Life Today

It's been a different sort of week. I thought it would be an easy week due to getting Monday off from school. It wasn't. The students seemed off-kilter because of the shortened week. They acted even more hormonal than usual. Not as bad as seventh graders in my opinion. I'll take thirty fifteen-year-old to thirty twelve-year-olds any day. Well, unless we're singing a song or reading a play.

Anyway, on Thursday night Evan and I went to our first "symposium" group. We've been attending St. Mark's Episcopal Church for a few months now and decided to join in on a book study group. We're reading A Generous Orthodoxy. It's very thought-provoking so far. It addresses a lot of disillusionment I've felt with the church, Christians in general, and myself in particular. We're supposed to be in a small group that meets on the night and at the location most convenient to us. We do meet on our correct night, but there are about 20 people in the group.

The majority are women between the ages of 50 and 75. There is a couple in their thirties and a couple in their forties. The couple in their forties lead worship for the Sunday service Evan and I attend. This couple also comes from some Pentacostal background, and they love that I know where they're coming from. A woman in her seventies and a guy in his forties or fifties run the symposium.

I like the way it's run--the openness of discussion, tolerance, etc. Boy are they tolerant. I feel way conservative in this bunch. I think that's good. Evan and I needed something like this. Evan can be philosophical and I can be emotional (not too emotional, I promise). The guy moderator talked to Evan and me after class. He asked us how come we went to church. After all, we are in that 18-30 year-old black hole. We know few people our age at our church. Or many churches for that matter.

How do you answer a question like that? I don't go because I've always gone? Or do I? Maybe I just can't give up hope. That I'll find a place to belong. A place to meet God with broken people like me. I don't know. Maybe I'm afraid to stop. Afraid I'd never go back. It made me think.

And for emotional me...that's a good thing.