<p>It is for Eugene Lang. They asked me to go out of my comfort zone and to experience something that I seldom do. Thank you!</p>
<pre><code>I am not, by any standard, a church-going girl. Practicing daily religion has never been part of my life. I haven't focused on Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism or any other “ism” that I can imagine and I have never relied on a higher power or deity for answers to the big questions of my life. I even stopped honestly believing in Santa at eight years old when I noticed that my mom's wild handwriting was strikingly similar to my favorite fat character. To kidnap myself from my own reality and hopefully learn about what my father was raised to believe and what my mother still shuns from her thoughts, I attended Saint Michael's Church in my hometown on a random and warm Sunday.
While I walked up my empty Main Street, pushing my legs through the still-humid September air, I started to mull over my expectations. Will people try to convert me? Am I going to walk out of this place praising lord and thinking the power of Christ compels me?
As I neared the church, I took in my surroundings. I was captivated by the sense of grandeur, entranced by the clearly old and beloved building. The bright structure was made more reflective by the beating sun and candles. I assumed that I would be seeing people in their “Sunday Best”, their clothes polished and pressed to a godly perfection. Worst of all, I expected that it would be obvious that everyone practiced their religion except me.
Dark wooden benches, gilded crosses, religious statues and beautiful maroon drapes added to the impressive room. I made my way to the pews, sat and tried my best to fit in. It was something that I hoped, after three years of high school, I could accomplish. I said “Amen” and “Praised by Jesus” in chorus, although not without some internal questioning.
I realized that for all the mystery surrounding church, things were admittedly familiar. Soon after my realization, the preaching began. The Father talked about how the determination of one individual to be kind can change a community and how Jesus can help. I appreciated the communal feeling, knowing everyone around me was believing in one thing. I understood why people enjoy the comfort of religion and called on it in times of need.
Then, my first time in church was done. Following my experience, with the heat now at my back, I started to think about my time at Saint Michael's. I wasn’t converted to the faith and the power of Christ failed to compel me. I still plan on finding my answers from somewhere other than a Torah, Bible, Qur’an or other reading, but I ponder what I heard, what I experienced and what I retained from the service. At this point in my life, I still do not practice a religion. But maybe someday I’ll become a churchgoing girl.
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I’m from Vermont, semi-unfortunately.</p>