God Was in the Library

Did you grow up going to church?

I did - a super chill "explore, ask questions, be curious" and "hey, sing in the kids’ choir" kind of church. Thank goodness for that - 'cause you know what? I DID experience some soul-sinking-into-my-body experiences...

Most of the time, I was sitting alone in the big sanctuary before choir, listening to the echoes of church pews settling when no one was sitting there. I could hear the chirps of the birds outside reverberating off the walls inside - and I realized how "unreal" all of this was - and how it was all ONE thing.

I'd talk to God.

I'd talk to myself too.

I'd tell myself I was going to be okay.

I'd feel witnessed by something so much greater than little ol' me - and I didn't know what else to call it but God in those days.

It wasn't the God that they talked about in Sunday School. The stories there didn't make sense to me, and my attention span would move me right out of that classroom and back into the "all" most of the time.

I sang in the choir - no one knew how terrible things were at home.

I'd step into the church library before choir and read anything I could.

There was a painting of Jesus on the wall in that library - and I'd say hello every time.

I knew him; he knew me.

The whole thing was confusing 'cause I knew what I knew - but a lot of the church stuff was completely not what I was experiencing. I didn't believe in much of it.