Grandfather, my mother’s father, my sweet, gentle Grandfather was a believer (as I mentioned before). He used to tell me that “God is Love”. That sounds cool. But I don’t feel a thing. And the thing with love is that you can actually feel it. Even when you’re just trying to ignore it. You feel it.
So why on earth don’t I have faith?
I really feel jealous of those who feel better when they pray. I feel better when I take a nap. But I can not take a nap at work, however I am pretty sure that believers can pray in front of their computer and not be punished. Naps make me sweet. I always wake up as happy as a baby, when I get to have a nap. And truth is I never saw anyone leaving a church that happy.