When I had a home, church was a part of it.  I was never an every Sunday kind of girl, but church services offered me a solidity, a comfort, a place to go when my heart hurt.  Being Catholic gives you the opportunity to go anywhere and know exactly what to expect.  I like that, no one needs to show you the ropes if you’ve already spent time there.

My mother was pretty ingrained in her faith, as a child, Easter was about Christ.  I could respect that and continued that over to when I had children.  No elaborate Easter baskets at our house, no Easter bunnies, if we were celebrating, we were celebrating Christ’s resurrection.

I used to spend Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday at services.  Typically, I skipped the Saturday vigil, but I made sure my time was put in.  Now with no home, it is so much harder to celebrate.  Now those days are filled with racers and races and Sunday morning I find myself on the edge of nowhere looking at nature.  I’ve had to change my worship habits.

I still believe, I just find myself without a home church.  No drama, no backbiting, no man-made traditions.  Just me and my “family” in a beautiful place enjoying the views that were created before man.  Easter morning was the snow on the LaSalles; a beautiful red rock garden in front of me; weather in the 70’s with no wind; and my grandson excited for another day.  What a great place to worship what God has created.