a REALLY friendly church.

so tonight my friend Howie invited me to come to church with her . . .  I used to go to her old church with her sometimes on Thursdays, and she said that she wanted me to try this one out.

I should have caught on when I asked as we were walking in, “Are they going to make me stand up since it’s my first time?” and she replied, “Maybe . . . oh wait, no, I don’t think they do that on Wednesday nights . . . ” I should have remembered that HOWIE LIES.

It was a really friendly church, and I felt very welcomed there. A few minor disagreements with their theology, but that didn’t really get in the way tonight at all. Anyway, after the message, they took an offering and said something about “we will welcome any first-time guests” . . . so I’m thinking, “okay, they’ll have me stand up and say hello, I can manage that . . . ”

oh, no.

We get to the “Are there any first-time visitors?” and I am trying not to raise my hand, but Howie is pointing at me and so there’s no way around it. Little did I know that, in addition to welcoming me, giving me a first-time visitor’s packet, and the like, they had something else in store for me. I should have known I was in bad shape when the woman at the pulpit said, “We have a little tradition here . . . ”

and well they did. They sang me a song. SANG ME A SONG! and not only sang it, but all came over towards me and took turns shaking my hand, with a few hugs thrown in for good measure . . .

I felt bad because I was cracking up the whole time, but in reality, it was really sweet and I was only laughing so hard because I was embarrassed. It was really, really sweet, though . . . and in between shaking hands, and saying, “Thank you. God bless YOU.” over and over and over again, I just kept whispering, “I’m going to kill you” to my friend . . .

 I wish I could remember the words, though. It started with, “we don’t care where you go to church, if you’re a Christian, you are our sister in the Lord”–something along those lines. again, really, really sweet.

I’ll go back sometime, if only because I’ve gotten past the worst part and can’t be a “first-time visitor” anymore . . .

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