True Blue Miracle

Bless me Father for I have sinned. It's been several months since my last confession. I did not go to church again today. For the past few months, I've been having a love-hate relationship with my God. I've been neglecting all types of spiritual connection lately because I've been choosing to be selfish a lot. There just too many things going on in my life right now. Sometimes I wonder if I am the person other people think I am. An identity crisis perhaps? Or maybe I'm just taking a lot of things too seriously. Remind me to stop thinking please.

I did try to make it to mass today. Heard the church bells ringing but found it really difficult to get up until the last minute. Since the chapel is just a walk away, I scrambled and gambled that I still can make it with a quick bath and a mad rush. I finished shower, dressing, drying hair in 30 minutes tops. But I didn't go. I reasoned I was late again. Was too shy to go to church because it was 7:30 and mass starts at 7am. I've been coming in late a lot. Sometimes I can't even catch the gospel and I know by heart that mass is not like a movie that you can catch any which part and continue in the next hour. You must be there at the beginning. I can't understand why I didn't. I refuse to understand why. I'm just going through something. I just want to be stubborn ... because I want to be.

I told myself I could still attend mass in the afternoon in another church, but I knew as soon as I said it that it was not going to happen. So all fresh and dressed, I parked my butt in front of the TV and ate breakfast. Mass ended an hour later. And one by one, my family returned from church. First, My sisters. Then my nephew. And then ... my dad. My Dad? MY DAD! All dressed up, so pleased with himself, from CHURCH! MY DAD! Ever since I can remember he has never attended Sunday mass. Not unless he was forced to because there's a KBL occasion - kasal, bunyag, lubong (a wedding, a baptism, a funeral); or his son was getting ordained to priesthood. The guy who never went to confession at all. The guy who never dresses up on a Sunday for service. The guy who would rather till soil and get dirty than listen to a priest. On his own. No force. No invitation. My dad. From church. Go figure.

My sisters and I had our foreheads furrowed. Of course, we didn't get any answer from the Riddler himself. He just shrugged and smiled and went on eating breakfast. Maybe he has made his peace with God. Hmmmmmmm .... In an Ali McBeal-ish sort of way, I suddenly heard this Barry Manilow song in my head. I'm not a fan but there it is: "It's a miracle! A true blue spectacle! A miracle come true!"

Kapish! If my Dad can go to church, why can't I? I am more guilty than ever. But still I didn't go. Might need a true blue spectacle, miracle myself. Give me my penance. It's Holy Week after all. So be it. Amen.