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By Testimony,
At my words: “the last time I was at confession was four years ago” the Franciscan priest asked with all sympathy what my name was, and then asked what had happened, and why I hadn’t been to confession for so long. Hearing the love in his voice, I burst into tears…
I was the second child born into a family established by a young couple. My mother came from a good Catholic family with many children, whereas my father came from a family where the head of the household was an alcoholic. Dad was a very bad-tempered person, so all three of us (I have a sister and a brother), along with my mother, were afraid of him. I don’t remember any positive feelings in regard to my father; I felt only fear towards him. Dad never paid any attention to us as children. He would beat me or my sister over unwashed dishes, or for any other reason, always thought up on the spur of the moment. We all knew that we were simply problems for him. Even as a small child I felt like I was completely useless. I had a feeling that I was the result of an accident. I didn’t believe in God, since it’s hard to believe when you have a father who screams curses on Sunday morning, frequently hits you, and creates hell in the house and then goes to church to be seen by neighbors. If that was what a Catholic was supposed to be, I didn’t want any part of it. When I was 17 I met my first boyfriend. My heart, which had been so pure and innocent up to that time, fell in love at first sight. However, because of my moral principles (I didn’t want to give him “proof of my love”), he left me. I was heartbroken. At that point something burst inside me. I promised myself that I would never again suffer or cry because of a man. I became a hardened, independent woman with no feelings. I started having affairs with men whom I hardly knew. These affairs were usually brief, and were always driven by sex, which meant nothing to me. When a man would behave other than according to my thinking, and I thought he was falling in love with me, I found pleasure in leaving him. I loved to watch how men cried. The worst time in my life was the third year of high school. My mother, whom I loved very much, had an undiagnosed tumor in her breast. Dad didn’t want to give her 100 PLN for a quick biopsy, so the diagnosis waited a long time. At that same time, we also learned that my father was being unfaithful to my mother. My approaching graduation exam was adding insult to injury. At that time I became involved with a boy who, similar to myself, had been severely injured in his home. After a time I decided to withdraw from this relationship and this was when he started to change from being a caring man into a person who disregarded me, harassed me on the phone, and threatened to kill me. I was completely exhausted. I was 19 years old and wanted to die. The only thing preventing me from committing suicide was the fear that perhaps hell really did exist somewhere out there after all, and that I would certainly end up there. I was also depressed. I started college, which required me to take out a student loan to support myself. Even though I lived in the family home, I had to pay for my own food and transportation. When Dad was in a bad mood, he’d always start an argument. He would call us parasites and deadbeats. During one of these arguments, my brother and I decided that we would move out. Our older sister had already left the house. She had married when she was 18 just to escape from Dad’s tyranny. My mother had left to go work in Germany at this time, in order to help her children out financially. I thought that my pain would end once I no longer had to see Dad. But these kinds of wounds don’t heal just because you change your address. I thoroughly hated my own father, and that hatred was killing me from within. For the next three years I lived with great pain and the awareness of rejection by my father. These were not good times. I got involved with another guy whom I hardly liked, since I didn’t believe in love. After a year, we were engaged. Then, after two years of living a very sinful life, I tried to go to confession. But as soon as I said: “the last time I made my confession was two years ago” the priest reacted with a scream that I would go to hell. I burst into tears, and without continuing the confession, I left the confessional. Once again, a man was judging me. I determined never to return to the subject of the Church and God. I was studying at the Catholic University of Lublin. Because it was a Catholic school, I had to take classes in the Bible. I was very surprised the way people brought Bibles to that class. At the time I thought: “Who ever reads the Bible any more?” I concluded that everyone has a right to his own peculiarities. I remember, however, that the story of David and Bathsheba spoke unusually powerfully to me. I recognized many similarities between myself and David. One day when I was returning home, I noticed people going to church. I followed them. I was such a sinful person that I felt like the only place I was entitled to was a pew in the narthex. Everyone in the church was praying the rosary. I felt like staying through one decade. But I felt so good and as serene as a child, that I stayed through the entire rosary, and the mass that followed. If it had been possible, I would have spent the whole night. From that time, I began going to church for mass three times a week. I started to think about going to confession. Every night I cried and asked God to give me a good confessor. I prayed to Mary for her support. God began to open my eyes, and blessed me with many graces. I could feel His presence. Every verse from the Bible taught me something. On the last day of the Christmas retreat I went to confession. At my words: “the last time I was at confession was four years ago” the Franciscan priest asked with all sympathy what my name was, and then asked what had happened and why I hadn’t been to confession for so long. Hearing the love in his voice, I burst into tears. I mentioned all my most serious sins: sexual impurity, hatred, use of abortifacient pills… The priest told me that he was glad that I was there. How could that be? I didn’t even deserve to walk into the church. I knew that from that time I wanted to be a different person. I didn’t want to hate any more; I didn’t want any more pre-marital sex; I wanted to be somebody who from that time on would try not to sin, since He ran out to meet me, a sinner, like the father of the prodigal son, to put sandals on my feet and give a feast. I told my fiancé about my decision to live in purity. As one might imagine, his reaction was very critical. It became obvious that we were completely unsuited to each other I chose God, since only He knows the whole truth about me, and loves me anyway. It was He who began to change not only my life, but also those of my loved ones. Along with the rest of my family, we determined to pray for Dad’s conversion. And do you know what? After 30 years of marriage, my mother has a caring husband! A husband who is faithful to her, and is no longer a tyrant in the house. We have a wonderful, warm home I’m happy to visit. Conversion was tied to forgiving Dad for every injury that he had inflicted. When I prayed the prayer of forgiveness, it unleashed such a struggle within me that I went into a fever from the effort. This was a difficult time, during which the entire family prayed rosary after rosary resolutely. We held on to God earnestly, whether it was a good day or not. God prepared an exceptional surprise for me. When I was at church, I noticed a particular boy whom I had known from childhood. He was three years younger than I was, so we hadn’t previously had much contact with each other. Even though he knew everything I had been through, he never reminded me about anything from my past. What was most important for him was what was here and now. We were able to pray together, and discuss God and praise Him. Thanks to God’s grace and our membership in the Movement of Pure Hearts, we maintained our premarital purity. Today I am free from hatred, I have a loving family, and a wonderful husband. I am also expecting our first child. God worked many miracles in my life. If someone is looking for the recipe for a happy life, believe me, you will only find it in God! If a person offers their life to Jesus, their whole life with all its sins and weaknesses, He will take over everything and change everything in us. Our repentance is up to us. Praise Jesus Who gave His life for us! A reader Source: https://loamagazine.org/archive/2017/2017-39/without-forgiveness-there-is-no-healing The above article was published with permission from Miłujcie się! in April 2021. Read more Christian articles (English)
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