I'm not a religious person. I grew up with a mother that was forced to go to church

and listen to sermons and Latin with a brother and sister. Her parents would drop her off

the church then drive away, or even go with the responsibility of two younger siblings

enacting like she had a clue what was going on. She laughed sometimes, telling me the stories

of a youth, and how she didn't have any idea what was being said. The first few times

she tried asking, the adults would shush her or glare. So she learned to just be quiet and mimic

what was being done around her. The word amen being uttered, bow the head and repeat it.

Everyone standing up and singing songs, better get up and mouth the words so that nobody

thinks she and her siblings were rude little children that haven't been raised right.

Once she had her own children, none of us went to church. So when my siblings asked,

out of curiosity, why, when the rest of their friends were forced to go.

Being in the deep south, church was what all families did in our town. We were the exception.

I think some of the neighbours found it weird, dressed in the Sunday best while we would be playing

around outside or piling to the car for breakfast. Not going to church again, they'd ask.

My mom would laugh, keys jingling as she got into the car and cheerfully called to them.

Nope, we're going to get pancakes.

So, I've never read the Bible. I had one. My grandfather insisted on it and put my name and birthday

on the spine in shiny gold letters. Maybe I should read one though. It started off small.

We got strangers sometimes, the town wasn't that tiny, a little less than 9,000 people.

So, when I went to the grocery store, it wasn't that weird to see people I didn't recognise.

I didn't think much when I saw the first one. At least, I think it was one.

He wasn't dressed that oddly, but something about him stuck out.

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