I haven’t been attending church lately. For no particular reason, I just became busy with other things, running errands, catching up with laundry. I wish I had a “good” or exciting reason for my absences but…no. And for every Sunday that you don’t go it gets easier and easier to not go the next Sunday. That’s the merry go round I was on. So today I impulsively went to church. And I am glad I went. It was like coming home.
I’ve been attending my church about 13 years or so. I can’t remember exactly the year we began going. Samantha was young enough to be in their nursery, I’d say she was around 2. Whoever was in charge of the nursery put a sticker with a number on the child’s shirt and the parent had the matching sticker. They used to light up the number over one of the exits if they needed you to come for your child during the service. One Sunday I was watching this number flash off and on and thought, “hmm that’s interesting…”. I had no idea Samantha was being a holy terror downstairs in the nursery that day. It was my number that was flashing! Needless to say the workers weren’t very happy with me when I picked her up.
After everyone got older, especially Samantha, they all attended Kids Church. It was nice, the members even incorporated Thomas into the kids church so I could attend the service.
These days when I do attend I’m either by myself or maybe with Samantha. And it’s ok. I don’t mind going alone. You don’t need an entourage to worship. The music is nice, but I really enjoy hearing the message. Today our Pastor talked about what it means to be a disciple. That we are as much of a disciple as the 12 men Jesus hand picked. Pastor John also spoke of the recent passing of his dad. I had tears in my eyes listening to him talk. I immediately thought of my own father’s passing and the next thing you know you’re trying not to cry because you totally know where he’s coming from.
I would like to get back into my previous habit of attending church rather than stick with my new habit of not attending.