
I have always believed in Jesus. As a child, he looked like the picture with a flock of sheep holding a wee lamb on his shoulders. He had long brown hair, a gentle face and was lean and strong in appearance. He was far away from me as he lived in heaven. My parents provided good lessons and I learned well knowing he was my savior; however, did I know what that meant? Probably not, as I thought it depended on me to be “good” if I was to make it into heaven. I honestly didn’t give him much thought as a child.
By the time I was a young adult, I knew right from wrong and strived on my own to do right. Despite my good intentions I did much wrong harming others in my life’s journey, never intentionally you must understand, but due to selfish ambitions, jealousies and wrong judgments. Over time, I developed the malady of the known world order, guilt and condemnation. It settled on me as a pall of low self-esteem and all that entails basically depression. I wasn’t much fun as you can well imagine and I had to pretend to be cheerful and happy. I accepted my situation as my unfortunate lot in life hoping against hope when in church every Sunday that I would make it into Purgatory should I die.