Tomorrow is Sunday again. Again I’m reminded that worry runs in my family and my father is….well he’s the father of worries. I can almost hear him yell in danger, “We’re going to be late again!” We have never actually walked in late for 2 years now. Service starts at 9 am and it takes less than 15 minutes to arrive. The unnecessary yelling starts at 8:30 morning, sharp every Sunday. We take off by 8:35, and he drives as if he believes our car has wings of a jet plane. Man! God loves us. We have never gotten a speeding ticket since living in Nevada. 2 years ago, this was the same man that would rush to church, find a seat, and fall asleep. Now, he has a highlighter in hand and ready to read along the scriptures the pastor points out. Every now and then I rest my head on the side of his shoulder and I know without a doubt he feels my sense of pride in him. This same man who pilots our car like a king who owns the streets, has the softest, most tender meat stuffed inside of him. This soft interior is protected by such a tough skin that he could fool anyone into intimidation. But he knows it doesn’t work on any one person for too long. I believe this keeps him from pursuing deeper relationships with people. It’s been a couple weeks now that fellowship has convicted him. It’s a very small crack on the door, “Small enough to slip a sheet of paper”, my mom says.
It’s been 5 years my parents have called this congregation their church, but 5 years too they could have been members. I on the other hand was attending a different church, where most people are not shy to put their hands in the air and just make a fool of themselves. I felt my place was here. Every Sunday morning, worship was like a concert. The music always got me in the mood for praising. It’s been however, quite a few months now that I’ve stopped coming to this church because it was a longer drive. They expanded and moved closer to the heart of Vegas. Just this year, I’ve become more consistent attending my parents’ church on Sundays. I realized it’s not about what church can do for me. It’s about what I can do for His Kingdom/His people. I am ashamed to say I also am not a member of their church, but fellowship has been heavy on my heart as well.
Years ago, I dreamed of something better. Something big to change my family. But I doubted it so much too. Still I persevered. And now here, I am sharing my purest joy to say that God’s plans are at work. They always have been. It’s a small opening my dad has allowed, but I can almost see him with his head bowed, praying in a circle of believers like himself. And he’ll feel safe to let a few more in. I can see my mom mingling with other moms. Many times I’ve felt as if my heart had feet of its own, wanting to get out of my body and just walk down the aisle, straight to the pastor to tell him I want to be a member. God knows my heart and what it desires, but He says “Just keep praying and one day you’ll walk down hand in hand with both parents. That will be the right time.”
By His Grace, Sheela