Today, I am grateful for my church. I was raised mennonite, and church and God was a huge part of daily life. It’s an integral part of who you are, not just what you do on Sunday morning. Fast forward to having two children, an agnostic spouse, and moving 8 times in 10 years, and suddenly church has become more do-it-yourself. The thought of trying to find a church that doesn’t make me feel awkward, that doesn’t offend me, that doesn’t guilt my partner for not going, is too overwhelming. That’s why when I stumbled upon st Luke’s, it was amazing. they accept me, my weird children, my non-believer husband, all of us. Then my brother died, and I fell into the pit of despair. St Luke’s let me come every Sunday, sit by myself, cry my eyes out, and never asks, “you’re still not over it?” or, “Do you need anything?” or “everything happens for a reason.” They let me sit with my grief, for as long as i need.