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I was born Catholic and my family went to church each Sunday and all holidays. My extended family lived in northern New York. That was the best time for church. It was such a loving and comforting place to fall. The excitement of seeing family and friends I rarely spent time with back home in Central New York was the best part. Sitting in that pew, listening to the priest from my childhood was so overwhelmingly touching, I would oftentimes find myself tearing up as a sat, surrounded by the love of family and friends.

When my grandparents took my brother and I on a backwoods hotdog roast, we would stare out the window and pray to see a deer. In disappointment, I would turn to Gramma and say," I guess God didn't want us to see a deer today", and in an instant one or two would cross the road in front of us. Today, I still tear up when I see the gorgeous creature crossing the road or grazing in a nearby field, a sign from God.

After church, we would all go to the diner for pancakes and real maple syrup and crisp bacon. Back home, church for the children came with religious Education classes held during mass. Afterward, the children met up with their parents in the rectory for that same, comforting pancake feast. Wonderful memories that now must fill the void. I stopped going to church.

Confession is the best gift God could have given us. It frees our soul and allows us to move on without any guilt. Before my daughter's First Communion Ceremony, I decided to participate in the act of confession, neglected years before. As I sat face to face with the unfamiliar priest, I began to weep for forgiveness. I explained to this priest I'd never set eyes on before that day, how I reeked with guilt for leaving and divorcing my husband four years earlier. I asked him for forgiveness and penance, which until that moment would have consisted of a series of prayers. I wouldn't get off so easy as an adult. He explained that in the eyes of the church, if I had not received an annulment from the Catholic church, I was considered to be sinning and would not, until absolved, be able to participate in the mass as a whole, including the receiving of Holy Communion. And until I obtained an annulment, I would be living in sin. I was shocked. I felt alone and betrayed by God. How could he not forgive me? I stopped going to church.

I called the Catholic Diocese and explained the situation. I was told that each priest has a different set of rules for absolving and things may have been different if I had talked with a different priest. "Are you kidding", I screamed. Where are all these strict rules? Don't' priests all follow the same rules? I stopped going to church.

I miss it. I miss the overwhelming wash of emotion while sitting in that pew. I miss the sense of belonging, acceptance, forgiveness and love. Today, when I see a priest, I no longer see with a child's eye. The Catholic religion has now been tainted with abusive members. There is little respect left to give. Whenever I attend a mass for a funeral or a wedding, I still weep in that pew. But now the weeping is sadness. The empty feeling from loss. The loss of a childhood love. I want it back. I want those who took it from me to be punished by God. I want God to understand why I don't come visit him anymore. I still love him.

Learn more about this author, Cathy Hatch.
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