Church.

So we've found a church we really like so far, and it feels like a better fit for us than either of the two we attended in Ohio. As a cradle Episcopalian whose spouse drank the Koolaid, choosing a denomination was a no-brainer. A friend from college who is now an Episcopal minister worked at this very place, and recommended it once he heard our criteria (liberal and full of young families).

In the space of the three Sundays we've attended, we've received two e-mails from the rector, a gift bag delivered by a parishioner, a quick visit from another couple to help welcome us, and free tickets to a fund-raising dinner on the river in a couple of weeks.

I'm going to surprise myself here and say that it's been lovely. Everyone we've met has been so genuine and down to earth and friendly that none of this has weirded me out. It helped that when the second, lengthier visit occurred I had showered and picked up the toys, but honestly, I was more in awe of our visitors' willingness to sit down with total strangers than I was surprised by the knock at the door.

I've always had a contentious relationship with church, and with my faith. This may sound surprising, given that most of my life I've attended pretty regularly, but once I decided to break free of my father's obsession with finding a theologically conservative, politically liberal congregation that used only the 1928 version of the Book of Common Prayer and would not admit Auburn fans (this is only slightly exaggerated), I had a sour taste in my mouth for religion for a long, long time. I attended services, but there was nothing deep or spiritual about it. If anything, my faith was a comforting habit and a place to turn in times of anxiety or trouble or, you know, when the food needed blessing.

The other part of this is that I hate that calling myself a Christian means lumping myself into a group of people rife with bigotry, intolerance, hypocrisy, hive mind, and bad hair. So many people think that being a Christian means being a card carrying member of the Moral Majority, belonging to a mega-church, and swaying and wailing and covering cars with magnetic fish and "God Bless the Troops!" ribbons. It's not all like that (and neither are all conservative Christians, just to forestall any angry comments), but I've never had the passion or wherewithal to correct assumptions and defend the rest of us. I've got a quiet kind of faith that voted for Obama, values extensive reading, and prefers jeans and t-shirts to JC Penney's "Better Dress" department.

Unfortunately, I've let my distaste for one version of the public concept of Christianity keep me from exploring a lot about my relationship with God. In fact, I have to get up and eat a piece of chocolate and pace around a little bit just from typing that phrase. Ew. But still, there it is-- I like our new church, and I have a sudden interest learning more about the history of Christianity and exploring how the Bible was put together and...maybe even reading some of it. (More chocolate.) And I've been doing that, starting with attending a Bible Study where we talk about the historical context of what we're reading and consider it intellectually as well as emotionally and spiritually. I kind of can't believe I'm in there every time I sit down (and I've only been three times), but I really like it. I want to keep attending.

It's intriguing, this sudden thawing of the ice around religion in my life. I'm hoping to continue liking this church, and the people, and I'm hoping to hang on to this version of Christianity free of bad associations. Maybe someday I'll be able to tell someone in real life (as opposed to via the Internet, where for some reason it's a lot easier) that I'm praying for them, and not need a stiff drink and a nap just to recover. It's a goal I'm working towards.