I have many fond memories of growing up Catholic—May processions, church socials, and cherished gold-edged holy cards.
Unfortunately, there’s one aspect of my Catholic experience that has always been a real drag. Any guesses? It starts with “g” and rhymes with “built.”
You got it.
Guilt and I go way, way back. We’ve had an intimate relationship over the years, one that’s been lengthy, challenging and—ultimately—very…