Young church

We went to church on Sunday’s and Wednesday’s.  I liked church, but I DID NOT like having to go away from my mom and dad for children’s church or plays. I did not like getting in front of people.  I still remember the families that sat around us. It was a fairly small church at the time and everyone had “unannounced assigned seating”.   Most Sundays, I would waller my dad so much that his shirt looked like it had never seen an iron.  They made HOMEMADE donuts every Sunday. When I was old enough, I would sometimes help in the kitchen.  Mostly to be able to eat the chocolate and strawberry frosting.  My pastor had cancer at one point.  I didn’t understand, but I was sad too.  He went into remission and is still preaching to this day!  A new part of the church was built.   IT WAS HUGE!  I signed my name on the concrete  foundation and on a rock that still sits under the chapel cross today. 

I was a part of youth but I never felt ” a part” of youth.  I went when they had it but just never felt comfortable around them.  I was an outsider due to location of my school verses their school and my own struggles.  My mother sent me to camp a few times.  It wasn’t pleasant.  But I always enjoyed worship.   

Some of my favorite scriptures used to be written on 3×5 cards all through our house.  Mom loved writing notes.  It was probably just so she could use her new stationary (We share a deep obsession with office supplies). 

I still feel bad for how us kids always acted right before and after church. I don’t know what it was but man…….we always got in HUGE trouble by the time we made it back home.  Sorry parents. 

I learned how to talk to God as a child.  What an important detail to learn.