After a year in the dorm, ReadingNoah went to church with the Grands. They sent him home to choose a “more appropriate outfit” than his jeans and flannel shirt, but he made it there eventually. When he came home after church, he and the two youngest had raided the church’s Mother’s Day decor to give me flowers and balloons. Except for the imaginary dress code, my parents have chosen a much more pleasant church than the one they attended when I was a teen.
I’m sure it was a deliberate choice on my part to forget until today that we used to attend a church that would end Sunday morning service with a dozen repeats of one of the “Just as I am” verses. They made us sing that song over and over and over. Then, we had to stand “with heads bowed and eyes closed as the organist plays another verse” while the preacher had a three minute ‘I know what you did last week’ chat with God on our behalf. This was followed by singing the song again. Youth group members would walk to the front of the church and kneel for a minute in the hope that we would get out of church before evening service.
Now that I’ve remembered that, I hope I can forget it for a few decades again.