It is better to be the child of God than a king of the whole world. — St. Aloysius Gonzaga
On June 22, 2013, a member of our family became a new member of our church. My two-month-old niece, Allison Kaydenne, daughter of my one and only sister, was baptized at St. Lorenzo Ruiz Parish Baptistery as a Roman Catholic.
We had her baptized for one purpose – so she would be a child of God.
Of course, with that one purpose alone, we believe my niece would: 1. be cleansed of the Original Sin; 2. receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit; and 3. be instilled of the three virtues of faith, hope and charity.
These were the very reasons my sister and I were baptized in the same way when we were infants, ourselves.
We are a family of Catholics. From our great great great grandparents and I believe down to our great great great grandchildren, the fact that there is one and only one God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit is rooted in our faith.
Growing up a catholic isn’t that much different from a person of any other religion. I woke up each morning with the sunlight on my face as I prayed. I went to a catholic school until high school. I went home at night to dinner served by my grandmother and we sat around it as a family to dine after blessings. I went to church with my family every Sunday to receive Holy Communion. I prayed the Holy Rosary to the Blessed Virgin Mary or said my novena to a saint if I needed intervention. I prayed again before I closed my eyes for my slumber. I grew up with all these practices in my soul, and more.
While many of you might say there was a heck of practices you read differently and that I was lying when I mentioned everything was the same, I still believed there was nothing to compare. After all, I also always believed in my heart that it wasn’t the religion that would save me and my soul when I died. It was my faith. It was my faith that I have a God and that I will be with Him when I returned this life I borrowed.