I sat lifelessly still on the bold red pew, as if in one movement my head will be shot off. I sat in that dense, thick air. Air filled with nostalgia; air filled with remembrance. I sat there, scanning the room for familiar faces-that of which was every face. It felt like home, but at the same time, foreign. I felt like a naive fool walking into an emotional trap. A time warp, spinning me around. My eyes maneuvered their way around the constant variation of receding hair lines, focusing on the one white-haired man in the front. I saw new-timers and old timers; a clash of the generations-my thoughts later justifying that as a good T.V. show title. Dead ahead was the monumental stained-glass window. It was like meeting eyes with the past. This place made me feel like something- I wish i knew what that something was.
I had mixed perceptions. The eyes of a young woman fighting for the place of a young girls'. There was something sacred about this church. Maybe it was the accepting looks I received, or maybe it was the memories it brought back of a man I long wished was still around.
I couldn't tell you what the message was, but it gave me a taste of my childhood. And maybe that taste of satisfactory was what I genuinely needed this Sunday.
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