the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2
It’s been a long, dry season of faith. Stan and I tried a new church today.
Stan and I come from a mixed path of church-going experiences. His history is a few ‘drink the koolaid’ type of non-denominational houses of worship. Funny thing is he doesn’t drink the koolaid. His perspective is less jaded than mine. I, on the other hand, and sad to say, am a professional church goer. And this is not such a good thing.
I started out in one denomination through high school, attending with my parents. From college on, I had to branch out and visit may churches. In my first marriage, I was a Navy wife, forced to relocated in different parts of the country several times. I’ve gone to military churches. I experienced a 12 person church which merged with another congregation. I’ve belonged to a church with several thousand in attendance. I was a part of a church start-up and went to understand how other churches worked. That was probably my biggest mistake. Because now, I look at each set up of a new church with a different set of observing outside-looking-in eyes.
The website looked good. The people looked friendly when we arrived, but not many approached, even when Stan got a donut and we stood in the middle of the social area. My spidey senses were up . Then we entered the the hooka sanctuary. Seriously I am cool with candles, but the incense was…intense. A woman with an incense stick held between her fingers like a cigarette was walking around spreading the love. Was that burning baby powder, scorched vanilla, fried lavender? All I smelled was perfumed smoke and my nose membranes protested. Not even the zillion candles could burn that away in an hour and a half.
Now some will say that Catholic churches use incense. Yes, I’ve sampled that variety. It does’t bother me. It doesn’t linger like bad bathroom spray. It isn’t the fake scents wafting in the air, but Frankincense.
All in all, not a good fit, not just for the smelly stuff, but their website didn’t really match the reality. The rug didn’t match the drapes so to speak. We drove home and washed our clothes.
Yet, we are a tenacious pair. We’ll keep looking and searching for a church who is not a marketing conglomerate. Who doesn’t have people butting in line during communion. A place were people are more genuine and less into smoking sticks.
There’s always that hope, right?