It’s always nights like this when I think most about my past. My dad was an elder in the Seventh-Day Adventist Church when I was growing up. My memories of my childhood are pretty sparse, but the ones I remember mostly involve growing up in the church. It served as a second home in a way. During my parents divorce I was raised partly by my pastor and his wife at the time. With that being said, I spent a lot of time at the church. I remember bits a pieces of me playing in the pastors office, racing my best friend to see who could crawl under the pews fastest, vacation bible school, sabbath school classes, Pathfinders, and baptismal classes. My dad was so proud the day I was baptized. It’s tradition at our church to write a letter to those on the day of their baptism and after rereading over my dad’s letter to me, I couldn’t help but tear up. My sabbath school teachers set my spiritual foundation and also served as babysitters for me from time to time. They watched me grow up and to be honest, they were like grandparents to me. I miss them all dearly. I wish I could sit with all of them in the old way and talk. I can still see them and hear their voices so vividly in my mind. I miss my dad terribly. I wish I could talk to him about life and the wedding. I have so many cherished memories with my dad, but I think my favorite memories of him would be when he used to read to me at night. My favorite stories were the ones he told about growing up on the farm in Texas and of course my fairy tale books. I loved being able to fall asleep dreaming about the adventures told in the story.
I’m afraid that one day I might forget those things. I can never forget because, in a way, it feels like they’ll be forgotten too. I can’t have that. My memories mean too much to me. I never want to forget the memories of the people I loved most. There are brief moments when I miss the community I had in the SDA church. I miss it because it was comfortable there. I was raised to observe the strict moral lifestyle and I was used too it. The past two years have been amazing faith wise. I have never grown or hungered for more in my faith before.
If you’re wondering how this small town SDA girl ended up in the Catholic Church, my Dad always told me to “go wherever the Holy Spirit tells you to go” and well, that’s a start of an entirely different story. 😉