midnight mass

Right well....


I went to church.
I went with my family to the midnight mass at our old methodist church in clovis.
It was different.
I thought I didn't like religion.
But I kept feeling this familiarity about the service, the songs, the people.
I've wanted for so long to believe that I wasn't going to succumb to the opiate of religion but alas!
I havn't. It took me sometime to figure out what I believe in. And part of me knows that perhaps I won't ever know who I "truly am".
But I do know this.

I was raised as a Methodist.
Raised to question, to believe in equality.
But I don't call myself a Methodist.
And now that I knowI have the resources to understand it.
To question it.
To really know if I believe in it.

Because when it all comes down to it. It's faith. I don't think I could ever really take the Bible in literal terms, especially after taking literature of the new testament. Over this semester I've realized that I've become a hypocrite just like those evangelical gay prostitute back massage getting pastors from jesus hates fags church.

I've become closed minded to faith.
I've disdained closed minded "religious" yuppies for as long as I can remember.
And here I am. I am one. Just in the opposite sense.

So a spark of curiosity has rekindled my neutrality towards religion and I believe I'm going to investigate.

The mass I went to at United Methodist in clovis was the same as the one I used to go to in my early childhood at Trinity United in Canada.

I remember the children running up to the pastor. I remember hearing the Gospel. I remember the pastor giving a thought provoking, unsettleing, and often times humorous analysis. I remember the hymns. I remember soup and coffee and snacks after service. I remember sunday school. I remember babysitting. I remember the smell of baby powder in the toddler's room. I remember making plastic doves downstairs in the church kitchen. I remember my woman pastor. I remember the candle light vigils that ended every christmas eve midnight mass.

None were ever bad memories when I think of it.
Just going to college, experiencing other churches, growing up in a supressive enviornment that clovis is, just fed my hatred for the christian right wing.

but...

change is always welcomed

Nostalgia

Eventually we all move on.
I think in the end all we want to do is create our own little stamp in the world, and have at least one witness testify and awknowledge our existence. It a beautiful little thing this thing we call life, how our body functions, our relationships with the people and things around us. I never understood what made something alive. What is that quality. For so long I've doubted the existence of a Divine but at times like these when the sun is at the perfect hieght and air is warm and you're surrounded by familiar things and memories, it's hard to think that life is possible just because it is. Christmas time is nearing, and again it's my favorite time of the year. I want so much to be with someone, but I have no idea who that is. Gift giving, I wish was all year round. I try to make it like that. With the little things of course or else I'd be broke. But I think we forget all to easily the importance of those who enrich our lives everyday, and we forget to thank them.