Church of the Aquarium

I’ve joked to several people that we go to the heathen church known as the “Church of the Aquarium.” Several Sunday mornings since we got our membership to the aquarium, you and I boys, have been there right at opening and enjoyed the semi-private atmosphere (we live in the Bible belt, it’s Sunday morning, do the math). First, I absolutely love aquariums; the ethereal music against the towering tank with jellies and turtles and sharks and coral. I’ve always felt peaceful near water and the sea creatures at the aquarium are endlessly fascinating to me. Luckily, you are my children and a) I get to make the choices and b) you follow in my footsteps in your love of all things water and animal.

And, we don’t actually go to a church. Religion is a funny thing– and organized religion is something that is hard for me. I often feel like we should go to church, but should is not reason enough. I believe in God. I believe in Jesus. I pray all the time and more and more as an adult; the more I know, the more I utterly know how much I do NOT KNOW. I prayed my way through both of your pregnancies; I pray when someone I know is sick; I pray when someone I don’t know is sick. I pray when I am far away from you two and I pray when you fall asleep at night. Just because we don’t go to a church, doesn’t mean we can’t do church.

Back to the aquarium. This morning, sitting on those cool concrete steps, in the morning Charleston sun watching the dolphins play in the harbor and you two playing and running and laughing with the sun glinting off your baby faces– church

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