Confessions-A reflection on church at christmas

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A few years ago I started growing a fascination with church doors; just the doors, not the interior. Everywhere I go and see a church door I want to get a picture of it, especially the period ones. What I didn’t realize until recently, is that I blamed the black church and some of its teachings for the longest time, for marrying me off on what seemed like my first date. It ruined my life (as it ended soon thereafter in divorce), or so I thought, but in retrospect it taught me self reliance, independence and most importantly it gave me three beautiful children. Church also kept me out of trouble. As a young person, it taught me good old fashion values, consequently I was spared the wild partying lifestyle and all that it entails, I had no idea what the inside of a courthouse looked like until my divorce, and after I started working there a few years back. My Friday nights were youth night, Saturday was prayer meeting, Wednesday was bible study and Sunday, both morning and night was service. Contrary to what I have come to know about churches other than all black, is that parties are a thing, smoking is a thing, dating is a thing, it’s a cultural thing, or so I’ve realized. There are some churches you dare not enter as a woman wearing pants, short skirts, or with your hair uncovered. I used to visit with some frequency, a Presbyterian 99% all white church a few years back, I quite enjoyed it and made some amazing friends. I am still making peace with the black church, resultantly my frequency in a week as a teen is comparable to a year as an adult. I have communions with God on the regular about this and we’re working it out. Nuff love, NAW

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