I struggle with what to write in this space about my faith.
It’s not that I am ashamed of my faith or that it isn’t relevant to my life.
I don’t have it all figured out and I am pretty sure that on this side of eternity, no one will.
It feels awkward and weird to tell you about something I am so sure of when it seems like I have no clue at all. Sometimes there are these thoughts that shoot through my brain telling me that if I had a clue that seat in the pew next to me at church each Sunday morning wouldn’t be empty.
I know that isn’t the case. I know that I can only control what I believe and not my husband. He has to come to God on his own terms and it’s something that can’t be rushed. It doesn’t stop my heart from wondering what it would be like if he and I shared the same views on something so very important.
If The Chicken was comfortable with it we would sit in the front row every week for service; to avoid the uncomfortable stares.
No, they aren’t from the people around me they are from me, staring at these complete families and wondering what it would be like to worship as a family each Sunday morning.
My mind goes through all of these scenarios and then I find someone looking back at me because they have felt my stares and I quickly look away. It has happened all of the years I have gone to church without him.
We are happy, we are truly in love, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. I just wish there wasn’t this vast field in between us on this one issue.
So instead of looking around the sanctuary I close my eyes and lift my hands to the music letting The Spirit envelope me. I focus on the sermon and I keep myself busy writing out notes to go over later.
But every now and again, when I least expect it, my heart cries out and I find myself being caught making someone uncomfortable with my stares.
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