I grew up in a Unitarian church with my mom, and The Catholic church when visiting my dad. At a Catholic service with my dad I almost gave my step-grandmother a heart attack doing the sign of the cross with the left hand instead of right. I think it is the sign of devil or something, who knew???

Unbeknown to us, at that same church, a wonderful lady, Belle, had been sitting in the church nursery for six months by herself each Sunday. She sat and prayed for a baby to come to the church. Well, she prayed and we arrived. Belle was a little upset with me though because I was quite the neurotic first time mom and wouldn’t leave our baby in the nursery with her… at least for the first couple months.
We later joined that church, (Grace United Methodist Church) in Savannah, GA, and on my 30th birthday I was baptized there, as well as our first child. It was a wonderful start for my little family in understanding the importance of the church and a church family. I also learned that church people are “normal” too. And because I was “officially a Christian”, I wasn’t expected to be perfect, or be just like anyone else. That Faith wasn’t a thing, but a Journey.
I became friends with the pastor, Brother Eric, and his wife, Carol, and we often had refreshing, candid conversations as my year old daughter would take all the books off the shelf in his office, one by one. They forgave me when I made homemade chicken pot pie and Brother Eric had a mild heart attack after he left that evening… I also learned about the painful loss of their young son Jonathon to a brain tumor on May 19th, 1982.
