This Isn't Going To Make Sense...

I've been sitting on this for a while, I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted to say, and I'm still not sure. So I'm just going to type out the thoughts, and hope they make sense.

I've been going to church, as you all know, a lot lately. Ok... a lot for me is every Sunday. Until April of '07 I hadn't set foot in a church, other than Christmas Eve, Easter, or any time when forced by my parental units, for at least two years.... maybe more. In fact, when I darkened the doors of this little dinky church in Frederic I was pissed. I was pissed at God, and I was pissed at Christians. I thought the whole thing was a fricken pain in my butt, and I didn't care to be a part of it.

However, I remembered that some of my best friends, and the best times of my life were centered around the friends I made in youth group, the goofballs that made it through the trenches with me at the Baptist schools, and I wanted that kind of experience for my son. Not the crazy fundamental KJV only, don't date, just court, and never let your hair touch your collar experience, but the friendships on a deeper level experience. And while I was pissed at God, and church, the one thing that remained steadfast was that I knew there was a God, and there was a heaven, and a hell... and I was responsible for getting my child on the path to one or the other. And... I knew that someday no matter how pissed I was, I was going to end up before God and have to account for how I taught my son.

I wanted my boy to be able to make his own decision about church, eventually. Turns out, while the church itself was nice, and the people were sweet, the church... just didn't feel right. It's like that cute pair of shoes that I own. They fit, they're nice, but they kinda pinch... not bad, but just enough to make you uncomfortable.

Then I visited another church, on the suggestion of a friend. Ok... it was a suggestion, but I had thought of it a few times on my own, but kept coming up with excuses not to go. (I hate going places that I've never been, all by myself.) So I went. I visited this place, and I laugh in retrospect because I tore out of there so fast that first day it was crazy. Seriously, I think that I left a trail of fire behind me. Part of it was embarrassment. I cried through pretty much the entire freaking service, and I hate doing that in front of anyone, let alone strangers. So I left. FAST.

But something weird happened. I returned. And kept returning, for what is now 8 full months of Sundays. (Ok, there's a few in there I missed, and it was really hard to get up and return for the first few weeks, but I did) And here's the weirdest thing of all... slowly the tears stopped, (FINE I still cry every once in a while... Mostly when I hear Jay sing lol-- kidding Jay, you sing great--) But these people at this church I'm not sure why, but they really made me feel... accepted.

I expected people to freak because I was a divorced. I mean that is just not... well... Baptisticly (yeah, I made that word up) accepted, right? But they didn't. They didn't freak, and they didn't really care. They just kinda -- ok this is going to sound incredibly wrong-- but they just loved us. They loved me, and the boy, and accepted us, and kinda took us in. I got to know the Pastor and his wife a bit and they're great. They seriously are.

Then I lost my job. And these people kinda stepped in and just let me know things would be ok. They didn't really do anything per say, but I could tell when they asked "How are you" that they meant it. The really meant it. And when they said "If ya need anything" they meant it.

Then came Thanksgiving. They showed up on my porch with groceries. Seriously!!!! I had so many groceries I about died. I was so excited. (I kept my cool of course until they left, but once they left and I called my best friend over we jumped up and down and screamed like crazy people) Here is a group of people who honestly... don't really know me, and yet reached out to help me.

They make me think. They make me think that maybe... no matter what crap I've done in my past, or what life crisis I'm in at the moment, and maybe no matter how much I may or may not have hated God... maybe just maybe He didn't really give up on me. I thought he did. I would of written me off if I were Him. But maybe he hasn't. It's weird how people can make you think these things, but yet somehow isn't that how it's supposed to be? Aren't we supposed to live our lives in a way that makes people think about God, or reflects His love for us? I don't think we need to make sure our hair is cut short, and I don't think we need to only use a KJV, I think as long as we're demonstrating love, Christ love, I think we're going to accomplish just that.

I haven't felt this way about a church in a long time. When I was a kid I loved church. I'm sure my parents will deny this, but I distinctly remember a time when my family did not go to church every Sunday night, and Wednesday night. I distinctly remember hitching a ride to youth group because my parents were staying home. My parents weren't the ones that drug me to youth group when I was in middle school. My parents weren't the ones that forced me to go to church camp. I forced me to. I was the driving force because I loved it. I absolutely loved it. There's a reason that the only class I ever got all A's in was my Bible classes, and that is because I loved it. And then somewhere life took that from me. And I let it go. And this is the first time, in a long time that I feel even remotely what I used to feel.

I go to church now, because I enjoy it. I still have my issues, I still struggle with so much stuff, reconciling what I learned, to what I believe, to what I lived. But maybe that's why all this happened. Maybe the old cliche' things happen for a reason, is true. Maybe all these twist and turns brought me here, to this place to these people, so that I can sit, and learn, and wrestle with stuff.

I am humbled by the kindness that these people have shown me. I am humbled by the love from these virtual strangers, and I am thankful that they were there. Because even though they don't know it, they have somehow managed to pull me back. They pulled me back from the edge of a very steep cliff and a very dark place, and for that I will always be grateful.