Sunday Mornings...

It is a sunny, beautiful day, and here I am, sitting in my room again, writing.  Sunday mornings I wake up, shower and dress and think about what church I might like to attend, and then usually wind up either going for a walk or writing here in my blog, working on some poetry, my forgiveness ritual, or music.

Once upon a time, church was the focal point of my life, a place that was welcoming and when I attended, which was usually several times a week, I would experience something of God there.  My emotions were all wrapped up in those experiences.  Scripture held many messages that felt relevant and important to my life.

What has happened?  Church has become a place that feels dangerous and even cruel, where Jesus' message is twisted and manipulated in order to fit peoples' agendas; in order to say, this one belongs, and this one doesn't.  And as I look back on my own history, those things were true about me when I was part of it.

Over the years I became more and more of an outcast as I tried to be true to who I am.  And even though every decision has been made with integrity, compassion and kindness toward myself and others, as well as dignity, not every decision has lined up with what the "good Christian folk" believe is right and true.

But what does one do with the gift of music?   And how does one regain a sense of safety?

Another lonely Sunday.