Every year there are certain things I can expect without failure. For example, on Dec. 4, I undoubtedly anticipate a phone call from my mother. She usually starts the conversation with small chit-chat, but I know she’ll eventually ask me whether I know the day’s significance.

This year I, once again, played along as my mother reveled in telling me it was St. Barbara’s Day, congratulating me and letting me know she’d be lighting a candle for good fortune.

It’s been years since my mother told me I was named after a saint. It was my father’s idea, and I admit I used to think it was interesting to be named after something related to history. But the charm has faded.

And for years I have tried to feign interest and humor my mother when she enthusiastically asks, “Guess what day it is?” She thinks I am just as excited about the date. But in reality, I think the day symbolizes my disenchantment with a concept that died long ago for me.

I truthfully don’t remember when I lost my sense of what religion is. I understand people stop believing all the time. For some, it’s part of growing up and just as easy as distancing oneself from images like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. What’s more, it wasn’t marked by some particularly traumatic event. Religion just up and left me one day, without even saying goodbye.

As the years progress, Dec. 4 affirms not only how unattached I’ve become from the whole ideology of religion, but it makes me wonder if I was ever really a part of it.

I grew up not understanding why religion was considered so important. My religious encounters can be summed up with two instances. One was when I was young and my mother enrolled me in a private religion class. This old lady would come in once a week and go over the Bible’s history in Spanish. At seven, I thought it was fascinating to be part of something I thought was bigger than me.

But when my mom stopped forcing me to go to church, my interest in God faded. It wasn’t until I was in high school that my second instance occurred, and I discovered religion again. I began attending Sunday mass at a local Baptist Church. I came for enlightenment, and I stayed for the people. I remember buying a Bible and becoming completely enthralled in the pastor’s weekly messages. They made want to be a better person.

One day the pastor asked me if I was ready to be saved. I bought into the moment, and holding my pastor’s hand, was asked if I was ready to be more committed to God. I said yes. I lied. But I was angry, because I wanted to be saved. I just couldn’t believe. I was baptized shortly after, and I didn’t tell my family. When my mother picked me up from church that day and asked me why my hair was wet, I lied.

I eventually walked away from the local Baptist church. Somewhere between graduating high school and traveling thousands of miles from home, I lost the support I once felt from my congregation. The concept of trying to commit to God became void, and I stopped caring about what God’s plan was for me.

I don’t want to think I’ve become jaded, but since entering college, I’ve learned more about the history of organized religion – particularly man’s dominant role in its creation. It has kept me from what I initially wanted to feel from God; that everything is going to be okay if I just keep positive.

Looking back at the two times I tried to embrace organized religion, I was more interested in the feeling of acceptance than anything else. I felt comfort in being a part of something bigger than myself.

When I hear someone say, stay positive and believe in God, I can’t help but feel instantly apprehensive. In a way, I’m jealous that some people have such a blind, zealous faith in God. But I’m disillusioned with accepting that there might be something real in traditions like attending church and praising saints on their birthdays. I can never reach that level of belief.

Each year, my mother calls to wish me a happy St. Barbara’s Day, and these are the thoughts that run through my head as I’m holding the phone.

As trite as my mother’s reminders can get, they, nonetheless, make me stop to think about how religion used to fit into my life and where my faith went.

Barbara Rodriguez, a junior in the College of Communication, is also the assistant news editor for The Daily Free Press