Sunday, March 29, 2015

SOL 29: It's Sunday. How I started Going to Church.


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The Fish Family (my maiden name) isn't fancy, well-groomed, or even really well-behaved.  We are loud, sassy, and you know almost all the time exactly where we stand.  If we are quiet, we aren't just tuned out, there are a million thoughts going through our heads, and we might be waiting for just the right time to share them.  We are fiercely loyal, and will love you until the cows come home--literally.  

Here's what I remember about it:  Lots of Love.  Lots of dinner.  Lots of questions.  I was 7.  
The part I remember the most?  The questions from my mom and dad.

Then it happened.  

We started going to church.  I don't remember much.  It just sort of happened.  

But the early memories include this:

Our Baptism.  It was done as an entire family.  The older I get, the cooler it is to tell that story.  
We sat in front all the time?!?!  Wasn't that for the well-behaved people?

But here's the part that sticks with me, and why I keep going back:

Through that process, there was an overabundance of love that came from our neighbors.  It was our neighbors who loved us so much, Mom and Dad couldn't help but notice that they had Something Different. 

No yelling.  
No pushing. 
No pressure.  
Just Love.

I also remember the questions.  My Mom and Dad both had a ton based on where they had been and where we were headed.  Someone always answered them.  Every single one.

Of course, as I got older I had my own questions.  What about those?  Answered and Encouraged.  (Even in Junior High and High School when I knew "everything.")  But there was no yelling.  No pushing.  No pressure. Just Love.  My Mom, a saint during this time.  While my Dad was driving a semi and gone, she would answer every single question I had.  And I had a ton.  Nothing was off limits.  

So, I'm older now.  Settled In.  (37).  
I'm determined to give my kids the same.  
A chance to be surrounded in Love.  Not pushing, not pressure.  
A chance to ask All The Questions.  Every single one.  Nothing is off limits.  

There have been bumps and bruises along the way.  People have said things to make me bristle.  I don't really fit any kind of traditional gender expectations along the way. (I know that's okay.)  I'm sure I've made others bristle too.  I keep returning because I know that this journey isn't supposed to be all shiny and cheese balls all the time.  But there is Love.  

Joy!
Kendra



4 comments:

  1. As a former church attender, your blog gives me food for thought. I love your final line about how the journey isn't supposed to be all shiny and cheese balls. Thanks for sharing your experience, strength, and hope.

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  2. To have that firm focus of love is what is so important. I wonder sometimes how some families seem to lose it? I enjoyed hearing about your family, Kendra.

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  3. I so enjoy reading your posts! I've tried to go back and see if I missed any, because they are too good to miss!
    Shiny and cheese balls? I've never heard such a phrase, but I love it! There is so much to enjoy about your writing (stlye / voice / structure / amusing anecdotes, to name a few), but what I enjoy most is how welcoming each one is. I feel like there is a spot at your kitchen table for anyone of us who drops by for a visit.
    It fits - this welcoming (albeit sassy) voice you have. I notice when I comment on other blogs, you have already visited, and left your kind words, sewing generous encouragement to so many others, undoubtedly making them feel just as welcome as I do when reading your words. Simply put, you spread joy!

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