We Have No Spiritual Home
Two weeks ago we held a Cub Scouts den meeting at the local Methodist church. Nothing really noteworthy happened at the meeting. The church band and choir was practicing for the Christmas Eve service, which would be like their Superbowl. I'd guess more people probably come to Easter Sunday, but there's more that goes into Christmas Eve. On the way out we stopped to wave at the church people to let them know we were leaving. I have to admit, the beauty of the church made me linger for a few seconds longer than I'd planned. It reminded me of the simple country church we went to *occasionally* as a kid. The wood and the pine branches...and I'd have a Christmas full of plastic and cardboard.
It made me think that something was missing. I knew something was missing, but I don't think my son does. I felt like I'd be in the wrong if I didn't connect some higher meaning with Christmas for him than just presents, cookies and bullshit cartoons. My wife has suggested taking the family to church. I scoffed at the idea, especially considering she'd want a big "megachurch", which seems like a real empty affair to me. Those couple seconds at the church has made me think about how I have an obligation, I feel, to at least expose my boys to the church. I can't "force them to drink", especially when I'm not, but it would be beneficial to hear some of the stories that have shaped our society for generations. They just need to know something else is out there.