Today we learn that it's the weaving of our life with God's that brings the sacred presence to our lives, and we are encouraged to find (over the next 2 days) some way to share that sacred story with our group on Sunday morning.
I think I found my way in this blog, and in some of my other writings. As I look back through this blog and my journal, I realize again that my faith story is one of peaks and valleys. Yes, it's a sort of slow growth from where I began to where I am today, but one with lots of twists and turns along my pilgrimage pathway.
One religious experience that I lack, and one that permeates the Christian experience is a specific moment of "conversion" - a time when I can point to the beginning of my experience with God in my life. I'm sure it happened... I'm just certain that for me it happened at my baptism roughly 45 years ago (well, 45 years ago next month). You see, I'm not a Christian pilgrim today because of any huge experience from my past. I'm a Christian today because long ago my mother decided I would be one.
I remember her saying that she was slightly disappointed that I was born on a Friday, because back then mothers spent 5 days in the hospital after giving birth, and that meant I wouldn't get to church on the first Sunday I was alive. (Evidently, I had perfect attendance every Sunday while I was a fetus growing inside her.) One big religious event in my childhood was that our family moved from 7th Street Lutheran Church (which had changed it's name to Messiah and moved to a growing part of town) to Holy Trinity Lutheran just after my 2nd grade year. This was because our family only had one car, and with dad's crazy work schedule, I had missed 10 Sunday's that year when I was only sick on two of them.
In fact, from the time I can remember until I went to college, going to church on a Sunday morning just wasn't something that was ever discussed... we just did it. That "habit of worship" early childhood formation was a huge part of who I am today. Even when I went to college and started "experimenting" with not attending church (I have done this several times during the peaks and valleys of my pilgrimage), my life during these times seemed to lack something. I miss not connecting with God regularly.
I guess Mom's training took hold...
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