parishioner ponderings.

I went to church today.

Around 9:45 this morning, I jumped online to find the website for the Unitarian Universalist Church of Greater Lansing and see what time their service started. 10:15. A slow, hot bath with coffee suddenly sounded appealing. And then I found this. I've seen my share of church bulletins declaring how everyone is welcome and to see something suggesting why I might not like this place was definitely a draw. They are who they are. No Church Beer Club promotion or eyebrow ring-adorned pastor to bring in the masses. Not that I don't like beer or eyebrow rings, because I do. But I've been to churches where they seemed liberal on the outside, pulling you in with their hipster vibe, only to find their theology is conservative and archaic. Which, I feel like I should add, works for some but not for me. This seemed honest. Unapologetic. They don't just accept the gays, they love the gays. In fact, many probably are gay. I threw on some clothes, made a pot of coffee, and ran out the door with my travel mug.

I arrived about 15 minutes late to the sound of laughter as a George Carlin video called Stuff was playing, and found a seat in the back row. A woman walked by wearing a t-shirt that said, "Careful, you might end up in my novel," and smiled.

When the laughing died down, it was time for "Candles of Joy and Sorrow" - a time for parishioners to light a candle for a specific joy or sadness. "We were created for both joy and woe," the woman said. I bet she reads Brene Brown. I watched as participants walked to the front. I tried to figure which emotion each was commemorating and remembered the irony of waiting for divorce papers to be signed as the couple beside us waited for their marriage license.

The message was by a guest speaker and was titled The Free Sign. He began by elaborating a bit on the George Carlin video and went on to talk about our obsession, as Americans, with stuff. I laughed out loud as he talked about a time he and his wife were carrying an old couch out to the road and a woman stopped before they had even reached the curb, leaving her kids as collateral as she ran for a truck.

Anyway, it was all about giving and community. It was good. He talked about quantum physics and how the entire universe is actually a series of probabilities. Cinnamon rolls and poinsettias came to mind. He elaborated, adding that giving changes us, changes the universe. He reinforced all of this with real stories of how lives have been changed when others choose to give. He didn't necessarily deny the existence of something greater, but denied the idea of this grand omnipotent god and focused more on being creators of our own experience. I liked.

I was about to leave when a woman in her fifties put her hand on my shoulder, likely sensing that I was new.

"My name is Kathleen," she said. "I've been attending since May and I really like it here. I'm an atheist, but I wanted something more. I wanted direction. Inspiration. Community."

I swallowed a lump in my throat and told myself the sound of violins in the distance was not real. I have a tendency to get caught up in the emotion of the moment and sign my life on the dotted line - kind of like watching an infomercial for the Omega juicer on QVC and being convinced it is going to change not just my diet, but my whole life. Such revelations are often followed by plans to become an Omega saleswoman and make millions selling Omegas. Balance isn't natural for me. I think I honestly sat there, tearfully contemplating becoming a Unitarian minister as the postlude played, quickly realizing I may very likely lose interest in going altogether and feel dumb when my friends laugh and say, hey, remember that time you were were going to be a clergywoman?

So, I'm not going all gung ho. But, I kind of want to go back.  At the very least, I feel like I have a place I can go when I want to go.

I realize it's common for women who have played a dependent role in relationships to go flying to the other side of the spectrum and be fiercely independent when they become aware of the part they played. And, I probably have. I will probably always be somewhat of a loner, but I am realizing the need for more balance and interdependence.

Perhaps I am making my way there. Since my divorce, I have realized my own power, the process of which has been terrifying yet exhilarating. When you're alone with little to fall back on, you have no other choice but to grow some balls and figure it out. There just isn't another option. And, when you get there, you don't ever want to give anyone power again. Not a man. Not even a god. In the process of becoming independent, you can become a hardass. But, I don't ever want to get too hard. Like Kathleen, I do sometimes want more, whether I ever believe in a higher power again or not. I want to be part of something bigger than myself.

This may very well be another phase. A whim. My Unitarian fad.

Sigh.

Not all who wander are lost...