Our Sunday morning was a busy one. With winter having the chance to show up as early as Halloween, us upstate New Yorkers have to pack up the yard as soon as it gets close to 35 degrees at night. We never know when old man winter will stop by.
While my loving boyfriend started outside with mowing the lawn, and packing up the patio furniture I stayed inside and made breakfast for us. Eggs, bacon, and toast for the guy who got up early to get stuff done.
I made a little extra to justify feeding it to Letty Marie. oops. Bad DogMom moment.
After we got done eating our breakfast, J’s dad came down to help with some of the patio furniture. (Those glass tables are insanely heavy) I went and picked up all my garden stuff. (I LOVE MY PLANTS) J’s dad noticed part of our roof falling off. So, to add to J’s to do and accomplished list he hopped right up there and got to work. (I don’t know what I did to deserve him either!)
We broke the umbrella, on the plus side I get new patio stuff next year then! Whoop!
After our eventful morning, my favorite part about Sunday came around. Church. Me and religion have a weird and touchy relationship. I find myself to be a woman of science, but I cannot help but feeling that there is a higher power, and that’s where my faith comes in. I can’t explain how I feel other than there is something there, but I don’t know what.
I spent most of my Sundays as a child behind the pew’s, spending Sunday mornings with my mom as the Sunday school leader, singing, rejoicing, and learning god’s word. As I got older, I learned to play piano and began teaching within our Sunday school group. My friend was also a co-teacher with me, making Sundays that much more enjoyable. Me and Kay, began heading to the nursery during the sermons to watch over the little ones who just couldn’t sit still much longer.
I had a love/hate relationship with church on Sundays as I got older. I hated waking up early. I hated that I felt “forced” to go. However, I loved the activities and people that I shared my Sunday’s with. At 15/16 there is a lot going on in a girls world. My mom let me make the ultimate decision… I stopped going to church. I had other things that I wanted to focus on and do. The only time I ever stepped back into the church was for Senior Sunday. (Mostly to make my mother happy.)
A few months ago, July 2017, I was so lost. I was confused. I felt alone, and I didn’t what else to do or where to go. I decided that I wanted to try to find that happy-feel-good feeling and for some reason I felt the need and WANT to go to church again. So I dressed myself up, got in the car, and drove to church where I found myself to keep driving right past to the cemetery.
I needed someone to go with me on this spiritual journey. I needed a church friend. My grandma passed away when I was 5. Everyone in my family says I’m a lot like her. She was my genuine true best friend, and probably the only reason my mother didn’t harm me as a child. (I AM TOTALLY JOKING, MY MOM IS A GREAT MOM, I was just a needy child.) I went to her grave and prayed. I prayed that she go with me and help me find my way to spiritual ease. I prayed that life start to look a little more up and I prayed that I get through this with my pride and ego still intact.
I went to church. I prayed, I sang, I hugged, I teared up and finally, I felt at ease. I learned to leave my baggage at the door. I learned to listen to the messages and to let life go and to just let it all happen.
I made it two weeks in a row, and then life happened. Between interviews, applications, weddings, work, etc. I forgot to start making time for myself. A blogger that I follow and was actually the inspiration for me to start this blog, posted a photo of her young girls at the church I go to. My heart sank and was happy all in the same breath. I had forgotten to take care of me. I forgot to put me first, even for only an hour a week. I saw the girls faces in the photo, calm, at peace, happy, knowing that no matter what they are loved, not only by their parents, but by the congregation as well.
The following week I went back. This time with the attitude that I was going to stick to it. luckily I had a new friend who wanted to attend with me. J’s sister Hallie*. Hallie’s* friend Calista* was over and her sisters were the young girls in the photo mentioned earlier. All three of us went to church. We sang, we prayed, and we left it all at the door.
After church, me and Hallie* sitting on the front steps. Love my Sunday’s with her.
After this post I plan to continue writing about my church experiences. At my age, with where the world is now, religion is dying… I’m not trying to save the world, but if I can let even one more person know that they aren’t alone looking for their path or their faith, maybe, just maybe, I can make the slightest bit of difference and we can walk this crazy journey together.
*Names have been changed to protect peoples privacy.