A Love Letter to My Childhood Church
This letter is filled with the nuance and complexity of life — reminding myself and others that even the deepest trauma in life can still hold a place in your heart.
Dear Childhood Church,
I haven’t been in correspondence with you in a while — since I was 16, actually. Sometimes I miss you. Sometimes I think of you and the moments you taught me some of the most developmental and significant values I hold to. Some of those values like believing in the equality of all people — no matter what skin color you may have. I remember you teaching me that my Black friend in Wednesday night Bible study was no different from me. You were the first one that taught me that sometimes people treated minority groups badly just because they didn’t look or act the same way as me.
You were so kind to me. You were so kind to those who looked different than me. In fact, you were one of the only places I felt fully comfortable with being who I was. You showed me a love that I couldn’t find anywhere else but with my Mom, Dad, and Brother.
That’s probably why you never stopped growing.
You took in people from all walks of life. You gave me friends and family that I spent my young life with — going to cookouts, outings, concerts, dinners, movies, camps, and the list goes on. You taught me that community…
