I am a Christian. I’ve always been a Christian, from as early as I can remember. As a child, we went to church every Sunday without fail. Usually, it was just my Mom and brother and me. My father seemed to give up on God as his bi-polar disease grew stronger. Later in life, he found his way back to church, but I wouldn’t consider him a Christian. To me, as I explained to my eleven-year-old son, a Christian is someone who does right by people, no matter what the situation. You thank God for the good things, pray for strength in handling the bad things, and do whatever you believe Jesus would want you to do. So many people go to church every Sunday, religiously (pardon the pun), but then are abusive, demeaning or downright rotten the other six days of the week.
Since we moved to New Jersey from Florida, we haven’t been going to church. I read the Bible sporadically and am interested in other religions other than Christianity. We regularly attended church in Florida. It was a good “fit.” My husband knew the priest for a long time, his parents attended the same church, and the congregation was open and friendly. When we tried out a few churches in NJ, we were met with stares and scarcely a nice word. Then I found a church not ten minutes from our house and went to a ham and oyster dinner for take-outs. The people I spoke to were friendly and welcoming. It was a good fit.
But my husband works every third weekend and up until last Spring, he worked dayshift and my Social Anxiety Disorder wouldn’t let me go alone without him. But something has changed within me now. I want to attend church; I want my son to experience religion and what it feels like to belong to a congregation. The church we have chosen has a very active youth group, and choirs for kids and teenagers. My son loves to sing and so do I. It’s something we could do together. I also think my husband was much more upbeat when we regularly attended church. He seems in a funk right now and I’m determined to get him out of it. So next weekend, we’re going to services. This particular church has a service on Saturday night, which is rare for an Episcopal church, and it means my husband could go to mass before going to work on Saturday night if necessary.
We gave my son his first Bible when he was two.
