My Church

I have come along way with religion. I have finally been able to class a certain place of worship, "my church".

My parents raised me to be a Unitarian Universalist. I'm 24, and I STILL don't know what that means. I do know, however, that UU's enjoy discussing things, that they welcome all religions, beliefs and sexual orientations into their congregations. That their hyms often speak of nature and love. That I have met a lot, A LOT of hippies through the various UU congregations I have been a part of.

But I have found a place in Fayetteville, the UU Fellowship...that I am comfortable with calling "my church" - at least most of the time.

I don't know if it's the sermons, the people or the post sermon coffee hour that attract me the most. I don't know if it's the thick greenery that blankets the church that makes me hold it with affection. I do have a suspicious though. I think it might be the walk to church.

From my door, it is exactly 5 minutes to the door of the fellowship. This is a perfect relationship for a girl who intermittent lateness is far from predictable. I get to walk past the brick of the university, onto the grassy hills of Cleveland street. Past bohemian looking student apartments, a few grumbling dogs, some potted plants and down to the fellowship.

It's a little part of a my week that can stay the same. Fellowship, Coffeehour, back up the Cleveland st. hill. It's good to have a routine.