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.
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