One of my favorite and very early posts–slightly updated.
Last night I dreamed I went to church–an all African American church. I was dressed in a red coat and sang with the choir. Now, I have been to a church with a predominantly African American congregation, but it is only in Dreamville that I would be singing in the choir.
I don’t physically attend church anymore. No excuses. But, I do go to church in my mind as the spirit calls.
This is how it works for me.
I said a prayer of concern for the homeless person sleeping in a downtown doorway.
I prayed to keep a civil tongue and not complain at work this week. (This probably requires some human effort as well)
I expressed appreciation for my wonderful, little house as the sun streamed in the living room and the birds were singing in the courtyard.
I sat still in my car for a few minutes, my heart bursting with joy for the ministries of Sister Odilia and her staff at Blessed Sacrament Academy and Por Vida high school.
This week, I’m making preemptive prayers for a safe trip to Minnesota to visit our daughter and her family–which includes two precious grandsons.
In my opinion, going to church in your mind is no less church, or mosque, or synagogue, or… I try to be more thankful than whining. And, I try to live my life like church is right there with me all the time.