Sunday!

It's Sunday morning! In the past, I "went to church". Church was meant to be a time to learn a lesson from the Bible. Church meant seeing friends and neighbors dressed in their "Sunday Best". Church meant music and prayers. Church was when we reviewed our behavior and promised to "do better" to "do good" for another week.

My "religious" life has included several different denominations: Christian, Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist, plus a year of Catholic school and all the associated events at its associated church across the street. Zen and teachings of the Buddha inspire me, too. CD's of Yoga Chants are often calming. I like watching television church services, too. I'm not Catholic but I do watch Easter and Christmas Vatican celebrations. It's all so amazing to see so many different religions! I even watched a Russian Orthodox program - people stand throughout the entire ceremony.

Way back in the 40's at the beginning of WWII, we lived in a beautiful home on a sloping hill. I remember the sunlight pouring in the windows. I remember wearing long white socks that snapped on with garters and shiny black patent leather shoes. We went to church. When we came back our home was filled the wonderful warm smell of  beef pot roast. I remember lying on the floor and reading the funny paper. And, often the record player was playing big band songs that Mama would whistle to.

*Note: Found this "treasure" at Valley Thrift Shop. Serendipity! It's a square tile "etched" in black.

After "things went South" and a lot of "stuff" happened, we were in a rental two family in east Walnut Hills. That's when I went to Assumption school for the second grade. We attended a  Presbyterian church on Madison Road (now demolished for a condo development with only the steeple part left). Then, with Mama pregnant, we moved "out to the country" to a tenant farm house with the outhouse and a well for water.

Our church was Withamsville Baptist Church. It was primitive with its stove heat and outhouse, too. Lulu Hall played the piano and sang, too. I loved the old hymns and still do. My folks got an old push pedal organ where I played those hymns, too. I sang in the choir for awhile and taught Sunday School. Sometimes we would go to the Wednesday evening services, too. Eventually I was baptized Baptist. The "dunking pool" was at Linwood Baptist Church on Linwood Avenue. That church is still there. (Two doors down I purchased a home as an investment - to rent and eventually sell). I still have some memorabilia from that home - a picture of Christ knocking at a door.

After our Baptist days, Mama and Daddy joined a Presbyterian church. I married Harry H. Garrison at Westwood Methodist Church and then during that marriage attended Walnut Hills Methodist Church where I also taught Sunday School and became Methodist. (I think my church affiliation is still Methodist). After the divorce, I didn't attend church. After remarriage, I didn't attend church either. My spiritual development has become more attached to nature, to creating, to life itself. It evolves with each passing day. It arrives with energy, hope and acceptance.

Maybe it's just being "older" or maybe even being happy with "life as it happens" that puts my church-going days into perspective. I know and I know. I live and I live. And, with this knowing, I understand and accept that "all is well". That's my "church message" for today. Tomorrow a new page will be turned and new lessons will be revealed. In the meantime, it's Sunday everyday!