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.