I grew up in a Baptist family, a traditional, go to church every Wednesday and Sunday, three times on Sunday actually, kind of family.
My grandmother and grandfather were the driving force behind my church going ways. You see, my mom was a divorced, mother of three small girls, trying to work her way through the corporate world. This left my grandparents to raise us most of the time.
So we had Awana (kids bible study group) on Wednesdays, that soon grew into youth group (middle school and high school bible study) While we were busy learning bible verses my grandmother would be in the weekly prayer meeting. Then Sundays consisted of Sunday School @9:00am.... Church @ 10:30a.m. (don't really remember how the two were different actually) and then we would come back for night church @ 6:00ish. This basically just left enough time in my Sunday for lunch, homework, and then dinner.
As I grew older and eventually moved out to my own place I was on Church overload. I had gone to a private Christian school where I had bible class every day. I saw many people, good Christian people, living very hypocritical lives. I went on to pursue 3 semesters at very traditional Christian Universities. Where I again, saw two kinds of Christians. The rigid, I love Jesus, I want to be a missionary, pastors wife, and live the rest of my days "serving the Lord".... or the "I'm here because I have to be" ..... So once I was out on my own.... I vowed now that I was Ms. Independant that I would only go to church when I really wanted to go. Of course I didn't want to go. I wanted to go out late Saturday night with my friends and have fun, I wanted to sleep in late on Sunday mornings and then the day laying on the beach, curled up on the couch, or any other way I found to waste an entire day of my life. The guilt that overwelmed my soul those first few Sundays was incredible. But eventually I didn't even notice. Instead of Sunday being church day, it became, stay up late, sleep in late and do whatever the heck I felt like doing.
It has continued to be that way for the better part of 6 years. Wow, 8 years actually. And once I got married I swore that the hubs and I would get it together. Be one of those cute church couples that ran a home bible study group and served with the youth.... but no, we have chosen the exact same ways as before.
Now that I have a son, I am starting to worry. The only thing that kept me "safe" through many of my rebellious years wast the fear of God. Literally, all those years spent at church, in Christian School, taught me right and wrong, it gave me a strong conscious and while most kids were out drinking, doing drugs, and getting busy with boys, I was too afraid. Sure I had a "moment" of about a year where I finally did live a little. But it was nothing looking back that about a thousand other kids weren't doing.
Last night I finally broke down. I suddenly felt this heavy burden beating down on my chest like an elephant. My first thought "great I'm having a heart attack" .... but as I quickly ran through my limited medical knowledge I realized it was a full blown panic attack.
I was the one who was solely responsible for my son. It was me that had to teach him every element of right and wrong, good and bad. It was me that had to help him learn what was in the black, gray, and white areas of life. What did I base all of my "big decisions" on.... well the bible of course. Where did I learn all of that .... ummm church ... hello.....
So...... yes, I'm heading to church this weekend. And no, it's not to start early on Little man... he is only 9 months old you know. But it is to restore the faith that I once held very dear. To get back in touch with a God that I have seemed to lost along the way. No I know that he didn't go anywhere, it was me, but now I see that maybe my grandmom was on to something after all.
Adios Mis Amigos,