I am just not a traditional church sorta girl.
Not at all.
Yes, I grew up in a traditional church.
But, as a young child, I knew it didn't feel right. I can't tell you how I knew this. I just knew.
So, I found myself sitting in a VERY traditional church on Easter Sunday.
I felt out of place.
Like a giant, swollen thumb.
Like a booger on the end of your nose.
Like a "toot" in church (my mother would grimace and fuss if I used the OTHER word for toot. She raised me better than that, don't you know?).
So, there I sat, in a creaky, old pew (even the word sounds uncomfortable), and stared up at all the stain glass. I mean, I love stain glass. It is GORGEOUS! But, y'all, my church meets in an old factory. And I love that. I love those old cement floors and the crazy bathrooms and the mason jar pendant lights (so much so that I plan to do that in my kitchen ... one day ... the mason jar pendant lights ... when I get a little extra cash ... or marry Prince Charming ... oh, who am I kidding!? I have a better chance of finding some extra cash).
My church before I moved down here? We met in a big, ole rambling building that they made every effort to NOT make look like a church. There is crazy art all over the place, and chairs rather than pews. They sometimes worship in the round while incense burns, and they have black toilets!! There is a whole back story with the black toilets, but that's a blog post for another time.
Suffice it to say, I am comfortable in my non-traditional worship setting. I feel like I can be myself. Among the stain glass and Easter millinery and robed "important" people, I don't feel authentic.
So, there I am ... in the middle of TRADITIONAL, and my friend texts me an Easter greeting. My response? "I AM IN TRADITIONAL CHURCH HELL."
Okay, admittedly, this might have been a slightly, how shall I put this? Over the top response? Yes. An over the top response.
The next thing I do is text my mother:
"Lord help me, I am in a pew!!"
No melodramatics there, right? And then,
"Thankfully, I decided to wear a dress."
To which my mother replied,
"LOL. You will continue to live. Just take a deep breath!!!"
Doesn't matter how old you get, you're mom will always remind you that you will continue to live. Of course, I, perhaps, melodramatically replied,
"There's stain glass and vestments and stuff!"
Her calm reply?
"Yes, churches still do have those things."
I was not to be deterred.
"An organ! There is an organ!!!!"
I will admit. My mom's next text got me.
"We had a goat in church today. Did you have a goat in church?"
Yeah, so it doesn't matter how old you get, your mom STILL knows how to shut you down when your melodramatics begin to get out of hand.