I was allowed top go to all manner of churces with all manner of friends and family when I was a child to see what I wanted to do. My parents were (Dad) raised Roman Catholic and (Mom) Methodist. When they were engaged, they did the same thing and ended up becoming Episcopalian. After "trying" Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, Roman Catholic, and several others, I too chose Episcopalian. Then, I met my future husband, who was basically non-religious, much to his mothers' dismay, although he was baptized Lutheran. We married in the same church my parents did, but really never attended any church except for weddings and funerals for most of our married life (just over 27 years when he died in April 2000). I went on Christmas and several Sundays a year with my parents, but have not been a regular for years.

After Tim was diagnosed with cancer, he began to search for a reason and for a cure. Many years (almost 3)after the initial acknowledgement of the disease, after they had exhausted all the things that were supposedly going to help him, they reaffirmed what they had told me in the beginning....5 years tops and that it would kill him--no cure, just buying some time. His reaction was instant and severe depression and denial. I told him to just focus on getting better and being cured and let me handle all the rest.

Our neighbor was attending Bethany Lutheran in Violetville at the time and had just gotten a new minister. Dave had been trying to save Tim for the entire time that he had been ill and I had just asked a mutual friend to request Dave to just back off. I was happy with my faith (although I didn't really attend church, I still pray and believe, but I had a really bad experience when I was a teen with an Episcopalian minister and decided then and there that I didn't need an intermediary to talk to my God)and was really tired of being "recruited" every time I walked out the door for anything. So, withing a day, Tim had come to grips with his issues and asked to see Dave. Dave immediately brought Paul (his minister) over and they formed a bond and a friendship in those last few months of Tim's existence here in this life that was awesone to see. In a few months, Tim had gone from not believing at all to making prayer a nightly ritual. We would lie in bed, holding hands and say the Lord's Prayer and the 23rd Psalm. It brought him peace. Then Paul would come three or four times a week and they would talk about God and the church and other issues, and leave tapes of his sermons for Tim to listen to and they would discuss them the next visit. The choir even learned "On Eagle's Wings" and came to the house and sang it for him. Tim looked forward to Paul's visits more than anyone else's until his death, at 51. I am forever grateful to Paul and his congregation for taking us under their wings for those times. I know Tim is in Heaven and has no more questions about his faith, or that there IS inded life after death in this existance. I talk to him and to Him all the time, and I know they are both around me.

Anyway, I have no regrets. I have been through the "church is everything (as a teen I was there EVERY day--choir, Youth groups, sitting for the Sunday services in the kindergarten, Sunday school (attended AND taught), Altar Guild, whatever)" and the "don't need to go there all the time" phases, and now I am somewhere in between. My father goes every Sunday and volunteers for St. Christopher's also. I go occasionally with him, but am a daily believer. So be it!