I didn’t attend church regularly while growing up, although I lived in the “Bible Belt” (and still do). I remember going to churches for weddings, as a guest of my friends on occasion, and with my Meema (my dad’s mother) when I would spend some Saturday nights with her but was never officially a member of any church until I was an adult. It’s not knocking my parents in any way; church was just not something we did.
We were not a family that prayed before bed or said grace before meals. During holidays, other family members would say grace, and I would bow my head and pray along with him or her. I never had any doubts about the existence of God—He was all around me. Signs of His presence showed up often in my life as I dealt with the pain of losing my father at a young age and the deaths of other loved ones, including my grandparents.
During my late teens, one of my favorite phrases was, “I’m currently between religions.” It was usually met with laughter or invites to church groups, but it was true. I wasn’t sure which direction to go.