Personal Narrative: Our Lady Of Mount Carme El Catholic Church

As I walk through the doors hundreds of memories flood into my mind as the smell of yesterday’s incense hits my nose. In a way I grew up here from baptism, first communion, to confirmation. Various friends and family scattered in the pews nodding to you as you enter the church since in a small town everyone knows everyone. The church is large and ornate for where it is placed; a little town of roughly 200 people. The inside is magnificent with intricately carved wooden pillars and elaborate paintings of Bible stories on the dome ceiling. The altar looks like something that came from Rome with its large life sized statues of Mary, Jesus, and angels surrounding it. Its peaceful, quiet, and a good place to reflect on the blessings you have received. The earliest memory I have at Our Lady of Mount

It 's just me and my Father this Sunday as we drive the ten miles into town with me pouting in the back seat. I was always a stubborn child who fought going to church because I found myself being bored and antsy for that hour and a half. I remember my father looking over to me, patient as ever and explaining as best as you can to a child why attending church was so important. He said, we have a lot of things to be grateful to God for like how we have food to eat, a house to live in, and a family that we love. I sat and thought about that all through church and was in awe of my father’s love for God. A love that parents have passed onto their children for generations in my family. Throughout the years growing up since that day I went to various youth groups, masses, and retreats but it wasn’t until my church sent me on a mission trip that I really understood what the love of God was. It was the Summer of my Freshman year in highschool and I was all packed and ready to make the long drive to