People complain. Theyre complaining all the time about everything. As a child, I was innocent enough to believe what people were saying. I really thought there were plenty of valid reasons to complain: the weather (most often), lack of money (runner-up), the neighbors, husband or wife, the children (me, in this case), civilization (or the lack of it), bad health, etc. I assumed the world just turned out to be like this and there was nothing much we could do. It was called fate or something.
The thing to do was to pray. Not to ask for a better life. No! I learned to pray to ask God to forgive me for my sins. I was a nice little girl, doing very well at school, polite with the neighbors, helpful at home, so it was rather difficult to keep finding sins for our weekly confession. But because human beings are profoundly sinful by birth, they told me, I had to go confess anyway. The nuns at school came up with a solution to help us out: they prepared our sins for us. Every Wednesday, on confession day, they gave us a pink paper with our confessions of the day. I remember feeling sorry for the poor priest, hidden in his little black cabin, spending the entire day listening to...
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