Happy Easter everyone. We just got home from Easter service at our church along with 200 other people in our community. At 3:15 a.m. this morning I was pretty sure attending Easter service wasn’t going to happen. Had one of my 3 alarm headaches and finally at 5:45 a.m., I gave up and got up. I was angry that my head was hurting and I was still so sleepy. I got up, heated up my constant companion “the neck wrap”, put a hot cloth to my face and made a hot cup of coffee. I slid into the recliner, dogs jumped into my lap and well happy Easter to me. A little while later the pain in my head began to subside and Keith gets up and says, “We’re going to church aren’t we?” “Yes.” I replied.

Easter has changed a lot for me over the years. When I was a little girl, Easter meant a new dress, dying Easter eggs, the Easter bunny and hunting for Easter eggs. My grandparents would pick me up and take me to church usually followed by a big family lunch. It wasn’t until many years later that the real reason for Easter landed on my radar screen. As a little girl in southern Oklahoma, my grandparents were really the ones that introduced me to church. They would pick me up on Sunday mornings and I would go with them. Their religious denomination was the only one I ever knew growing up. My best friend Mary was a catholic. I had no idea what that was but I went with her to her church a couple of times as a child and remember dipping my fingers in “holy water” and people would kneel to pray. The priest would say something and then the people around me would respond. Interesting I thought. Nothing like that happened at my church. At my church you went in, sat down and just listened. It was pretty boring to me actually.

I struggled with this particular faith tradition I had grown up in most of my life. It just never felt quite right. I had decided that something must be wrong with me. In fact I struggled so much with it that I just quit going. My spiritual journey became more private and personal. I continued to pray and tried to do all the things I knew would be acceptable in God’s eyes. I had decided that church just wasn’t for me.

On September 11^th when the World Trade Center came down in an act of terrorism, I remember being so scared. How could this have happened? For the first time in my life I did not feel safe in my own country. One of our local churches opened their doors for noon time services for anyone who wanted to come in. This was a different faith tradition than what I had been raised in. I felt myself being drawn in and for the next few months, I attended church there sporadically. Still not feeling quite right, still thinking it must just be me. Within a year or so I had stopped going there too and returned to my private personal journey without a church home.

In the summer of 2004 I met an amazing man that attended a church in my community that I knew nothing about. I knew pretty quickly that I was crazy about this guy and if we were going to actually have a relationship, I might have to step out of my comfort zone and attend church with him. I had driven past this church many times over the years and always wondered what in the world goes on in there. It was a beautiful stone church with red doors. So the day came when Keith asked me if I wanted to go to church with him. There it is was, I knew it was coming. Obviously I’m going to have to do this so I said yes.

Here I am almost eleven years later and I’m proud to say that I found that faith tradition where I belong. There was nothing wrong with me, I just wasn’t where God wanted me to be. And how do I know it’s where God wants me to be? There are times in the middle of singing a hymn that I have to stop because I get choked up and can’t continue until I get a grip. Sometimes, like today, when we recite our baptismal covenant, I get chocked up and have to stop and get a grip. Sometimes a tear will leak from the corner of my eye for no apparent reason while I am sitting there. I feel everything when I’m there. When the cross processes down the aisle and we all bow, it is powerful. When we get on our knees to pray or to confess our sins, it’s powerful. When we are given Holy Communion, it’s powerful. When Beth plays her beautiful music on the big pipe organ, it’s powerful. And on the days when the church is filled with Easter lilies and incense, it is powerful. It may have taken me almost half of my lifetime, but God finally pushed me through the big red doors of the Episcopal Church where he knew I needed to be. I hope you too have a church home that is where you need to be. But it you don’t, remember that God loves you just as you are and where you are. Peace be with you.