November 8th, 2009

. . . and Also With You

I miss church.

I know, I know. No one my age goes to church anymore (do they?). But after going to such a wonderful place and belonging to such a welcoming community for seven years or so, it's been hard to let go of it. I miss the feeling that I used to get when I'd arrive for services. I miss the sounds, the hymns, the goosebumps I got. The fantastic (and fantastically sassy) handbell choir. The rousing sermons, the feeling I got when I got to speak in front of the congregation, where I would look upon people my age, people with children, people who were well off, and people who had just wandered in. The many opportunities to get involved (which, admittedly, I didn't take enough advantage of). The list goes on.

Last fall, I thought I'd found a new home. At first, I had a good feeling when I walked in the building . . . I was quick to find a way to get involved. But the luster wore quickly, and after a few months, when I found my mind wandering during the sermons and wondering how quickly I could get out of there, I started searching for somewhere new. I've been to a few different churches since then, and nothing has fit quite right. I understand that church and the idea of a house of worship means a lot of things to a lot of people. To me, it means a place that awes and inspires me; a place that helps me seek up and surrender to something outside of myself. A place where people encourage each other and aren't scary welcoming, but come-as-you-are-at-your-own-pace welcoming. A place where I actually want to be.

The search continues.