All Articles
Parenting
I stared at the gym/sanctuary’s baby blue steps leading up to the stage/altar. The walls looked so empty. As I held my hands up, I closed my eyes. My childhood priest singing “Come, receive the light” flashed in my mind. I remembered the smell of incense and candles. Icons of St. Demetrios, the Archangel Gabriel, and the Theotokos (Mother of God) were bright flashes of color, haunting me.
As newlyweds, my husband and I had found a local church, where the pastor who had married us preached. While dating, we had searched and searched for the “right” church for us. We had no luck, until we found this church. We thought we’d found the answer. We were comfortable, but not fulfilled or spiritually challenged.
Then, I started getting these pictures in my mind. Truthfully, I didn’t want to face them. They made things difficult for me. I had left the church, and said I would never go back.
While growing up, I didn’t pay much attention in church. It was something to get over with. It wasn’t fun. In elementary school, I probably asked my Mom, “Is it over yet?!” ten or more times each service. She would respond: “It’s over when the priest feels it should be over.” I thought that was the craziest answer ever. As a teenager, I used every excuse I could to get out of church. It was boring to me and I didn’t see the point.
So, here I was, an adult, worshipping in a protestant church; and the sights and sounds of my Orthodox Christian childhood were haunting me. I guess the images and sensory experiences of the Church had affected me more than I realized. Though my mind often wandered, I still vividly remember losing myself in the Nativity icon at St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Church in Tacoma. I felt holiness surrounding me in ways I still can’t totally explain. Growing up, I was in church, but I was held up by this unearthly sense of sanctity. I felt it, but didn’t understand it.
As a young married woman, I had to admit, I missed it. And I tried to push it out of my mind, but someone must have been praying for me and my family; because, just a few years later, I came back to the church I said I would never come back to.
Now, during Liturgy, I often remember my children asking me, “Is it over yet?” when they were younger. I notice they’ve been asking me that question less and less. I see them singing the songs; and I don’t feel worried about trying to make it fun or interesting for them anymore. With confidence, I know that the full sensory experience, repeating itself every Sunday will come back to them if they ever leave. My prayer is that they never will.
When things are tough, or someone is sick, we pray together as a family at our icon corner. If one of my children has nightmares, we hook up Readings From Under The Grapevine Podcast on my cell phone to ease them into sleep. We celebrate the Saints they were named after on the days they are commemorated. We read Bible stories and have discussions.
The difference is that Church and prayer have changed for me, as well as for my family. They aren’t just for Sundays anymore. It’s an everyday experience…and how can you leave that if it’s a daily part of your life?
