I was sitting today in the car, waiting for Mark to finish AWANA, and I was thinking about my life.Sometimes we contemplate on our past events, trying to analyze or understand, why things happened the way they did, and what kind of impact it had on us and our family.
So there I was sitting, looking at the stars, thinking about how fast the time passed by, and my thoughts took me back to my teenage years. I saw myself turning 16 - how "busy" my life seemed to be, how many ambitions I had had, and where my attention was drawn. I could even remember what my main interest was, what was important to me back then, realizing now how foolish I was.
Nevertheless, we all know, being a teenager is the most difficult time in our lives, and there is no surprise, that many mistakes are being made during that period. Sometimes we even wish that period of our life was erased for ever to avoid any embarrassing memories to bother our minds. Yes, that applies to me as well. I used to say, "I wish I could re-start my life at 16 - to make better choices." Would not it be nice to have a restart button for some days, years, times in our lives? Maybe, but then how would we learn? They say we learn from our mistakes, so what kind of people would we be trying to restart our lives whenever we failed.
Unlike many people, I did not try to avoid any bitter memories. Quite contrary, I felt it was necessary to dig those up, and ponder about why I made those choices.
All I really was doing was trying to find out if God was there even when I kept failing. And boy, I was failing! I was the worst teenager ever. Overemotional, a rebel, oversensitive, very independent, ambitious, proud and pigheaded. I have to admit, I was a pain in the neck to many of my family members. Always wating to do what I WANTED to do, and thinking that I can only do the best. I thought that to live means to make lots of money, and to have a good status in society depends on the name brand of your clothes and accessories. I did not differ much from my peers. And again, this seems to be the common trend among teenagers.
I did not listen to my mom. I was too much independent. I always thought I knew the best. I was trying forbidden fruit, and tasting the bitterness of it later, I was searching for fake love, and I was finding disappointment. I tried to fit, yet I was the outsider. I wanted to be free, yet I was a slave in my own harsh decisions, in my own sins. I was losing it. You might want to say I was a horrible person. Maybe I was. I can't tell. I am one of those who would love to have the restart button. But there is one thing, that always sticks out. I kept the faith.
I was being raised a Catholic. Being in a country of NO FREEDOM was somewhat challenging. The communists had everything under control, including your own life. They owned you, your job, your house. You were a robot, programmed to their desire. If the term "Brainwashing" is familiar to you then this is what it was exactly all about.
There were couple of people attempting to change things, but they ended up being in jail or in better case they emigrated and "restarted" their lives some place else. It seems to me, that back in the 80's, you either chose to be an atheist, or you could be the Catholic. Though even this was questionable. My family was holding the opinion, that things do not happen without a reason, and believed there were higher powers, so rather than being an atheists, we were believing in Jesus, all Saints and the Holy Apostolic Church. And honestly, what is better, to be an ignorant and state there was no God, or to be a believer, though Catholic Church was the only option.
I must say, I hated going to church as a kid. The masses were too early in the morning starting at 5:00am. Can you imagine getting up at 4:00 in winter when your thermometer shows -25F, there is 2 feet of snow, you do not have a car and have to walk 3 miles to church? Well, I can, because I did. My mother loved getting up early. I never quite figured out why. She would make me a pouched egg - which I hated, a toast and some ham-which I loved. A cup of hot, white coffee would be on the table, the one and only delight on every Sunday morning. The rush of getting to church on time was sometimes unbearable. Putting on all these clothes, tights, a skirt (since it was disgraceful to wear any kinds of pants for a girl), a couple layers of sweaters, a heavy coat, mittens, a scarf and a hat, then walking in the snow in winter would take all of your energy away in no time. We got to church exhausted. There is no surprise I would be so tired that I could barely listen to the priest. There were mostly old people inside. The younger generation leaned towards the godless world of mighty people. Eventually though, more younger people started coming and once the Communists were gone (1989), the church opened to all generations.
As I said, my early years were really about nothing regarding the church. When I turned 15, a Youth Group opened and I started attending it, hoping to see a boy I was in love with (Tomas) more often. It was fun as well. We used to go on trips, do projects, have fun...I even started singing in the chorus. My opinion about church had changed, and I actually started enjoying going to church. One thing though was still missing in my life. And back then I could not really figure out what it was. It was one of those feelings when you don't know what ingredient is missing in your favorite meal...
