Churched...

Belonging to a church can be…difficult. You aren’t going to like everyone, you aren’t going to like everything. Some weeks, you aren’t really sure why you keep on going.

But then some adult tells you about an interesting conversation they had with your kiddo, or something insightful your child shared in class.

You see adults laughing and supporting each other.

You find your small tribe of people that become like family.

You are in a worship service and something touches just the right spot in your heart that needed healed.

Or someone notices that you are having a hard time, and they let you know they love you.

Sunday before last was not a good day for me.

Caitlin and crew left early that morning.

Thoughts of my brother were overwhelming me.

My heart was achy and tired.

We didn’t go to the service because none of us had commitments during the service and I didn’t think I could hold myself together that long. So I hugged the family good bye around noon, and drove over for the Board meeting, hoping to sneak in without talking to too many people for fear of weeping.

And then I came across my friend, Caren.

She had a quilt in her arms.

A quilt she wanted to give me that I could wrap myself in when the world was feeling cold and harsh.

It was a quilt that she and I had bid against each other for in the last church auction, which was made by the mother of another church friend.

Generation upon generation of love, wrapped in layers and layers of cloth.

“I want you to have this. I know things have been hard.”

And then we wept together as we held the quilt between us.

That’s what keeps me going back to church. People who love each other enough to show up.

Good times, bad times, all times.