“Dragged to church.”  Have you ever heard that phrase? My Pastor actually uses a form of it in a sermon. He says he had a drug problem as a child — his parents drug him to church!

I was never dragged to church. In fact, I did not grow up going to church. I never knew I was missing anything until about my 9th grade year. A friend of mine lived a life that had God’s light shining through it. At the time, I had no idea what she had that I didn’t, but I knew I wanted it. I didn’t ask this friend, so I didn’t learn at that time, and even now I have not found a way to share with her that she is part of the main reason I have a relationship with God now.  Years later, when our oldest was in junior high school, I got nervous. I was a young parent, and none of my friends had kids as old as our son. The world, including the imminent threat of high school, was a scary place. I knew I needed more than my husband or I could muster in our parenting abilities to get our son through high school. It was at this point that I reached out to find a church. I got more than I bargained for; I found a church, an extended family, and a lot of support for my parenting needs.