Can I Get An Amen!

I can't remember the last time I attended church (I think I went when my daughter was still a baby... she's 2 now). And it's been even longer since I've attended a church I actually liked.

I don't have anything against churches, really. I can understand why people go. If it's for the right reasons, going to church can actually be fun and a place to find camaraderie and community.

I used to beg my mother to let me go to church when I was a kid. Every Sunday morning, almost all our neighbors would go to the church on our street. Tuesday nights were set aside for the 'young people'.

I would get up early Sunday to try and get all my chores done on time. I would carefully select which pretty dress I would wear, dresses rarely worn because they were saved especially for those occasions. We weren't a big church going family so I remember how disappointed I would feel when I couldn't go. I would watch, through the fence, as the other little girls skipped alongside their parents in brightly colored frilly dress, matching shiny patent leather shoes and crisp white tights on their way to church and a good ole' time.

Back in Boston, as a teen, I attended church regularly, by force. It was important to my grandmother and as long as we lived under her roof, we had to abide by her rules. The first church we started attending was all wrong for me. It was a small church in Dorchester, situated on a corner lot. It was too long to begin with... over 5 hours of nonstop preaching. And the people there were a little strange. Women would flail about, speaking in 'tongues'... jumping up and down, throwing themselves on the floor, panties showing, because they had been touched by the holy spirit. Plus every time we turned around, they were collecting money for the construction a newer, bigger church. Collection was collected FIVE times a day. The people were nice, the music was good but I did not feel at home.

My grandmother went in search of a church closer to home and more her style. She came across a small Presbyterian church a few blocks from our house. At first, that church was not my cup of tea either... it smelled like old people and there were no young kids. My sister, brother and myself were the only signs of youth. Most everyone else was on the verge of retirement, heading for the old folks home or slightly tapping on deaths door.

However, we came to love the church, especially when the new minister took over and brought her grand-kids with her. We started a Sunday school, membership grew to include a few more kids and young families and our minister became a part of our family. When I was going through my rebellious stage, she was a shoulder to lean on and gave me a listening ear. She allowed me to express my feelings without shame or fear (or guilt) and she truly helped me find my voice. Especially when I was having trouble in my relationship with God and the bible. She didn't care what we wore to church (although it really irked my grandmother to see me turn up in a pair of jeans and a hat.) Because of my grandmothers iron will and my new found independence, I started attending church less and less. I needed to find myself and I was certain I would not be able to do that in church.

After I became a mother, I felt the need to go back. To search out that community I missed out on on and longed for. I wanted to be able to go somewhere and feel peace and unconditional love. I craved the companionship. But I had outgrown my old church, so I went looking for another.

Living in Dorchester at the time, I was surrounded by many different churches... but the one I settled on was a catholic church not too far from my home. I am not catholic by any means, far from it as a matter of fact. But the church was so 'welcoming' it felt right. I over looked the 'religious' aspect because I had found my new 'home'.

It wasn't long before I became involved in the church's community outreach project. I had made friends and I had found my footing and my voice. I felt I belonged. People knew me, by name. They respected me. They welcomed me. I was one of 'them'.

It's been a long time since I have felt that way at another church.... I have been to the local church here a handful of times.. but I find it difficult to feel at home. First, it's in Spanish. Not a big surprise, as I live in Costa Rica. But it's just such a big church, I feel I don't really belong. My mother in law is very active in the church community and has tried getting me involved, but I need to be around women my own age sometimes.

I have tried finding English speaking churches here (and there are quite a few), but I just don't have the energy, really, to search for that right fit anymore. Besides, I don't feel I need it... it would be nice and I do miss the connections I made when I belonged to a church, but I just don't feel the necessity anymore.

Maybe one day, I will find my way back to church. I think it's nice to go to church on Sundays with your family... something to do together, even just to get out the house. It also fills a void... not a spiritual void or even religious void. It satisfies a craving, I guess, for lack of a better term.


Plus, going to church was something I looked forward to at the end of the week. I anticipated Sunday mornings... and I want that my kids as well. But for now, I am content just being with my family, at home. And as long as they know the gospel and feel the love, I am fine with that. God is everywhere.... and anywhere you decide to worship. Amen!