I remember who I am

I spent a good part of my life trying to figure out who I was. I tried to fit in for a while. I tried to seek out people whom I looked up to and imitate them. I tried to abandon who I was for fear I was weak. I tried to be who my dad wanted me to be. And I tried not to be like my dad. I tried everything but being myself.

Seven years ago, I came back to the Catholic Church.

I found myself.

I know who I am now.

I’m a little Catholic boy. Though I’m 32 years old now, in the presence of our Lord or praying to our Blessed Mother, I feel like the little boy I once was. The boy who lay in bed alone. Afraid of monsters. Afraid of the devil. My only comfort was my conversations with Jesus and his friends the saints.

I am a father. My life is my children. I cant possibly put into words how important my children are to me. They are quite literally the very reason I still breath.

I am a husband. My wife is my best friend. She has made me a better person than I could ever have become on my own. Even after 11 years, when she is gone, I feel broken again—just like when I was a teenager. I need her. I love her. She makes me who I am.

I am a work in progress.

God gave me the potential to be worthy of being one of His children. But I am far from that ideal. I struggle every day with the same temptations. I make the same mistakes over and over again. But I keep trying.

Every day I wake up and ask Jesus for His help. I ask Him to help me be the person He wants me to be. And every night I have to ask for His forgiveness for falling short.

But at the end of the day. After I’ve asked for forgiveness. I remember one thing. Something important.

I remember who I am.

I am one of God’s children. I am one of Jesus’ friends. I am a member of the Communion of Saints.

I am not alone.

And neither are you.