Going to Church in my Mind

Last night I dreamed I went to church–an all African American church.  I was dressed in a red coat and sat with the choir.  Now, I have been to an African American church, but it is only in Dreamville I would be sitting in the choir.

I don’t physically attend church anymore.  No excuses.  But, I do go to church in my mind as the spirit calls.

This is how it works for me.

I said a prayer of concern for the homeless person sleeping in a downtown doorway.

I prayed to keep a civil tongue and not complain at work this week. (This probably requires some human effort as well)

I expressed appreciation for my wonderful, little house as the sun streamed in the living room and the birds were singing in the courtyard.

I sat still in my car for a few minutes, my heart bursting with joy for the ministries of Sister Odilia and her staff at Blessed Sacrament Academy and Por Vida high school.

I prayed there might be a Por Vida-like school in Austin for my grandson.

This morning, I’m making a pre-emptive prayer for a safe trip to Austin to visit my family.

In my opinion, going to church in your mind is no less church, or mosque, or synagogue, or…  I try to be more thankful than whining. And, I try to live my life like church is right there with me all the time.

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