Coming Clean

The letter-giving didn't happen. There wasn't time. Either I was still catching up on work, or I was having too much fun with my family to bring it up. Before I knew it, I was hugging them goodbye, and then my uncle took them to the airport.

Part of me wonders if I really should give my parents the letter. It's not that I'm afraid of how they'll react. I'm just not sure anymore if making an announcement really matters.

Lunch last Friday went something like this:

Mom: How come you don't go to church anymore?
Me: I have a lot of questions, and I'm not satisfied with the way the churches I've attended are answering them.
Mom: ... But you still have a God?
Me: Yes.
Mom: And you still pray?
Me: Yes.
Mom: Okay. But if you have questions, maybe you should ask Tita Lisa. She's good at those things. You know that she's now handling the religion program for the whole school?

And that was the last we said on my own faith. Maybe she'll ask again, maybe she won't. Maybe my two yeses were enough for her. They were honest, after all.

On Sunday, we went to the Legazpi Village market for breakfast and shopping. Dad had his vegetable noodles, Mom had chorizo paella, Mikko had Russian cabbage rolls, and I had a chicken shawarma. I think Mom had the best time; she found her old schoolmate, artist Sunny Garcia, and then she bought (well, Dad bought) a capiz chandelier, a dress, and some magnets.

We went to church at Union. It was my first time there, and it was really refreshing to hear a witty, coherent sermon that didn't rely on outdated e-mail jokes, corny anecdotes, or fancy PowerPoint graphics to spice things up--it's actually easier for me to pay attention and respect that way. The pastor did say a few things about homosexuality before launching into the meat of his sermon, and that told me that this probably wasn't the church for me, either. But I forgot about my disagreement in order to just enjoy the rare, quiet time with my family. It was simply nice to stand next to my mom singing hymns. It was nice to pass the communion trays from my brother to my parents.

It's these little things that I miss about going to church. But I know you can't go back unless you want the big things, too.

I did say I'd talk about these things on this blog, but I only will when I feel I have to. No more for today. I just want to relish the new memories I made with my family over the weekend, inside church and out. I hope I see them again soon.