I went to church today. Not that is too hard to believe, I was raised Catholic and I’ve always enjoyed church. Yeah, I fought my parents growing up, but once I got older.
Then I understood the pageantry that went into it. The discipline, the coordination, the ritual. All made it comfortable, recognizable… Made it home.
Especially during the years where drugs & alcohol were a big part of my life I always had church. Especially when communion came around, that was my favorite part.
At that moment God told me that all my sins were forgiven. That everything I did that week was erased and I could start again. Sounds wrong, I know.
The tears would start flowing, not just small cry, large tears and snot and all. That was the part that made feel like God was really listening to me, regardless.
So today when I was in church and communion started, yep, I started crying. My friend thought I was really feeling the Spirit. I guess I was, but not for the reason he thought.
I was home.