Lately I have been focusing on my woeful relationship with God. It should be better. Thinking about it in the now I have tried to examine my past. Then the thought came to me that when I was in high school before I was molested my relationship with God was constant. I talked with him all the time. I kept a journal that started with, ‘Dear God’, at every entry. I am not saying that in any way I really had a deep understanding of the Catholic faith or a deep understanding of the love of God but there was a longing for God. That went away.

Fast forward to my entering the seminary a second time. Before that happened the longing returned. At that point I did not want to go into the seminary again, I did not want to be a priest. God, he gets the credit or the blame, had other ideas. So I went into the seminary again. This was post-molestation. It was a unmitigated disaster. I asked God why He called me to something that would bring me such pain and would scar me for life. The only thing I can think of is, “The wounded healer.” This is when I had a run in with a molester, who acted predatorily, who was my supervisor one day a week at a high school assignment. It was then that another priest in charge told me to keep my mouth shut in reference to the situation. The priest who was my mentor, (not chosen but thrust upon me), lied to me and about me and also said some very hurtful things to me. The only saving grace was the Spirituality Year that we went on as a class. At that time its greatness was lost on me. The longing for interaction with God rekindled. I let circumstances and evil people quash it once more.

I can’t write anymore. I’ll finish some other time.