I was raised Lutheran and every Sunday it was Sunday school at 9:45 and church at 11. Every week like clockwork we would get dressed in our Sunday best, as we say in the south, after a delicious pancake or waffle breakfast and off we would go. Upon arriving mom would proceed to march me to my class where I was enticed by the snacks that were offered and then after it was off to church where I would scamper off to see Miss Hazel and collect my worthers original. My favorite part of church though was communion because mom would always walk with me and as we would kneel together she’d share her bread with me. I hit all the church milestones including my first communion, my first bible, confirmation, my senior sermon, summers at Lutheridge and was very firm in my faith. As we got older mom and dad got more lenient and some Sunday’s were missed but most Sunday’s I still continued to go.
As I got older I began to question my faith and eventually moving to Charlotte left me without a home church. I was introduced to several by friends but none of them seemed to be “my church”. I will admit there were times when I would question how God could exist and how could he let such terrible things happen in the world.
As with anything people move, people passed away and as I got older familiar faces became few and far. When the news of my cancer became public and I was added to the prayer list, I was amazed at the outreach of my home church back in Asheville. People I had never even meet were going up and hugging mom and dad crying with them saying “it’ll be okay”. The cards, well wishes and phone calls were all graciously welcomed and received thus beginning the infamous card table. Easter Sunday has always held a special place in my heart and that was the day I made my grand appearance back at church. Nervous as the first day of school due to not wanting to faint or be nauseous I made my way inside and sat down beside momma. But it was like no time had passed, smiles and waves from families I knew and some I didn’t.
They say God is present always and you just have to be quiet and listen.
Driving home yesterday I pulled off an exit to get gas since I didn’t want to test my luck on empty. So as I am swiping my card I hear “ma’am could you help me?” Turning around I see a gentleman standing behind me and proceeds to ask me for something to eat. I tell him no and explain that I have helped other people this way and was not about to be played for a fool. But the good in me speaks up and I root around and find a dollar and hand it to him. He then starts tells me his life story and how addiction is hard etc to which I say yes it is and harder than what I’m going through as the talk turns to my cancer journey. Next thing I know we are standing in the QT parking lot praying for me. I regret not remembering his name and I will probably never see him again. After he finished and I drove away I started thinking and I gave a little chuckle as if it was God sending me a little reminder he’s still here even if my faith falters a little.
The M word 