I love my church. It’s a huge space, yet I’m not contained by four walls. There is no steeple on my church nor stained glass windows. It doesn’t start at any particular time; as a matter of fact, it starts whenever I get there as I am the only member (and sometimes my son joins me). There is no dress code; I’m most often in shorts and always dirty tennis shoes. It is climate controlled in a sense—in the summer it’s hot, in the winter it’s cold and when it’s raining, I get wet. The preacher  speaks softly in my head. The music is usually some modern day Christian group and I can sing as loudly as I want or be content to just listen. Sometimes there is no music at all, only the sounds of the birds singing. The decor is my favorite part of my church—the wild flowers, the butterflies, new spring growth or bright colors of the changing leaves in the fall. Sometimes, depending on the rain, there is a small stream that runs through it. My church is not what most people would call a church, but this is where I feel God’s presence the most. My church is in the woods—in nature—where I feel God all around me.

Growing up, our family attended a traditional Church, as many do.  But as I grew older, it became very clear that I was not the traditional child.  My mother says I have always marched to my own drum.  I will always be thankful that my parents gave me the foundation of the Church and that they exposed me to the teachings of the Bible. I will also always be thankful that they let me discover God in my own way, the way that makes me feel the closest to Him.